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02 - With The Samanas - Siddhartha - Hermann Hesse · Sacred Texts Archive

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Chapter two with the Samanas. In the evening of this day, they caught
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up with the ascetics the skinny Somanas, and offered them their companionship and obedience.
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They were accepted. Sadartha gave his garments to a poor Brahman in the
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street. He wore nothing more than the loin cloth and the earth colored unsown
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cloak. He ate only once a day, and never something cooked. He
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fasted for fifteen days. He fasted for twenty eight days. The flesh waned
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from his thighs and cheeks, Feverish dreams flickered from his enlarged eyes. Long
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nails grew slowly on his parched fingers, and a dry, shaggy beard grew
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on his chin. His glance turned to ice when he encountered women. His
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mouth twitched with contempt. When he walked through a city of nicely dressed people.
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He saw merchants, trading, princes hunting, mourners wailing for their dead,
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haars offering themselves, physicians trying to heal the sick, Priests determining the
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most suitable day for seeding, Lovers, loving mothers nursing their children. And
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all of this was not worthy of one look from his eye. It all
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lied, It all stank, It all stank of lies. It all pretended
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to be meaningful and joyful and beautiful, and it all was just concealed putrefaction.
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The world tasted bitter, life was torture. A goal stood before,
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said Arthur, a single goal. To become empty, empty of thirst,
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empty of wishing, empty of dreams, empty of joy and sorrow, dead
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to himself, not to be a self any more, to find tranquility with
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an emptied heart, to be open to miracles in unselfish thoughts. That was
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his goal. Once all of myself was overcome and had died, once every
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desire and every urge was silent in the heart, then the ultimate part of
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me had to awake, the innermost of my being, which is no longer
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myself, the great secret. Silently Saddarthur exposed himself to burning rays of the
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sun directly above, glowing with pain, glowing with thirst, and stood there
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until he neither felt any pain nor thirst any more. Silently he stood there
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in the rainy season from his hair, the water was dripping over freezing shoulders,
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over freezing lips and legs, and the penitent stood there until he could
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not feel the cold in his shoulders and legs anymore, until they were silent,
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until they were quiet silently, he cowered in the thorny bushes. Blood
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dripped from the burning skin, from festering wounds dripped pass and Siddartha stayed rigidly,
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stayed motionless, until no blood flowed any more, and nothing stung anymore,
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Until nothing burned anymore, Saddartha sat upright and learned to breathe sparingly,
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learned to get along with only few breaths, learned to stop. He learned,
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beginning with the breath, to calm the beat of his heart, learned
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to reduce the beats of his heart until they were only a few and almost
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none. Instructed by the oldest of the Samanas, Siddartha practiced self denial,
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practiced meditation according to new Samana rules. A heron flew over the bamboo forest,
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and Siddartha accepted the heron into his soul. Flew over forest and mountains,
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was a heron. Eight fish felt the pangs of a heron's hunger,
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spoke the heron's croak died a heron's death. A dead jackal was lying on
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the sandy bank, and Siddartha's soul slipped inside the body was the dead jackal
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lay on the banks, got bloated, stank, decayed, and was dismembered
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by hyaenas, was skinned by vultures, turned into a skeleton, turned to
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dust, was blown across the fields, and Siddartha's soul returned, had died,
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had decayed, was scattered as dust had tasted. The gloomy intoxication of
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the cycle awaited in new thirst, like a hunter in the gap where he
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could escape from the cycle, where the end of the causes, where an
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eternity without suffering began. He killed his senses, he killed his memory,
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He slipped out of his self into thousands of other forms. Was an animal,
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was carrion, was stone, was wood, was water, And awoke
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every time to find his old self again sun shone or moon was his own
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self again turned round in the cycle. Felt thirst overcame the thirst, felt
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new thirst. Sdn Arthur learned a lot when he was with the Somana's many
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ways leading away from the self. He learned to go. He went the
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way of self denial by means of pain, through voluntary suffering and overcoming pain
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hunger, thirst, tiredness. He went the way of self denial by means
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of meditation, through imagining the mind to be void of all conceptions. These
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and other ways he learned to go A thousand times. He left his self
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for hours and days, he remained in the non self. But though the
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ways led away from the self, their end nevertheless always led back to the
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self. Though Siddartha fled from the self a thousand times, stayed in nothingness,
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stayed in the animal, in the stone, the return was inevitable,
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inescapable was the hour when he found himself back in the sunshine, or in
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the moonlight, in the shade, or in the rain, and was once
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again his self. And Siddarthur and again felt the agony of the cycle which
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had been forced upon him. By his side lived Govinda, his shadow,
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walked the same paths undertook the same efforts. They rarely spoke to one another
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than the service of the exercises required. Occasionally, the two of them went
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through the villages to beg for food for themselves and their teachers. How do
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you think Govinda, sid Arthur spoke one day while begging this way, how
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do you think we progress? Do we reach any goals. Govinda answered,
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we have learned and will continue learning. You'll be a great Somana, said
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Arthur quickly. You've learned every exercise. Often the old Samanas have admired you.
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One day you'll be a holy man, oh, said Arthur. Quoth
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said Arthur, I can't help but feel that it is not like this,
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my friend, what I've learned being among the Somanas up to this day,
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this, oh, Govinda, I could have learned more quickly and by simpler
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means, in every tavern of that part of a town where the whore houses
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are, my friend, among carters and gamblers, I could have learned it,
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quoth Govinda said, Arthur is putting me on. How could you have
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learned meditation, holding your breath, insensitivity against hunger and pain there among these
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wretched people? And Saddartha said quietly, as if he were talking to himself.
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What is meditation? What is leaving one's body? What is fasting?
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What is holding one's breath? It is fleeing from the self. It is
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a short escape of the agony of being a self. It is a short
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numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life, The same
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escape, the same short numbing is what the driver of the ox cart finds
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in the inn, drinking a few bowls of rice wine or fermented coconut milk.
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Then he won't feel his self anymore. Then he won't feel the pains
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of life anymore. Then he finds a short numbing of the senses. When
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he falls asleep over his bowl of rice wine. He'll find the same as
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what Saddartha and Govinda find when they escape their bodies through long exercises, staying
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in the non self. This is how it is a Govinda, quoth Govinda,
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You say so, oh friend, Yet you know that Siddartha is no
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driver of an ox cart, and a Samana is no drunkard. It's true
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that a drinker numbs his senses. It's true that he briefly escapes and rests,
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but he'll return from the delusion finds everything to be unchanged. Has not
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become wiser, has gathered no enlightenment, has not risen. Several steps,
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and Siddarthur spoke with a smile. I do not know. I have never
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been a drunkard, but that I Siddartha find only a short numbing of the
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senses in my exercises and meditation, and that I am just as far removed
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from wisdom from salvation as a child in the mother's womb. This I know,
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oh Govinda, This I know. And once again another time, when
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Siddartha left the forest together with Govinda to beg for some food in the village
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for their brothers and teachers, Siddartha began to speak and said, what now,
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o Govinda. Might we be on the right path, Might we get
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closer to enlightenment? Might we get closer to salvation? Or do we perhaps
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live in a circle? We who have thought we were escaping the cycle?
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Quoth Govinda, We have learned a lot, Siddartha, there is still much
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to learn. We are not going around in circles. We are moving up.
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The circle is a spiral. We have already ascended many a level.
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Siddartha answered, how old would you think is our oldest Somana, our venerable
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teacher? Quoth Govinda. Our oldest one might be about sixty years of age,
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And said Arthur, he has lived for sixty years and has not reached
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the nirvana. He'll turn seventy and eighty, and you and me will grow
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just as old, and will do our exercises, and will fast and will
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meditate. But we will not reach the nirvana. He won't and we won't.
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Oh, Govinda, I believe out of all the Somanas out there,
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perhaps not a single one, not a single one, will reach the nirvana.
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We find comfort, we find numbness, we learn feats to deceive others.
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But the most important thing, the path of paths, we will not
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find. If you only spoke Govinda, wouldn't speak such terrible words, said
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Arthur. How could it be that among so many learned men, among so
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many Brahmans, among so many austere and venerable Samanas, among so many who
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are searching, so many who are eagerly trying, so many holy men,
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no one will find the path of paths. But Siddarthur said, in a
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voice which contained just as much sadness as mockery, with a quiet, a
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slightly sad, a slightly mocking voice. Soon, Govinda, your friend will
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leave the path of the samanas. He has walked along your side for so
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long. I am suffering of thirst of Govinda, And on this long path
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of a Samana, my thirst has remained as strong as ever, I always
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thirsted for knowledge. I have always been full of questions. I have asked
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the Brahmans year after year. I have asked the Holy Vaders year after year.
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I have asked the devoted Somanas year after year. Perhaps so, Govinda,
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it has been just as well, had been just as smart and just
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as profitable if I had asked the hornbill bird or the chimpanzee. It took
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me a long time, and I am not finished learning this yet, oh
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Govinda, that there is nothing to be learned. There is indeed no such
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thing. So I believe, as what we refer to as learning, there
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is, oh, my friend, just one knowledge. This is everywhere,
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This is atman, this is within me, and within you, and within
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every creature. So I'm starting to believe that this knowledge has no worser enemy
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than the desire to know it. Then learning at this, Govinda stopped on
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the path, rose his hands and spoke. If you said, Arthur,
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only would not bother your friend with this kind of talk. Truly, your
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words stir up fear in my heart. And just consider what would become of
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the sanctity of prayer, What of the venerability of the Brahman's caste. What
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of the holiness of the Samanas? If it was as you say, if
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there was no learning, what o sa Darthur would become of all of this?
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What is holy? What is precious? What is venerable? On earth?
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And Govinda mumbled a verse to himself, a verse from an upanashad.
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He who ponderingly of a purified spirit loses him himself in the meditation of Atman.
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Unexpressible by words is his blissfulness of his heart. But Siddharthur remained silent.
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He thought about the words which Govinda had said to him, and thought
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the words through to their ends. Yes, he thought, standing there with
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his head low, what would remain of all that which seemed to us to
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be holy? What remains what can stand the test? And he shook his
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head. At one time, when the two young men had lived among the
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Somanas for about three years and had shared their exercises, some news, a
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rumor, a myth reached them. After being retold many times, a man
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had appeared, Gautama by name, the exalted One, the Buddha. He
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had overcome the suffering of the world in himself and had halted the cycle of
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rebirths. He was said to wander through the land, teaching, surrounded by
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disciples, without possession, without home, without a wife, in the yellow
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cloak of an esthetic, but with a cheerful brow. A man of bliss,
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and Brahmans and princes would bow down before him and would become his students.
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This myth, this rumor, this legend resounded. Its fragrances rose up
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here and there. In the towns the Brahmins spoke of it, and in
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the forest the Samanas. Again and again the name of Gautama, the Buddha
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reached the ears of the young men with good and with bad talk, with
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praise and with defamation. It was as if the plague had broken out in
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a country, and news had been spreading around that in one place or another
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there was a man, a wise man, a knowledgeable one, whose word
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and breath was enough to heal everyone who had been infected with the pestilence.
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And as such, news would go through the land, and everyone would talk
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about it. Many would believe, many would doubt, but many would get
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on their way as soon as possible to seek the wise man, the helper.
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Just like this myth ran through the land, that fragrant myth of Gottama,
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the Buddha, the wise man of the family of Sakya. He possessed,
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so the believers said, the highest enlightenment. He remembered his previous lives.
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He had reached the Nirvana and never returned into the cycle, was never
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again submerged in the murky river of fil physical forms. Many wonderful and unbelievable
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things were reported of him. He had performed miracles, had overcome the devil,
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had spoken to the gods. But his enemies and disbelievers said this Gautama
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was a vain seducer. He would spend his days in luxury, scorned the
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offerings, was without learning, and knew neither exercises nor self castigation. The
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myth of Buddha sounded sweet. The scent of magic flowed from these reports.
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After all, the world was sick, life was hard to bear, and
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behold, here a source seemed to spring forth. Here a messenger seemed to
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call out comforting, mild, full of noble promises. Everywhere where the rumor
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of Buddha was heard everywhere in the lands of India. The young young men
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listened up, felt a longing, felt hope, and among the Brahman sons
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of the towns and villages. Every pilgrim and stranger was welcome when he brought
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news of him, the exalted One, the Sakya Mundi. The myth had
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also reached the Samanas in the forest, and also Siddhartha and also Govinda slowly
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drop by drop, every drop laden with hope, every drop laden with doubt.
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They rarely talked about it because the oldest one of the Samanas did not
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like this myth. He had heard that this alleged Buddha used to be an
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ascetic before and had lived in the forest, but had then turned back to
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luxury and worldly pleasures. And he had no higher opinion of this Gotama Oh
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Siddartha. Govinda spoke one day to his friend. To day, I was
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in the village and a Brahman invited me into his house. And in his
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house there was the son of a Brahman from Magadha, who has seen the
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Buddha with his own eyes and has heard him teach verily. This made my
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chest ache when I breathed, and thought to myself, if only I would
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too, if only we both would too. Sir Dartha and me live to
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see the hour when we will hear the teachings from the mouth of this perfected
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man. Speak friend, wouldn't we want to go there too and listen to
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the teachings from the Buddha's mouth, quoth said Arthur, Always, Oh,
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Govinda, I had thought Govinda would stay with the samanas always. I had
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believed his goal was to live to be sixty and seventy years of age,
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and to keep on practicing those feats and exercises which are becoming to a somana.
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But behold, I had not known Govinda well enough. I knew little
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of his heart. So now you, my faithful friend, want to take
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a new path and go there where the Buddha spreads his teachings, quoth Govinda,
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you're mocking me. Mock me if you like Siddartha. And have you
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not also developed a desire an eagerness to hear these teachings. Have you not
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at one time said to me you would not walk the path of the somanas
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for much longer. At this, Saddartha laughed in his very own manner,
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in which his voice assumed a touch of sadness and a touch of mockery,
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and said, well, Govinda, you've spoken well, you've remembered correctly,
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if you only remembered the other thing as well, you've heard from me,
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which is that I have grown distrustful and tired against teachings and learnings, and
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that my faith in words which are brought to us by teachers is small.
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But let's do it, my dear. I am willing to listen to these
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teachings, though in my heart I believe we've already tasted the best fruit of
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these teachings, quoth Govinda. Your willingness delights my heart. But tell me
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how should this be possible? How should the Gautama's teachings, even before we
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have heard them, have already revealed their best fruit to us, quoth said
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Arthur. Let us eat this fruit and wait for the rest of Govinda.
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But this fruit, which we already now received thanks to the Gautama, consisted
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in him calling us away from the Samanas. Whether he has also other and
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better things to give us, O friend, let us await with calm hearts.
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On this very same day, Siddartha informed the oldest one of the Samanas
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of his decision that he wanted to leave him. He informed the oldest one
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with all the courtesy and modesty becoming to a younger one and a student.
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But the Samana became angry because the two young men wanted to leave him and
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talked loudly and used crude swear words. Govinda was startled and became embarrassed.
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But Siddartha put his mouth close to Govinda's ear and whispered to him, Now,
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I want to show the old man that I've learned something from him.
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Positioning himself closely in front of the Samana with a concentrated soul, he captured
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the old man's glance with his glances, deprived him of his power, made
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him mute, took away his free will, subdued him under his own will,
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commanded him to do silently whatever he demanded him to do. The old
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man became mute, his eyes became motionless, his will was paralyzed, his
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arms were hanging down without power. He had fallen victim to Sadarthur's spell.
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But Siddartha's thoughts brought the Samana under their control. He had to carry out
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what they commanded, and thus the old man made several bows, performed gestures
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of blessing, spoke stammeringly a godly wish for a good journey, and the
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young men returned the bows with thanks returned the wish went on their way with
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salutations. On the way. Govinda said, oh, Arthur, you have
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learned more from the Somanas than I knew. It is hard. It is
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very hard to cast a spell on an old Somana. Truly, if you
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had stayed there, you would soon have learned to walk on water. I
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do not seek to walk on water, said Sir d Arthur. Let old
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Somanas be content with such feats. End of Chapter two