| FIRST PART |
| THE SON OF THE BRAHMAN |
| WITH THE SAMANAS |
| GOTAMA |
| AWAKENING |
| SECOND PART |
| KAMALA |
| WITH THE CHILDLIKE PEOPLE |
| SANSARA |
| BY THE RIVER |
| THE FERRYMAN |
| THE SON |
| OM |
| GOVINDA |
In the shade of the house, in the sunshine of the riverbank near the boats, inthe shade of the Sal-wood forest, in the shade of the fig tree is whereSiddhartha grew up, the handsome son of the Brahman, the young falcon, togetherwith his friend Govinda, son of a Brahman. The sun tanned his light shouldersby the banks of the river when bathing, performing the sacred ablutions, thesacred offerings. In the mango grove, shade poured into his black eyes, whenplaying as a boy, when his mother sang, when the sacred offerings were made,when his father, the scholar, taught him, when the wise men talked. For a longtime, Siddhartha had been partaking in the discussions of the wise men,practising debate with Govinda, practising with Govinda the art of reflection,the service of meditation. He already knew how to speak the Om silently, theword of words, to speak it silently into himself while inhaling, to speak itsilently out of himself while exhaling, with all the concentration of his soul,the forehead surrounded by the glow of the clear-thinking spirit. He alreadyknew to feel Atman in the depths of his being, indestructible, one with theuniverse.
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 andpriest, a prince among the Brahmans.
Bliss leapt in his mother’s breast when she saw him, when she saw himwalking, when she saw him sit down and get up, Siddhartha, strong, handsome, hewho was walking on slender legs, greeting her with perfect respect.
Love touched the hearts of the Brahmans’ young daughters when Siddharthawalked through the lanes of the town with the luminous forehead, with the eyeof a king, with his slim hips.
But more than all the others he was loved by Govinda, his friend, the son of aBrahman. He loved Siddhartha’s eye and sweet voice, he loved his walk andthe perfect decency of his movements, he loved everything Siddhartha did andsaid and what he loved most was his spirit, his transcendent, fiery thoughts,his ardent will, his high calling. Govinda knew: he would not become a commonBrahman, not a lazy official in charge of offerings; not a greedy merchant withmagic spells; not a vain, vacuous speaker; not a mean, deceitful priest; andalso not a decent, stupid sheep in the herd of the m