“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!”
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?”
