There was happiness in his father's heart because of his son who was intelligent and thirsty for knowledge; he saw him growing up to be a great learned man, a priest, a prince among Brahmins. Govinda, his friend, the Brahmin's son loved him more than anyone else (4). Siddhartha had begun to feel the seeds of discontent within him (5). In the evening, after the hour of contemplation, Siddhartha said to Govinda: "Tomorrow morning, my friend, Siddhartha is going to join the Samanas" (9). Siddhartha said: "With your permission, Father, I have come to tell you that I wish to leave your houses tomorrow and join the ascetics" (10). "You will go into the forest," he said, "and become a Samana" (12).
Siddhartha had one single goal - to become empty, to become empty of thirst, desire, dreams, pleasure and sorrow - to let the Self die (14). Siddhartha learned a great deal from the Samanas; he learned many ways of losing the Self (15). At his side lived Govinda, his shadow; he traveled along the same path, made the same endeavors (16). The name of Gotama, the Buddha, continually reached the ears of the young men, spoken of well and ill, in praise and in scorn (20). On the same day, Siddhartha informed the eldest Samana of his decision to leave him (23).
"Good lady, we should very much like to know where the Buddha, the Illustrious One, dwells, for we are two Samanas from the forest and have come to see the Perfect One and hear his teachings from his own lips" (25-26). Siddhartha saw him and recognized him immediately, as if pointed out to him by a god (27). "Today we will hear the teachings from his own lips," said Govinda (28). Govinda, my friend, you have taken the step, you have chosen your path." In that moment, Govinda realized that his friend was leaving him and he began to weep (30).
Slowly the thinker went on his way and asked himself: What is it that you wanted to learn from teaching and teachers, and although they taught you much, what was it they could not teach you? (38). He looked around him as if seeing the world for the first time; the world was beautiful, strange, and mysterious (39). But as these thoughts passed through Siddhartha's mind, he suddenly stood still, as if a snake lay in his path. Then suddenly this also was clear to him: he, who was in fact like one who had awakened or was newly born, must begin his life completely afresh (40).
Before evening of that day [Siddhartha] reached a large town and he was glad, because he had a desire to be with people. In the middle, in an ornamented sedan chair carried by four people, sat a woman, the mistress, on red cushions beneath a colored awning (51). He inquired from the first people that he met about the grove and the woman's name, and learned that it was the grove of Kamala, the courtesan, and that besides the grove she owned a house in the town (52). He must have clothes, fine clothes, and shoes, fine shoes, and plenty of money in his purse and presents for Kamala (54).
Siddhartha went to see Kamaswami, the merchant, and was shown into a rich house (63). "We shall have plenty to discuss, but today I invite you to be my guest and to live in my house" (65). He was not long in Kamaswami's house when he was already taking part in his master's business (66). If he made a profit, he accepted it calmly; if he suffered a loss, he laughed and said, "Oh well, this transaction has gone badly" (67).
He had become rich (75). However, with the exception of Kamala, he had no close friends (76). His heart was so full of misery, he felt he could no longer endure it (81). He sat all that day under the mango tree, thinking of his father, thinking of Govinda, thinking of Gotama (84). The same night Siddhartha left his garden and the town and never returned (85).
Siddhartha reached the long river in the wood, the same river across which a ferryman had once taken him when he was still a young man and had come from Gotama's town (88). He saw his face reflected, and spat at it; he took his arm away from the tree trunk and turned a little, so that he could fall headlong and finally go under. At that moment, when the sound of Om reached Siddhartha's ears, his slumbering soul suddenly awakened and he recognized the folly of his action (89). That was why he had to undergo those horrible years, suffer nausea, learn the lesson of the madness of an empty, futile life till the end, till he reached bitter despair, so that Siddhartha the pleasure-monger and Siddhartha the man of property could die (100).
When he reached the ferry, the boat was already there and the ferryman who had once taken the young Samana across, stood in the boat (102). "You once previously took me across this river without payment, so please do it today also and take my clothes instead" (103). "Come and live with me; there is room and food for both of us." The rich and distinguished Siddhartha will become a rower; Siddhartha the learn Brahmin will become a ferryman" (105). One day, when very many people were making a pilgrimage to the dying Buddha, Kamala, once the most beautiful of courtesans, was also on her way (110). Then [Siddhartha] saw Kamala, whom he recognized immediately, although she lay unconscious in the ferryman's arms (111). Silently she looked at him and he saw the life fade from her eyes (113).
For many months Siddhartha waited patiently in the hope that his son would come to understand him, that he would accept his love and that he would perhaps return it. Your son, my dear friend, is troubling you, and also me (118). The following morning he had disappeared (124). Siddhartha had been in the forest a long time when the thought occurred to him that his search was useless (125).
One day, when the wound was smarting terribly, Siddhartha rowed across the river, consumed by longing, and got out of the boat with the purpose of going to town to seek his son. The river was laughing clearly and merrily at the old ferryman. He remembered how once, as a youth, he had compelled his father to let him go and join the ascetics, how he had taken leave of him, how he had gone and never returned (131). "You have heard it laugh," [Vasudeva] said, "but you have not heard everything. Let us listen; you will hear more" (134). When Siddhartha listened attentively to this river, to this song of a thousand voices; when he did not listen to the sorrow or laughter, when he did not bind his soul to any particular voice and absorb it in his soul to any one particular voice and absorb it in his Self, but heard them all, the whole, the unity; then the great song of a thousand voices consisted of one word: Om-perfection (136).
When Govinda moved on, he chose the path to the ferry, eager to see this ferryman, for although he had lived his life according to the rule and was also regarded with respect by the younger monks for his age and modesty, there was still restlessness in his heart and his seeking was unsatisfied" (139). [Govinda said to Siddhartha,] "are you not also a seeker of the right path?" "When someone is seeking," said Siddhartha," it happens quite easily that he only sees the thing that he is seeking; that he is unable to find anything, unable to absorb anything, because he is only thinking of the thing he is seeking, because he has a goal, because he is obsessed with his goal" (140). "Kiss me on the forehead, Govinda" (149). And all these forms and faces rested, flowed, reproduced, swam past and merged into each other, and over them all there was continually something thin, unreal and yet existing, stretched across like thin glass or ice, like a transparent sin, shell, form or mask or water - and this mask was Siddhartha's smiling face which Govinda touched with his lips at that moment (151).
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