Published in 1922, Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse is an Indian novel about the spiritual journey of self-discovery of a man named Siddhartha who lived during the time of Gautama Buddha. This is a book that stings in all the wrong (right?) places because Siddhartha asks the right questions. His journey takes him to the Buddha, and here, one would think that the Buddha would help Siddhartha find his enlightenment. But that is not the case, and it makes perfect sense. Meeting Buddha is just a stop in Siddhartha’s journey. And from his journey, we the readers will learn how important it is to examine one’s own life.
Socrates said this one thing the most number of times throughout his life, and he stood by it until his last breath. He said that the unexamined life is not worth living. And in this book, we learn how to examine one’s own life. We must be thankful to Hermann Hesse for he wrote this classic book in 1922, and the book is as relevant today (if not more) as it was back then.
We are going through a war on identity. It is a war we are all involved in, and a war few of us know the gravity of (I cannot claim to know it either). Everything is being centralized, and in an age of distributed learning, our generation is struggling to find an identity in life. We do not know who we are. Heck, we are even unsure of our gender! So, this book comes as a relief. Like the hot soup your mother made back when you were a kid and you were sick, and it was raining outside. But the soup, how it helped you, so shall this book!
At this point, I will ask you (urge you) to read the actual book. You can find it here. But, reading a long-form text is hard for some, and understandably so. And I am here to aid you. I have extracted carefully picked excerpts from the book. My hope is that these excerpts stand as poles, through which you can lay down your network of interpretations to join all connections (like the city’s electricity network), thereby understanding the message of the book.
This book is a must read for youngsters who, like me, are seeking their own path. It is a fun filled book full of insights, struggles and breakthroughs.
Let’s get started.
Siddhartha is first introduced to us like this, and how his father viewed him:
In the shade of the house, in the sunshine of the riverbank near the boats, in the shade of the Sal-wood forest, in the shade of the fig tree is where Siddhartha grew up, the handsome son of the Brahman, the young falcon, together with his friend Govinda…joy leapt in his father’s heart for his son who was quick to learn, thirsty for knowledge, he saw him growing up to become great wise man and priest, a prince among the Brahmans.
He was the talk of the town, and eveyone loved him:
Love touched the hearts of the Brahmans’ young daughters when Siddhartha walked through the lanes of the town with luminous foreahead, with the eye of a king, with his slim hips…but more than all the others he was loved by Govinda, his friend, the son of a Brahman…Siddhartha was thus loved by everyone. He was a source of joy for everybody, he was a delight for them all.
Here comes the ‘but’:
But he, Siddhartha, was not a source of joy for himself, he found no delight in himself. Walking the rosy paths of the fig tree garden, sitting in the bluish shade of the grove of contemplation, washing his limbs daily in the bath of repentance, sacrificing in the dim shade of the mango forest, his gestures of perfect decency, everyone’s love and joy, he still lacked all joy in his heart. Dreams and restless thoughts came into his mind, flowing from the water of the river, sparkling from the stars of the night, melting from the beams of the sun, dreams came to him and a restlessness of the soul, fuming from the sacrifices, breathing forth from the verses of the Rig-Veda, being infused into him, drop by drop, from the teachings of the old Brahmans.
This discontent gets to a degree that pushes Siddhartha to leave his home in pursuit of the truth. At this point his goal is this:
A goal stood before Siddhartha, a single goal: to become empty, empty of thirst, empty of wishing, empty of dreams, empty of joy and sorrow. Dead to himself, not to be a self any more, to find tranquility with an emptied heard, to be open to miracles in unselfish thoughts, that was his goal.
He first chooses the path of the Samanas, where he practices self-denial:
Siddhartha learned a lot when he was with the Samanas, many ways leading away from the self he learned to go. He went the way of self-denial by means of pain, through voluntarily suffering and overcoming pain, hunger, thirst, tiredness. He went the way of self-denial by means of meditation, through imagining the mind to be void of all conceptions. These and other ways he learned to go, a thousand times he left his self, for hours and days he remained in the non-self. But though the ways led away from the self, their end nevertheless always led back to the self. Though Siddhartha fled from the self a thousand times, stayed in nothingness, stayed in the animal, in the stone, the return was inevitable, inescapable was the hour, when he found himself back in the sunshine or in the moonlight, in the shade or in the rain, and was once again his self and Siddhartha, and again felt the agony of the cycle which had been forced upon him.
But even this could not break him free of the cycle of life, and he found himself back at the place he began: himself. He realizes this and decides that with the Samans he will not find nirvana:
…Oh Govinda, I believe out of all the Samanas out there, perhaps not a single one, not a single one, will reach the nirvana. We find comfort, we find numbness, we learn feats, to deceive others. But the most important thing, the path of paths, we will not find.
He adds and summarizes his learnings until this point in such a clear way:
Soon, Govinda, your friend will leave the path of the Samanas, he has walked along your side for so long. I’m suffering of thirst, oh Govinda, and on this long path of a Samana, my thirst has remained as strong as ever. I always thirsted for knowledge, I have always been full of questions. I have asked the Brahmans, year after year, and I have asked the holy Vedas, year after year, and I have asked the devote Samanas, year after year. Perhaps, oh Govinda, it had been just as well, had been just as smart and just as profitable, if I had asked the hornbill-bird or the chimpanzee. It took me a long time and am not finished learning this yet, oh Govinda: that there is nothing to be learned! There is indeed no such thing, so I believe, as what we refer to as `learning’. There is, oh my friend, just one knowledge, this is everywhere, this is Atman, this is within me and within you and within every creature. And so I’m starting to believe that this knowledge has no worser enemy than the desire to know it, than learning.
During this time, Siddhartha hears about Gotama, or known as Buddha, and hears about his enlightenment:
A man had appeared, Gotama by name, the exalted one, the Buddha, he had overcome the suffering of the world in himself and had halted the cycle of rebirths. He was said to wander through the land, teaching, surrounded by disciples, without possession, without home, without a wife, in the yellow cloak of an ascetic, but with a cheerful brow, a man of bliss, and Brahmans and princes would bow down before him and would become his students.
He leaves the Samanas and goes in search of the Gotama. When Siddhartha first meets the Buddha, he has this observation to make about the one they call The Buddha,
“With a hidden smile, quiet, calm somewhat resembling a healthy child, the Buddha walked, wore the robe and placed his feet just as all of his monks did, according to a precise rule. But his face and his walk , his quietly dangling hand expressed peace, expressed perfection, did not search, did not imitate, breathed softly in an unhwithering calm, in an unwhithering light an untouchable peace. “
When Siddhartha meets Buddha, an insightful conversation ensues. And Siddhartha surprises himself, as well as others by deciding that even the Buddha cannot possibly lead him to the ultimate truth. This decision comes about or is shown effectively through the dialogues exchanged between the two venerable beings. Siddhartha says to the Buddha,
“One thing, oh most venerable one, I have admired in your teachings most of all. Everything is your teachings is perfectly clear, is proven; you are presenting the world as a perfect chain, a chain which is never and nowhere broken, an eternal chain the links of which are causes and effects. Never before, this has been so clearly; never before, this has been presented so irrefutably; truly, the heart of every Brahman has to beat stronger with love, once he has seen the world through your teachings perfectly connected, without gaps, clear as a crystal, not depending on chance, not depending on gods. Whether it may be good or bad, whether living according to it would be suffering or joy, I do not wish to discuss, possibly this is not essential-but the uniformity of the world, that everything which happens is connected, that the great and the small things are all encompassed by the same forces of time, by the same law of causes, of coming into being and of dying, this is what shines brightly out of your exalted teachings, oh perfected one. But according to your very own teachings, this unity and necessary sequence of all things is nevertheless broken in one place, through a small gap, this world of unity is invaded by something alien, something new, something which had not been there before, and which cannot be demonstrated and cannot be proven: these are your teachings of overcoming the world, of salvation. But with this small gap, with this small breach, the entire eternal and uniform law of the world is breaking apart again and becomes void. Please forgive me for expressing this objection. “
To this, the Buddha replies,
“You’ve heard the teachings, oh son of a Brahman, and good for you that you’ve thought about it thus deeply. You’ve found a gap in it, an error. You should think about this further. But be warned, oh seeker of knowledge, of the thicket of opinions and of arguing about words. There is nothing to opinions, they may be beautiful or ugly, smart or foolish, everyone can support them or discard them. But the teachings, you’ve heard from me, are no opinions, and their goal is not to explain the world to those who seek knowledge. They have a different goal; their goal is salvation from suffering. This is what Gotama teaches, nothing else.”
And at this, Siddhartha explains his reasons for leaving Buddha’s camp and seeking the truth on his own.
“I wish that you, oh exalted one, would not be angry with me. I have not spoken to you like this to argue with you, to argue about words. You are truly right, there is little to opinions. But let me say this one more things: I have not doubted in you for a single moment. I have not doubted for a single moment that you are Buddha, that you have reached the goal, the highest goal towards which so many thousands of Brahmans and sons of Brahmans are on their way. You have found salvation from death. It has come to you I the course of your own search, on your own path, through realizations, through enlightenment. It has not come to you by means of teachings! And-thus is my thought, oh exalted one,-nobody will obtain salvation by means of teachings! You will not be able to convey and say to anybody, oh venerable one, in words and through teachings what has happened to you in the hour of enlightenment! The teachings of the enlightened Buddha contain much, it teaches many to live righteously, to avoid evil. But there is one thing which these so clear, these so venerable teachings do not contain: they do not contain the mystery of what the exalted one has experienced for himself, he alone among hundreds of thousands. This is what I have thought and realized, when I have heard the teachings. This is why I am continuing my travels-not to seek other, better teachings, for I know there are none, but to depart from all teachings and all teachers and to reach my goal by myself or to die. But often, I’ll think of this day, oh exalted one, and of this hour, when my eyes beheld a holy man.”
And in saying thus, Siddhartha departs Buddha’s camp to reach his goal, or, like he said, to die.
And Siddhartha realizes this when he walks alone,
“He realized that he was no youth any more, but had turned into a man. He realized that one thing had left him, as a snake is left by its old skin, that one thing no longer existed in him, which had accompanied him throughout his youth and used to be a part of him: the wish to have teachers and to listen to teachings. He had also left the last teacher who had appeared on his path, even him the highest and wisest teacher, the most holy one, Buddha, he had left him, had to part with him, was not able to accept his teachings. “
And soon enough, he realizes this,
“…another thought sprang forth ‘That I know nothing about myself, that Siddhartha has remained thus alien and unknown to me, stems from one cause, a single cause: I was afraid of myself, I was fleeing from myself! I searched Atman, I searched Brahman, I was willing to dissect myself and peel off all of its layers, to find the code of all peels in its unknown interior, that Atman, life the divine part, the ultimate part. But I have lost myself in the process.'”
And then he decided this,
“…taking a deep breath, ‘now I would not let Siddhartha escape from me again! No longer, I want to begin my thoughts and my life with Atman and with the suffering of the world. I do not want to kill and dissect myself any longer, to find a secret behind the ruins. Neither Yoga-Veda shall teach me any more, nor Atharva-Veda, nor the ascetics, nor any kind of teachings. I want to learn from myself, want to be my student, want to get to know myself, the secret of Siddhartha.”
After this realization, he opens his eyes and beholds the world as if for the first time. This is how he feels,
“He looked around, as if he was seeing the world for the first time. Beautiful was the world, colorful was the world, strange and mysterious was the world! Here was blue, here was yellow, here was green, the sky and the river flowed, the forest and the mountains were rigid, all of it was beautiful, all of it was mysterious and magical, and in its midst was he, Siddhartha, the awakening one, on the path to himself. All of this, all this yellow and blue, river and forest, entered Siddhartha for the first time throughout the eyes, was no longer a spell of Mara, was no longer the veil of Maya, was no longer a pointless and coincidental diversity of mere appearances, despicable to the deeply thinking Brahman, who scorns diversity, who seeks unity. Blue was blue, river was river, and if also in the blue and the river, in Siddhartha, the singular and divine lived hidden, so it was still that very dignity’s way and purpose, to be here yellow, here blue, there sky, there forest, and here Siddhartha. The purpose and the essential properties were not somewhere behind the things, they were in them, in everything.“
“Out of this moment, when the world melted away all around him, when he stood alone like a star in the sky, out of this moment of a cold and despair, Siddhartha emerged, more a self than before, more firmly concentrated. He felt: This had been the last tremor of the awakening, the last struggle of this birth. And it was not long until he walked again in long strides, started to proceed swiftly and impatiently, heading no longer for home, no longer to his father, no longer back.”
“But never, he had really found this self, because he had wanted to capture it in the net of thought. With the body definitely not being the self, and not the spectacle of the senses, so it also was also not the thought, not the rational mind, not the learned wisdom, not the learned ability to draw conclusions and to develop previous thoughts in to new ones. No, this world of thought was also still on this side, and nothing could be achieved by killing the random self of the senses, if the random self of thoughts and learned knowledge was attended on the other hand. Both, the thoughts as well as the senses were pretty things, the ultimate meaning was hidden behind both of them, both had to be listened to, both had to be played with, both neither had to be scorned not overestimated, from both the secret voices of the innermost truth had to be attentively perceived. He wanted to strive for nothing, except for what the voice commanded him to strive form, dwell on nothing, except where the voice would advise him to do so…To obey like this, not to an external command, only to the voice, to be ready like this, this was good, this was necessary, nothing else was necessary.”
Siddhartha makes an observation when he receives help from a ferryman when he helps him cross a river and then refuses to accept his sincere thank you; the ferryman in fact feels the need to thank Siddhartha instead. Siddhartha thinks,
“…’All are thankful, though they are the ones who have a right to receive thanks. All are submissive, all would like to be friends, like to obey, think little. Like children are all people.'”
When an important character by name Kamala in the book, asks Siddhartha something which amounts to, ‘What would you have done if you had failed [in wooing me]?’ to which Siddhartha replies,
“‘Look, Kamala: When you throw a rock into the water, it will speed on the fastest course to the bottom of the water. This is how it is when Siddhartha has a goal, a resolution. Siddhartha does nothing, he waits, he thinks, he fasts, but he passes through the things of the world like a rock through water, without doing anything, without stirring; he is drawn, he lets himself fall. His goal attracts him, because he doesn’t let anything enter his soul which might oppose the goal. This is what Siddhartha has learned among the Samanas. This is what fools call magic and of which they think it would be effected by means of the daemons. Nothing is effected by the daemons, there are no daemons. Everyone can perform magic, everyone can reach his goals, if he is able to think, if he is able to wait, if he is able to fast.”
And in another conversation, Kamala says that someone [some other character] isn’t smart because he is not able to seek refuge in himself and thus find peace. To this, Siddhartha disagrees with the supposition that the reason for that is his being ‘not smart’. He offers an alternative explanation,
“No, that’s not the reason why. [He] is just as smart as I, and still has no refuge in himself. Others have it, who are small children with respect to their mind. Most people, Kamala, are like a falling leaf, which is blown and is turning around through the air, and wavers, and tumbles to the ground. But others, a few, are like stars, they go on a fixed course, no wind reaches them, in themselves they have their law and their course. Among all the learned men and Samanas, of which I knew many, there was one of this kind, a perfected one, I” never be able to forget him. It is that Gotama [The Buddha], the exalted one, who is spreading that teachings. Thousands of followers are listening to his teachings every day, follow his instructions every hour, but they are falling leaves, not in themselves they have teachings and a law.”
There comes a time when Siddhartha is so used to the ‘normal’ society that he feels this,
“That high, bright state of being awake, which he had experiences that one time at the height of his youth, in those days after Gotama’s sermon, after the separation from Govinda, that tense expectations, that proud state of standing alone without teachings and without teachers, that supple willingness to listen to the divine voice in his own heart, had slowly become a memory, had been fleeting; distant and quiet, the holy source murmured, which used to be near, which used to murmur within himself.”
“He had been captured by the world, by lust, covetousness, sloth, and finally also by that vice which he had used to despise and mock the most as the most foolish one of all vices:greed.”
He had fallen into the habit of gambling. And this is explained in clear terms in the book as,
“He was a feared gambler, few dared to take him on, so high and audacious were his stakes. HE played the game due to a pain of his heart, losing and wasting his wretched money in the game brought him an angry joy, in no other way he could demonstrate his disdain for wealth, the merchant’s false god, more clear and more mockingly. Thus he gambled with high stakes and mercilessly, hating himself, mocking himself, won thousands, threw away thousands, lost money, lost jewelry, lost a house in the country, won again, lost again. That fear, that terrible and petrifying fear, which he felt while he was rolling the dice, while he was worried about losing high stakes, that fear he loved and sought to always renew it, always increase it, always get it to a slightly higher level, for in this feeling alone he still felt something like happiness, something like an elevated form of life in the midst of his saturated, lukewarm, dull life.”
Through a dream about Kamala, where Kamala does this,
“..she had aroused him, and tied him to her in the act of making love with painful fervor, biting and in tears, as if, once more, she wanted to squeeze the last sweet drop out of his vain, fleeting pleasure.”
He realizes,
“Never before, it had become so strangely clear to Siddhartha, how closely lust was akin to death.”
And then he leaves her.
“Siddhartha walked through the forest, was already far from the city, and knew nothing but that one thing, that there was no going back for him, that his life, as he had lived it for many years until now, was over and done away with, and that he had tasted all of it, sucked everything out of it until he was disgusted with it. Dead was the singing bird, he had dreamt of. Dead was the bird in his heart. Deeply, he had been entangled in Sansara, he had sucked up disgust and death from all sides into his body, like a sponge sucks up water until it is full. and full he was, full of the feeling of been sick of it, full of misery, full of death, there was nothing left in this world which could have attracted him, given him joy, given him comfort.”
In that feeling of absolute hopelessness, he plan to end it all by hangin himself,
“Yes, he had reached the end. There was nothing left for him, except to annihilate himself, except to smash the failure into which he had shaped his life, to throw it away, before the feet off mockingly laughing gods. This was the great vomiting he had longed for: death, the smashing to bits of the form he hated! Let him be food for fishes, this dog Siddhartha, this lunatic, this depraved and rotten body, this weakened and abused soul! Let him be food for fishes and crocodiles, let him be chopped to bits by daemons!
With a distorted face, he stared into the water, saw the reflection of his face and spit at it.”
And when all else seems lost, when he is about to kill himself,
“Then, out of remote areas of his soul, out of past times of his now weary life, a sound stirred up. It was a word, a syllable, which he, without thinking, with a slurred voice, spoke to himself, the old word which is the beginning and the end of all prayers of the Brahmans, the holy ‘Om’, which roughly means ‘that what is perfect’ or ‘the completion’. And in the moment when the sound of ‘Om’ touched Siddhartha’s ear, his dormant spirit suddenly woke up and realized the foolishness of his actions.”
Here, I shall stop part 1 of the excerpts. Hope you fpund them worth your while and also hope the excerpts stirred up your own questions deep inside you. They are yours to work on 🙂
While I go work on part-2, go out and smell the wind, feel the sun and smile at a passing bird! Cya and thanks for reading 🙂
