Siddhartha
servant, you shall become his equal, or else I won’t be satisfied with
you. Kamaswami is starting to get old and lazy. If he’ll like you,
he’ll entrust you with a lot.”
Siddhartha thanked her and laughed, and when she found out that he had
not eaten anything yesterday and today, she sent for bread and fruits
and treated him to it.
“You’ve been lucky,” she said when they parted, “I’m opening one door
after another for you. How come? Do you have a spell?”
Siddhartha said: “Yesterday, I told you I knew how to think, to wait,
and to fast, but you thought this was of no use. But it is useful for
many things, Kamala, you’ll see. You’ll see that the stupid Samanas are
learning and able to do many pretty things in the forest, which the
likes of you aren’t capable of. The day before yesterday, I was still a
shaggy beggar, as soon as yesterday I have kissed Kamala, and soon I’ll
be a merchant and have money and all those things you insist upon.”
“Well yes,” she admitted. “But where would you be without me? What
would you be, if Kamala wasn’t helping you?”
“Dear Kamala,” said Siddhartha and straightened up to his full height,
“when I came to you into your grove, I did the first step. It was my
resolution to learn love from this most beautiful woman. From that
moment on when I had made this resolution, I also knew that I would
carry it out. I knew that you would help me, at your first glance at
the entrance of the grove I already knew it.”
“But what if I hadn’t been willing?”
“You were willing. 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 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.”
Kamala listened to him. She loved his voice, she loved the look from
his eyes.
“Perhaps it is so,” she said quietly, “as you say, friend. But perhaps
it is also like this: that Siddhartha is a handsome man, that his
glance pleases the women, that therefore good fortune is coming towards
him.”
With one kiss, Siddhartha bid his farewell. “I wish that it should be
this way, my teacher; that my glance shall please you, that always good
fortune shall come to me out of your direction!”
WITH THE CHILDLIKE PEOPLE
Siddhartha went to Kamaswami the merchant, he was directed into a rich
house, servants led him between precious carpets into a chamber, where
he awaited the master of the house.
Kamaswami entered, a swiftly, smoothly moving man with very gray hair,
with very intelligent, cautious eyes, with a greedy mouth. Politely,
the host and the guest greeted one another.
“I have been told,” the merchant began, “that you were a Brahman, a
learned man, but that you seek to be in the service of a merchant.
Might you have become destitute, Brahman, so that you seek to serve?”
“No,” said Siddhartha, “I have not become destitute and have never been
destitute. You should know that I’m coming from the Samanas, with whom
I have lived for a long time.”
“If you’re coming from the Samanas, how could you be anything but
destitute? Aren’t the Samanas entirely without possessions?”
“I am without possessions,” said Siddhartha, “if this is what you mean.
Surely, I am without possessions. But I am so voluntarily, and
therefore I am not destitute.”
“But what are you planning to live of, being without possessions?”
“I haven’t thought of this yet, sir. For more than three years, I have
been without possessions, and have never thought about of what I should
live.”
“So you’ve lived of the possessions of others.”
“Presumable this is how it is. After all, a merchant also lives of what
other people own.”
“Well said. But he wouldn’t take anything from another person for
nothing; he would give his merchandise in return.”
“So it seems to be indeed. Everyone takes, everyone gives, such is
life.”
“But if you don’t mind me asking: being without possessions, what would
you like to give?”
“Everyone gives what he has. The warrior gives strength, the merchant
gives merchandise, the teacher teachings, the farmer rice, the fisher
fish.”
“Yes indeed. And what is it now what you’ve got to give? What is it
that you’ve learned, what you’re able to do?”
“I can think. I can wait. I can fast.”
“That’s everything?”
“I believe, that’s everything!”
“And what’s the use of that? For example, the fasting—what is it good
for?”
“It is very good, sir. When a person has nothing to eat, fasting is the
smartest thing he could do. When, for example, Siddhartha hadn’t
learned to fast, he would have to accept any kind of service before
this day is up, whether it may be with you or wherever, because hunger
would force him to do so. But like this, Siddhartha can wait calmly, he
knows no impatience, he knows no emergency, for a long time he can
allow hunger to besiege him and can laugh about it. This, sir, is what
fasting is good for.”
“You’re right, Samana. Wait for a moment.”
Kamaswami left the room and returned with a scroll, which he handed to
his guest while asking: “Can you read this?”
Siddhartha looked at the scroll, on which a sales-contract had been
written down, and began to read out its contents.
“Excellent,” said Kamaswami. “And would you write something for me on
this piece of paper?”
He handed him a piece of paper and a pen, and Siddhartha wrote and
returned the paper.
Kamaswami read: “Writing is good, thinking is better. Being smart is
good, being patient is better.”
“It is excellent how you’re able to write,” the merchant praised him.
“Many a thing we will still have to discuss with one another. For
today, I’m asking you to be my guest and to live in this house.”
Siddhartha thanked and accepted, and lived in the dealer’s house from
now on. Clothes were brought to him, and shoes, and every day, a
servant prepared a bath for him. Twice a day, a plentiful meal was
served, but Siddhartha only ate once a day, and ate neither meat nor
did he drink wine. Kamaswami told him about his trade, showed him the
merchandise and storage-rooms, showed him calculations. Siddhartha got
to know many new things, he heard a lot and spoke little. And thinking
of Kamala’s words, he was never subservient to the merchant, forced him
to treat him as an equal, yes even more than an equal. Kamaswami
conducted his business with care and often with passion, but Siddhartha
looked upon all of this as if it was a game, the rules of which he
tried hard to learn precisely, but the contents of which did not touch
his heart.
He was not in Kamaswami’s house for long, when he already took part in
his landlord’s business. But daily, at the hour appointed by her, he
visited beautiful Kamala, wearing pretty clothes, fine shoes, and soon
he brought her gifts as well. Much he learned from her red, smart
mouth. Much he learned from her tender, supple hand. Him, who was,
regarding love, still a boy and had a tendency to plunge blindly and
insatiably into lust like into a bottomless pit, him she taught,
thoroughly starting with the basics, about that school of thought which
teaches that pleasure cannot be taken without giving pleasure, and that
every gesture, every caress, every touch, every look, every spot of the
body, however small it was, had its secret, which would bring happiness
to those who know about it and unleash it. She taught him, that lovers
must not part from one another after celebrating love, without one
admiring the other, without being just as defeated as they have been
victorious, so that none of them should start feeling fed up or
bored and get that evil feeling of having abused or having been abused.
Wonderful hours he spent with the beautiful and smart artist, became
her student, her lover, her friend. Here with Kamala was the worth and
purpose of his present life, not with the business of Kamaswami.
The merchant passed duties of writing important letters and
contracts on to him and got into the habit of discussing all important
affairs with him. He soon saw that Siddhartha knew little about rice
and wool, shipping and trade, but that he acted in a fortunate manner,
and that Siddhartha surpassed him, the merchant, in calmness and
equanimity, and in the art of listening and deeply understanding
previously unknown people. “This Brahman,” he said to a friend, “is no
proper merchant and will never be one, there is never any passion in
his soul when he conducts our business. But he has that mysterious
quality of those people to whom success comes all by itself, whether
this may be a good star of his birth, magic, or something he has
learned among Samanas. He always seems to be merely playing with our
business-affairs, they never fully become a part of him, they never
rule over him, he is never afraid of failure, he is never upset by a
loss.”
The friend advised the merchant: “Give him from the business he
conducts for you a third of the profits, but let him also be liable for
the same amount of the losses, when there is a loss. Then, he’ll become
more zealous.”
Kamaswami followed the advice. But Siddhartha cared little about this.
When he made a profit, he accepted it with equanimity; when he made
losses, he laughed and said: “Well, look at this, so this one turned
out badly!”
It seemed indeed, as if he did not care about the business. At one
time, he travelled to a village to buy a large harvest of rice there.
But when he got there, the rice had already been sold to another
merchant. Nevertheless, Siddhartha stayed for several days in that
village, treated the farmers for a drink, gave copper-coins to their
children, joined in the celebration of a wedding, and returned
extremely satisfied from his trip. Kamaswami held against him that he
had not turned back right away, that he had wasted time and money.
Siddhartha answered: “Stop scolding, dear friend! Nothing was ever
achieved by scolding. If a loss has occurred, let me bear that loss. I
am very satisfied with this trip. I have gotten to know many kinds of
people, a Brahman has become my friend, children have sat on my knees,
farmers have shown me their fields, nobody knew that I was a merchant.”
“That’s all very nice,” exclaimed Kamaswami indignantly, “but in fact,
you are a merchant after all, one ought to think! Or might you have
only travelled for your amusement?”
“Surely,” Siddhartha laughed, “surely I have travelled for my
amusement. For what else? I have gotten to know people and places, I
have received kindness and trust, I have found friendship. Look, my
dear, if I had been Kamaswami, I would have travelled back, being
annoyed and in a hurry, as soon as I had seen that my purchase had been
rendered impossible, and time and money would indeed have been lost.
But like this, I’ve had a few good days, I’ve learned, had joy, I’ve
neither harmed myself nor others by annoyance and hastiness. And if
I’ll ever return there again, perhaps to buy an upcoming harvest, or
for whatever purpose it might be, friendly people will receive me in a
friendly and happy manner, and I will praise myself for not showing any
hurry and displeasure at that time. So, leave it as it is, my friend,