একটা জিনিস নিয়া, একটা সমাজ নিয়া, একটা সুবিশাল মহাদেশ নিয়া কোনো ধারণা না থাকলেই কেবল এইরকম ছাইপাশ লেখা সম্ভব। আতঙ্কিত হওয়ার মতো বাজে। বুদ্ধকে নিয়া কথা বলতে গিয়াও এই লোক অচেতনে গ্রীক দর্শনেরই দ্বারস্থ হইছেন, হেরাক্লিটাস-পারমেনিদেসের নদীর আলাপে চলে গেছেন। খুবই হাল্কার উপর ঝাপসা দিয়া চারদিকের বর্ণনা, জায়গাটা ভারতবর্ষও হইতে পারে, চীনদেশও হইতে পারে, সাইপ্রাসও হইতে পারে। সবাই খালি আম খায় পুরা বই জুইড়া। শুধু নির্বাণ আর ওম বলতে শিখার পরেই ভারতীয় দর্শন নিয়া কথা বলতে চাইলে তো হইবো না। মানুষ নাকী এইদেশে মানুষের কানে কানে ওম বলতো! আমি মাঝি চরিত্র দেইখা আশান্বিত হইছিলাম, এখন মনে হয় জাতপাত নিয়া কিছু আসবে। জাতপাত বিষয়ে লেখক কিছু জানলে তো। ব্রাহ্মণের পোলারে দিয়া দাঁড় বাওয়াইছে, একবারও জানার চেষ্টা করে নাই এর ফলাফল কত বিকট হইতো পৃথিবীর এই প্রান্তে। ব্রাহ্মণ ব্রাহ্মণ করছে শুরু থেকেই, মানে তার ব্রাহ্মণ হইলো দ্রোণাচার্য আর দুর্বাসা-নারদ, লেখক একেবারেই বুঝাবুঝির মধ্যে যায় নাই, খোঁজ নিতে যায় নাই। একটা খুব বাজে বিষয় হইলো এইটা সপ্তদশ শতাব্দীতে লেখা হইলে বুঝতাম, এইটা লেখা হইছে বিশের দশকে, যখন টি ই লরেন্স আরব উটে চড়ে ঘুরে ফেলছে, ব্রিটিশরা ভারতকে লুট করা এবং বিশ্লেষণ করা কোনোটাই বাকী রাখে নাই, প্যাসেজ টু ইন্ডিয়া লেখা প্রায় শেষ, আর দশ বছর পর লাউরির আন্ডার দা ভলকানো চলে আসবে, চলে আসবে অরওয়েলের বার্মিজ ডেইজ। এই বই পৃথিবীর লক্ষ নারী ও নরকে ভারতীয় দর্শনের নামে গু গিলায়ে আসতেছে, এইটা আরো বাজে লাগতেছে। আর সবচাইতে বাজে বিষয় হইলো এইটা নাকী অনেক ভারতীয়ের, অনেক বাঙালী-পাঞ্জাবী-মারাঠীর প্রিয় বই। কীভাবে, সেইটা আমি ভাবতেও চাই না। হরিবল।
চূড়ান্ত রকমের হাইস্যকর একটা বই।

انعكست روح هسه الحيرى على الورق فأنتجت سدهارتا، ذلك الصبي الهندي الذي خاض رحلة طويلة طويلة، استغرقت العمر كله، بحثا عن الحقيقة.

سدهارتا هي رواية فلسفية في المقام الأول تطرح أسئلة وتحاول الإحابة عليها عن طريق تأملات الشخصيات والحوارات. تبدأ رحلة الصبي الهندوسي من طائفة البراهما حين يهجر قومه بعد أن تشبع واكتفى من تعليمات البراهما ليبدأ رحلة في المجهول حتى يروي عطشه للحقيقة. يرتحل سدهارتا من مكان لآخر، ويجرب عدة مذاهب، يعيش حياة الزهد، والعربدة، والتأمل والتعبد. وله في كل مرحلة نظريات واستنتاجات.

جميلة هي الرواية من حيث دعوتها للتفكير والتأمل وعدم الاكتفاء بتلقي المسلمات إلا أنها انحصرت في نطاق الديانتين البوذية والهندوسية، مما يحد من تأثيرها على من ليس لديه خلفية عن مبادئهما. كما أن ذائقتي تميل دوما نحو الواقعية التي ترسخ في عقلي الباطن أشد من حكايات الرحالة. هذا بالإضافة إلى أن ثمة جو وعظي في الرواية لم يرق لي.

4.5 STARS

Αυτό το βιβλίο που έμελε να είναι το τελευταίο της χρονιάς με δυσκόλεψε πάρα πολύ στο να βγάλω ένα συμπέρασμα, να του δώσω τη βαθμολογία που του αξίζει. Είμαι σκληρός αλλά προσπαθώ να επαναπροσδιορίζω, να μη γίνομαι απόλυτος κι αδυσώπητος.

Το βιβλίο αυτό λέει την ίδια ιστορία που λένε όλα τα μεγάλα βιβλία για τη φθορά του ανθρώπου τόσο μέσα στο ομοιογενές σύστημα μοναχικότητας, κατάκτησης της γνώσης κι εξεύρεσης του εαυτού, όσο και στην εντονότητα του κόσμου. Δε γίνεται να βρίσκεσαι στο ένα χωρίς να έχεις περάσει απ’ το άλλο, απ’ όποια πλευρά κι αν το πιάσεις κι ούτε γίνεται να μιλάς τόσο ακατάπαυστα, να λατρεύεις να ακούς τον ήχο της φωνής σου, να εισπράττεις την προσοχή των άλλων χωρίς να έχεις μάθει ν’ ακούς, ούτε αυτά γίνονται το ένα χωρίς το άλλο. Η γνώση κι η εμπειρία πορεύονται αντάμα, η καθεμιά βαφτίζεται μέσα στην άλλη, έτσι σχηματίζονται γνώμες, έτσι πατάμε γερά στις ατραπούς και μαθαίνουμε πως οι δυσκολίες δεν είναι σοβαρότερες απ’ όσο αντέχουμε και να ευχαριστούμε τη Θεία Πρόνοια που δεν είναι περισσότερες. Ένα ακόμη σημαντικό μάθημα αυτής της κοπής βιβλίων είναι πως ο ρόλος μας δεν είναι αυτός του κριτή, ποιός είμαι εγώ να κρίνω, μπορώ να πορεύομαι και η δυναμικότητα δεν αναιρείται απ' την υπομονή. Δυο αξίες είναι, όχι αλληλένδετες, ούτε αλληλοαναιρούμενες.

Ήθελα να το απαξιώσω γιατί η προηγούμενη εμπειρία μου απ’ τον Έσσε δεν ήταν καλή, χαρακτηρίζοντας το λυρικό. Ύστερα κατάλαβα πως το κάνει επίτηδες. Δεν είναι απλά λυρικό εκεί που χρειάζεται κι ίσως σε ορισμένα σημεία που δε χρειάζεται, είναι εύκολο να διαβαστεί, κυλάει. Είναι το ίδιο τέχνασμα που χρησιμοποιούσε ο δικός μας, Ξενόπουλος για να είναι προσιτά τα έργα του στο παιδί, στο βενζινά, στο λόγιο, να δρέψει ο καθένας αυτό που μπορεί.

Ο Μίλλερ είχε δίκιο, αυτό το βιβλίο λέει σπουδαία πράγματα με ωραιότερο τρόπο και σκληρότερο από τη Βίβλο. Αυτό και ο Ζαντίγκ θα έπρεπε να βρίσκονται σε όλα τα σχολεία.

Για ‘μενα προσωπικά το βιβλίο είναι λίγο, έμαθα το μάθημα μου απ’ τη ζωή μου και από άλλους πολύ μεγάλους συγγραφείς. Όμως κάθε επανάληψη είναι καλή, βοηθάει στην εμπέδωση.

Και κάτι ακόμη, υπάρχουν αλήθεια σας λέω πολλοί άνθρωποι χαμένοι εκεί έξω, μόνοι ή αποπροσανατολισμένοι στη συνάφεια του κόσμου που τη χαρακτήρισε ο τρισμέγιστος Καβάφης. Αυτό το βιβλίο μπορεί να διαβαστεί απ’ όλους. Δωρίστε το.

Τα φιλιά μου, τα σέβη μου σε όσους είναι καλύτεροι μου και πιο βασανισμένοι και καλή χρονιά να έχουμε. Αυτές οι επόμενες ημέρες αξίζουν τη χροιά που θα τους δώσουμε κι αυτή πρέπει να είναι μόνο η συντροφικότητα κι η αγάπη, απολογισμό και στόχους μπορούμε να βάζουμε κάθε μέρα, όπως μου έμαθε κάποια φίλη, δεν είναι αυτή η αξία της μέρας ή των γιορτών.

Τέλος, θα ήθελα να πω δυο λόγια για το πώς έφτασε στα χέρια μου αυτό το βιβλίο. Υπάρχει ένας ‘’θεσμός’’ στη Λέσχη του Βιβλίου ( http://www.λέσχη.gr/forum/ ) αφορά τη συμμετοχή των μελών προτείνοντας τρία βιβλία της επιλογής του και μετά γίνεται κλήρωση ποιος με ποιόν. Δε θα το διάβαζα διαφορετικά, θα το είχα απορρίψει. Δεν είναι τρομερό; Είναι γιατί έχω μια φίλη που τη διέλυσαν οι άνθρωποι κι έχω μια πρώην που την ξεσκίσανε οι συνθήκες. Καμιά τους δε διαβάζει, πως θα μπορούσαν τώρα να ξεκινήσουν με ένα Κόκκινο και Μαύρο, ή τις Χαμένες Ψευδαισθήσεις, ή το Εγχειρίδιο Πρακτικής Σοφίας και τη Μυστική Ζωή. Δύσκολα βιβλία που απαιτούν το δικό μας ‘’μαζοχισμό’’ αγαπητοί συναναγνώστες. Αυτό όμως το βιβλίο και ο Ζαντίγκ θα επιμείνω είναι εύκολα και άξια βιβλία ακόμη και για ανθρώπους που μπορεί να μην ξαναδιαβάσουν ποτέ.

سومین کتابی بود که از هسه می‌خوندم.
کتاب اول دمیان بود، سخت‌خوان و کمی سرد، دوستش نداشتم در زمان خواندنش.
کتاب دوم، داستان دوست من بود، ادبیات به نسبت روانی داشت، ولی مثل دمیان سرد بود! نمیشد خوب ارتباط برقرار کرد با دنیاش.
و حالا کتاب سوم، سیدارتها...

قبل از اینکه برم سراغش، تعاریف زیادی شنیده بودم ازش، حتی از منابع غیرفارسی هم بارها بهم توصیه شده بود.
با انتظارات یک شاهکار رفتم سمتش، ولی خب، نشد... برای من، اونطور که باید نبود. چرا که تمام عقاید و چارچوب‌های فلسفی ذهن من، در باب زندگی، در باب عشق و لذت بردن از عمر، بطور کامل با این کتاب در تضاد بود!
صفحه به صفحه و سطر به سطر کتاب رو عذاب کشیدم از حسی که به متنش داشتم!
من نه عقاید برهمنی برام قابل درک بود، نه افکار شمنی!
نه از مرتاض‌ها دلِ خوشی دارم، نه به بودیسم علاقمندم!
و معتقدم در زندگی، همونقدر که به دنبال کشف منِ واقعی خودمون هستیم، باید از امیال و لذات دنیوی هم استفاده کرده و بهره ببریم!
درویش صفتی و برهمنی و شمنی و بودیسم و سلوک و آزار به جسم و چشم‌پوشی از لذات دنیوی و قهر با شهوت جنسی و بی‌میلی به ثروت و بی‌توجهی به بدن و غیره، که در این کتاب در موردشون بسیار صحبت شده، باب میل من و موازی با خط فکری من نیست!

نکته بعدی، هسه خیلی سخت می‌نویسه! هر صد صفحه از کتاباش به اندازه دویست صفحه از کتابای دیگه پتانسیل و انرژی میبره!
حالا این سخت‌نویسی رو ترکیب کنید با ترجمه سروش حبیبی! چه شود!
خیلی شاعرانه ترجمه شده کتاب، به حدی که دلو می‌زنه!
نمیگم زیبا نیست، زیباست، انصافا جملات و صفحاتی در کتاب بود که شاید مثلش رو توی آثار دیگه‌ای نخونده بودم، اما دیگه خیلی شاعرانه بود، خیلی جملات غیرعامیانه داشت، خیلی اذیت شدم!
یا شاید هم سواد کافی برای درک عظمت کتاب و زیبایی نثرش رو نداشتم! :)

احساس می‌کنم هرکسی این نوشته رو بخونه، کلا منو بلاک کنه! چون تقریبا تمام نقدهای این کتاب، ازش تعریف کردن! :))
اما باور کنید تا جایی که تونستم ارفاق کردم! می‌تونستم با بیانی تندتر بنویسم و بیشتر بتوپم! :))

سرتونو درد نیارم، نه هسه نویسنده‌ی منه، نه سیدارتها کتاب منه، و نه سروش حیبی مترجم منه!
من مال این دنیا نیستم! :))
متاسفانه دو کتاب دیگه از هسه دارم که چون پول دادم طبیعتا مجبورم بخونمشون! :))

توصیه می‌کنم به حرف‌های منِ بی‌سواد اکتفا نکنید، نظرات سایر دوستان رو هم بخونید، و خودتون کتاب رو ارزیابی کنید.
من ولی خوشم نیومد! دو ستاره بهش میدم...

«Καλά δεν έχεις διαβάσει Έσσε;», με ρώτησε η φίλη μου, λέμε τώρα, καρακάξα και με κοίταξε μ’ένα βλέμμα γεμάτο απαξίωση.
Έτοιμο ήμουν να βγάλω τη γλώσσα μου, να συρίξω και να χώσω τα δόντια μου και να την δαγκώσω, να το βουλώσει μια και καλή, έλα όμως που δεν είχα διαβάσει Έσσε και δεν ήξερα πως έπρεπε να συμπεριφερθώ.
«Όχι, δεν έχω διαβάσει. Δεν το ‘χω με τους Γερμανούς. Ένα ολοκαύτωμα, δυο παγκόσμιοι πόλεμοι, τρία μνημόνια δεν…», μουρμούρισα μετά βίας μέσα από τα δόντια μου και σύρθηκα πάραυτα στο κοντινότερο βιβλιοπωλείο να βρω τον πρώτο Έσσε που θα ‘πεφτε στο κεφάλι μου.
«Σιντάρτα», λοιπόν… Ένα ινδικό παραμύθι ως υπότιτλος. Ξεκινώ λοιπόν, με βαριά καρδιά και άκρως προκατειλημμένο. Όχι, αποκλείεται ένας Γερμανός να έχει πνεύμα. Τι κι αν πήρε το Νόμπελ; Μήπως δεν ξέρουμε τις κλίκες και τα μέσα που δίνονται όλα τα βραβεία; Σ’εμάς τώρα;
Διαβάζω την πρώτη σελίδα, εντάξει λέω… «σιγά τα ωά». Μεγάλες προτάσεις, κάτι λυρικές περιγραφές, μπερδεμένο λεξιλόγιο… Εντάξει ρε μεγάλε, καταλάβαμε… Και συνεχίζω γιατί εκτός από φίδι φαρμακόγλωσσο, είμαι και φίδι καταναγκαστικόν. Δεν αφήνω βιβλίο στη μέση.
Τι κόλλημα έπαθα φίλε μου; Πόσα νοήματα ζωής μέσα σε τόσες λίγες σελίδες; Μετά από αυτό το βιβλίο, σίγουρα δεν είμαι το ίδιο φίδι. Άλλαξα φιδοπουκάμισο, φοβάμαι πως έγινα καλύτερο φίδι, πιο ανεκτικό, πιο αγαπησιάρικο, πιο σοφό… Θε Μου, πώς θα δαγκώνω τώρα;
Ο νεαρός Σιντάρτα, παρέα με το φίλο του, τον Γκοβίντα, εγκαταλείπει πατέρα, φυλή, πατρίδα σε αναζήτηση της υπέρτατης αλήθειας. Από γιος βραχμάνου, γίνεται σαμάνος, γνωρίζει την ηδονή με την Καμάλα την εταίρα, παρατάει τα πλούτη για να γίνει περαματάρης, γνωρίζει τον άγνωστο γιο του για να τον χάσει… Ω! είναι από τα βιβλία που δεν έχει καμία απολύτως σημασία η υπόθεση. Η ιστορία είναι μόνο το προκάλυμμα για να σου πει όλα όσα έχει να σου πει.
Συμβουλή… Να είστε έτοιμοι για ένα ταξίδι φιλοσοφίας, αναζήτησης, αναγνώρισης του εαυτού σας… Δεν είναι εύκολο πράγμα τούτο… Μόνο αν είστε έτοιμοι να βουτήξετε στα βαθιά, να το διαβάσετε… αλλιώς είναι κρίμα να το κάψετε. Δεν είναι «βαρύ» με την κλασική έννοια του όρου… Πιστεύω, θέλω να πιστεύω, πως μπορεί να διαβαστεί σχεδόν από όλους, αρκεί να είναι έτοιμοι, με ανοιχτό μυαλό και ακόμα περισσότερο, ανοιχτή καρδιά. Και να έχετε δίπλα σας ένα φωσφορούχο μαρκαδόρο… για να υπογραμμίζετε… ξανά και ξανά…
Δες λοιπόν, που κι οι Γερμανοί βγάζουν μυαλά… και τι μυαλά!!! Μετά απ’όλα αυτά αντιλαμβάνεστε, πως είναι ένα βιβλίο που πέρα από συγκρίσεις και από βαθμολογία.

Hesse never really made the grade with this one in my young mind. I read it in 1973, and found it compounded my youthful confusion. Simply put, it conflicted jarringly with an insight I had been blessed - or cursed - with three years earlier.

That insight was that the purity of Being is insulted by our widespread profligacy.

Call it ontological if you prefer, but following Heidegger I saw the Crown of Being as the very germ and goal of a spiritual quest.

Stephane Mallarme spins an imaginative simile for this effect: calling it “le cristal par le monstre insulte.” I’ve always found that metaphor apropos, because it clearly reifies the feeling as a concrete image.

There are two ways to embark on a quest: following the Eastern path, or stepping in line with the Western mystical canons.

The Eastern path, at least in modern times, is a way of peaceful meditation. It was not always so, but we moderns have relaxed our world views and our ideals. The Western way is similar nowadays, though traditionally we were made of sterner stuff.

In Hesse’s time the Eastern Way promised the lure of romantic exoticism. But by the time he wrote Siddhartha, he lived in an existential fire pit of despair. He needed its peace as well.

So in modern times the image of religion has been pasteurized, sanitized and commercialized. Kids see very little promise in it, let alone a way out of their inner storms. This is the uncomfortable legacy we have bequeathed to them, and it makes me squirm.

But for me, fifty years ago, founded in learning and philosophy, it was the Quest for Being amidst its opposing indecent insult by the world.

The real outside world offered no help. So I took my struggle within.

Now, a full half century later I’ve found rest for my soul.

And - no - it bears no resemblance to Siddhartha’s ceaseless though romanticized flux.

No.

It’s the quiet, concrete simplicity of an everyday life.

3.0/5 stars.
also spoilers!!!!!!

tell me this: why did the main character have the same name as the buddha, live during the same time as the buddha, yet isn't the buddha. yes, that is an important clarification because i was so confused.

so this is a fictional novel depicting a subjective religious experience. it very much is about buddhism and is centered around buddhist ideas, but is not meant to be buddhism 101. it's not scripture. as with every anecdote about any religion, there are shades of grey and personal takes.

that being said, it's really fucking weird. there are things that are very strange today, and would have read even more odd in 1922, so i'm not sure what hesse was on, but more importantly, do you think he'd share?

essentially, siddharta is a young man boy, maybe 16, when he gets a little bored, so he leaves his family to go hang out in the forest for a while to get enlightened, starving himself and what not, his "friend" govinda going along with him. then, after few years they get bored of that because they're still not enlightened, so they go and meet the buddha. govinda, his lover friend joins the buddha but sid straight up says "nah, he's not right tho" and continues on his spiritual journey by himself. then sid has a dream where he kisses govinda, who then turns into a woman, from whom he then breastfeeds (it might not have been spiritual but that was some kind of awakening-). sid then moves on to live in a town, where he falls in love with a prostitute named kamala and has to become a capitalist in order to be able pay her. he lives in a miserable cycle of hedonism for over a decade, when suddenly he realizes that he's still not enlightened. then BOOM GUESS WHO'S PREGNANT? but by now sid is long gone, living as a ferryman because the other ferryman is his armchair psychologist and he stopped taking his meds the river "speaks" to him, so he does that for about 10 or so years before BOOM KAM AND THE KID-THAT-DIDN'T-KNOW-HE-HAD SHOW UP AND KAM GETS BITTEN BY A SNAKE AND DIES. now there's two and a half men living in one tent: the og ferryman, sid, and his kid. basically they do their thing for a few years, but the heavily traumatized child doesn't bond to sid the way he wants him to, so the 11/12 year old child steals the boat and runs off (never to be seen again) and apparently we're fine with that. then the og ferryman is like "you're now responsible for the river, i'm ascending lolol" and walks off into the forest, also never to be seen again. then one day guess who shows up needing a ferry, none other than his long lost love, govinda (live laugh love the reunion trope). then they touch foreheads and kiss and sid says that he's discovered that the most important thing in life is love. the end.

and that's a pretty accurate summary. except that on a technicality, "no, caitlin, they're not homosexuals, blah blah blah, this is about religion, blah blah blah..."

but what i'm hearing is that both you and hesse need to do some serious internal reflection as to why they "can't" be gay. because that was more homoerotic than anything i've ever seen in my entire life and i am dying on that hill and going down with that ship.

not to mention, it's so incredibly far from passing the bechdel test. it doesn't even pass the sexy lamp test. without hyperbole, the one and only female character's entire purpose is to sleep/have a child with the male main character. sigh.

so yeah, it was fun, i guess?
but i can't be the only one who thought it's weird to have a straight, white, christian german write a book about fruity brown buddhists.

Siddhartha is a deceptively simple, beautifully written book about one man’s search for meaning in his life. When I first read it as a young man surrounded by the countercultural ethos of the late 60s and early 70s, I was intrigued by the story of the young man who leaves his father to set out on his own path to achieve enlightenment, not that I seriously intended to do anything similar. Reading it now, many years later, I think I’m better able to appreciate the entirety of Siddhartha’s lifelong journey, through so many stages of life into old age.

Siddhartha was born into a privileged and respected Brahmin family. But as he grew older, something was missing. “[E]verybody loved Siddhartha. He delighted and made everybody happy. But Siddhartha himself was not happy.” He knew he would have to go his own way. His first instinct was to become an ascetic. “Siddhartha had one single goal—to become empty, to become empty of thirst, desire, dreams, pleasure and sorrow—to let the Self die.”

Accompanied by his friend Govinda, he joins the ascetic Samanas. But after a while, he concludes that this is not the path for him. He tells Govinda that he believes that “amongst all the Samanas, probably not even one will attain Nirvana. We find consolations, we learn tricks with which we deceive ourselves, but the essential thing—the way—we do not find.” He and Govinda meet Gotama, the Buddha, and although Siddhartha is curious about his teachings, the teachings are not enough for him, and he goes on his way alone.

He comes to the conclusion that his journey has been misdirected. “Meaning and reality were not hidden somewhere behind things, they were in them, in all of them.” With this insight, Siddhartha embraces the world around him. He learns about love from a beautiful woman, Kamala. He learns about business and becomes a rich merchant. But this new life does not bring fulfillment. Far from it. “Slowly, like moisture entering the dying tree trunk, slowly filling it and rotting it, so did the world and inertia creep into Siddhartha’s soul; it slowly filled his soul, made it heavy, made it tired, sent it to sleep.” He leaves the city and wanders through the woods, wishing for death.

In this despondent state, he meets the ferryman, Vasudeva, who invites him to live with him in his hut near the river and help him with his work. Vasudeva encourages him to listen to the river and learn from it. Watching the river, Siddhartha “saw that the water continually flowed and flowed and yet it was always there; it was always the same and yet every moment it was new.” Siddhartha applies this observation to his own life:

“I reviewed my life and it was also a river, and Siddhartha the boy, Siddhartha the mature man and Siddhartha the old man, were only separated by shadows, not through reality. Siddhartha’s previous lives were also not in the past, and his death and his return to Brahma are not in the future. Nothing was, nothing will be, everything has reality and presence.”

Is this the wisdom that Siddhartha was seeking? Did he find the enlightenment that had been so elusive throughout the stages of his life? Is he finally free from the burden of the journey? And if so, is this the lesson that Hesse is trying to teach the reader?

It seems to me that Hesse intends Siddhartha’s journey to be instructive but not prescriptive. Every person needs to go on his or her own journey, find his or her own wisdom. As Siddhartha tells Govinda, the friend of his youth, when they unexpectedly meet late in life, “Wisdom is not communicable. The wisdom which a wise man tries to communicate always sounds foolish.… Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom. One can find it, live it, be fortified by it, do wonders through it, but one cannot communicate and teach it.”

شاید کتاب سیدارتها نوشته هرمان هسه نویسنده مشهور آلمانی را بتوان ستایش نویسنده ازمفاهیمی مانند رفتن ، جستجو کردن و به آرامش و حقیقت دست یافتن دانست ، سفری معنوی که در خلال آن می توان به خودشناسی ، شناخت معرفت و حقیقت رسید .
سیدارتها قهرمان داستان او بدین گونه پای در سفر و سلوک معنوی خود می گذارد ، او خانه پدری را ترک کرده تا شمن شود ، سالیانی به ریاضت کشی و تقویت روح و ذهن خود پرداخته اما به ناگهان پی می برد که با ریاضت کشی تنها نمی توان به حقیقت دست یافت . سفر معنوی و عرفانی او ناگهان به سفری مادی مبدل می شود ، سیدارتها در این مرحله از سفر خود از زیبایی ها و خوشی های زندگی تا حد افراط برخوردار می شود ولی همچنان از مقصد خود بسیار دور مانده است . او سفر خود را باردیگر شروع می کند تا به رودی می رسد ، با گوش دادن به آوای رود سیدارتها به حقیقت می رسد و راه رستگاری را پیدا می کند .
با پایان یافتن کتاب ، خواننده ای مانند من شاید مفاهیم کتاب را غیر کاربردی و کمی شعاری بداند ، شاید فلسفه مورد نظر جناب هسه اندکی اعتبار خود را از دست داده باشد ، شاید هم رسیدن به رود آبی و گوش سپردن به صدای جادویی آن راهی برای رسیدن به خودشناسی و رستگاری باشد .
در پایان می توان گفت تاکید جناب هسه شاید بر پیوسته بودن و جاری بودن همه امور جهان باشد ،او زندگی را مجموعه ای از خوشی ها و شادی ها ،غم ها و رنج ها ،بیماری ها و ترس ها مانند یک بدن پیوسته و همانند یک رود رونده می بیند و شاید از نگاه هرمان هسه تنها با فرورفتن در این رود است که می توان به کمال رسید .

I recently reread Hesse’s Steppenwolf, a book I had not read since my teens, and liked the memory trip it afforded me. Hesse was important to me as a young man, and I learned much from the romantic German seeker who journeyed to the East and wrote of a spiritual tradition that I deemed to be less judgmental and binary (good/bad) than my Dutch Reformed Calvinist upbringing. Siddhartha was very important to me in bringing to life through story a way of synthesizing western and eastern spiritual ideas. Hesse was German, traveled to the east to study the Buddhist spiritual tradition, and he creates a character, Siddhartha, on a life journey to enlightenment, to help us see how such a synthesis can take place.

“We are not going in circles, we are going upwards. The path is a spiral; we have already climbed many steps.”

We were all on that road to self-discovery, as I saw it then. So many young people in the late sixties—disenchanted by sexism, racism, the onset of environmental disaster, more war—were looking for alternatives to western capitalist society that had led us to the “Eve of Destruction,” and Hesse showed scruffy, anti-Establishment idealists like me how to begin to create a different life, one that was more communal, more accepting, more committed to love and serving others. With Siddhartha, we tried to learn to laugh with the river.

Of course, as Siddhartha himself made clear in this book, things would change, we would betray those ideals, we would we would stray from the path of enlightenment, but he also saw that the staying and straying is all the same path, and vestiges of that idealism would remain as we circle back over time to those early commitments.

Hesse gives us, in this late middle aged reader’s reading of the book, a story of enlightenment, of a man’s life of leaving home against his father’s wishes and traveling to the East to meet the Buddha. For a time Siddhartha would go down a different path for a time of materialism, of licentiousness, gambling, lust, which led to despair, but then he rights the ship, he returns to the better way on his spiritual path. He is supported by a good friend, Govinda, a Buddhist; he meets a woman, Kamala, who teaches him the path of love:

“So she thoroughly taught him that one cannot take pleasure without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every glance, every last bit of the body has its secret, which brings happiness to the person who knows how to wake it.

With Kamala he also has a son, also Siddhartha, who leaves him as he left his father.

Siddhartha actually meets Gautama, the Buddha. He is also guided in part by conversations with a boatman, Vasudeva, who teaches him to laugh, and be accepting:

“I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.”

It’s a simple story, a kind of allegory of spiritual searching. It’s maybe even pretty didactic, as it is more of a spiritual teaching text, but as a novel, it does reveal the complexities of Siddhartha’s character, and the depths of his relationships. Not everyone chooses the path Siddhartha chooses. His friend Gautama chooses Buddhism; Kamala chooses the way of physical pleasure, Siddhartha’s son chooses a more licentious life, and they are all good for them, Hesse makes clear. He does not judge them. He accepts others and learns to be at peace and laugh.

“It is not for me to judge another man's life. I must judge, I must choose, I must spurn, purely for myself. For myself, alone.”

I finally liked it very much, again. At first in rereading it I thought it was simplistic, too didactic, (someone said literary types thought of Hesse as Thomas Mann-lite, a kind of easy, pop spiritualist), but then I rediscovered the kind of purity he brings to his story. If we think of The Brothers Karamazov as a kind of spiritual journey depicting an array of choices, as it surely is, in a way, Dostoevsky’s novel is far greater, far more complex, but Siddhartha has an earnestness to it. Is it a young person’s book? I think so, but I liked it more than I had anticipated. It made me think of my own life and path.

“When someone seeks," said Siddhartha, "then it easily happens that his eyes see only the thing that he seeks, and he is able to find nothing, to take in nothing because he always thinks only about the thing he is seeking, because he has one goal, because he is obsessed with his goal. Seeking means: having a goal. But finding means: being free, being open, having no goal.”

Cat Stevens, “On the Road to Find Out”:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPv0-...

Rereading Siddhartha After Many Years

I read Herman Hesse's short novel "Siddhartha" in high school, as many people of my generation did and as many young people still do. I remember being deeply moved by the book and going on to read more of Hesse over several years. Then, I put Hesse aside for a long time. Even though I grew seriously interested in Buddhism some years ago, I was not moved to revisit "Siddhartha" or Hesse.

After rereading "Narcissus and Goldmund", I returned at last to "Siddhartha". It is difficult to recapture feelings from many years ago, but I was moved again by Hesse's book but probably saw it differently than I did when I was young. Although the book appeals primarily to young readers, something is to be gained by reading it late in life. The book has deservedly become famous and will at any age reward reading.

Hesse's novel tells the story of the title character from his youth through old age. Siddhartha is the child of a well-to-do Brahmin and is a gifted student with a good friend, Govinda. As an adolescent, Siddhartha experiences spiritual discontent and to the chagrin of his father joins an ascetic sect, the Samanas, which wander the forest practicing self-mortification. After some years, Siddhartha again realizes he is dissatisfied. He and Govinda, who has joined him, go to hear the teachings of the Buddha. Govinda becomes a follower but Siddhartha, after a conversation with the Buddha, wanders on his way looking for experiences rather than teachings. After crossing a river through a mysterious ferryman, Siddhartha comes to a town, meets and becomes enamored of a beautiful courtesan, Kamala, and ultimately becomes rich, successful, and Kamala's lover. Siddhartha again comes to feel the emptiness of this life and wanders off where he meets the old ferryman and, with guidance from the ferryman and from the river, spends the rest of his life ferrying people over the river and attains peace and contentment at last.

Young people probably read "Siddhartha" because of the protagonist's search for meaning in life which begins in youth. Reading at later in life, one might think more about Siddhartha's old age. It might be tempting to suppose that Siddhartha rejected the materialism and sensuality he adopted in the middle years of his life, but that is not the case. It seems to me that the elderly Siddhartha accepted his activities and experiences during these years and saw them as continuous with his life as part of a timeless whole. So too, some might refer to Siddhartha's search as involving in recent jargon "finding oneself" but Siddhartha seeks to lose the sense of a separate self and to try to see reality whole.

Instead of the rejection of American society of the counter-culture of my youth, Siddhartha finds an acceptance of himself, of others, and of the culture in which he lives. He says at one point that the difference between the wise and other people is that the former avoid taking the part for the whole, and even that insight can be overdone. Although Siddhartha comes to believe in the inadequacy of words and concepts to express full reality, he tries to explain his insights several times in the latter part of the book. When he meets again his old friend Govinda who has become a faithful disciple of the Buddha, Siddhartha struggles to explain what he has learned.

"[I]t seems to me that everything that exists is good -- death as well as life , sin as well as holiness, wisdom as well as folly. Everything is necessary, everything needs only my agreement, my assent, my loving understanding; then all is well with me and nothing can harm me. I learned through my body and soul that it was necessary for me to sin, that I needed lust, that I had to strive for property and experience nausea and the depths of despair in order to learn not to resist them, in order to love the world, and no longer compare it with some kind of desired imaginary world, some imaginary vision of perfection, but to leave it as it is, to love it and be glad to belong to it."

There is a sense of understanding of one's life and of a love and acceptance of reality as a whole and -- more concretely -- of the society in which one lives -- that becomes an important part of Siddhartha's wisdom. Parts of this understanding may not be apparent to young readers who love Hesse's novel or, indeed, to other readers stung with a sense of social criticism, as was the case in late 1960s America and as remains the case today. Something is to be learned from a spiritual vision that might have escaped youthful readers.

I learned a great deal from reading and thinking about "Siddhartha" again and in thinking about reading the book when I was young.

Robin Friedman

Desde hacía rato que quería leer Siddhartha, de Hermann Hesse. No soy muy aficionado de la literatura espiritual, e incluso muchas veces la rehuyo, pero de todas formas algo en este libro me llamaba la atención. Había oído suficientes cosas buenas de este autor para entender que darle una oportunidad a Siddhartha valía la pena. Así que lo empecé, llevado más por un impulso que por algo minuciosamente deliberado y planificado.

Leí los primeros dos capítulos en dos semanas. Esto puede no hablar muy bien del contenido literario o espiritual de Siddhartha, pero en realidad siento que fallé en avanzar a una velocidad adecuada porque en ese entonces no me había «abierto» a lo que me podía contar Hesse. Lo repito: no suelo leer este tipo de libros. Sin embargo, hoy le volví a dar una chance y traté de embarcarme en la lectura de una manera diferente, quizá más privada o personal; y, como verán, ya lo tengo terminado. Y debo aceptar que fue un viaje extraordinario, por el que recorrí con el samana Siddhartha su búsqueda de la sabiduría suprema y la paz del alma de forma voyeurista pero no por eso menos auténtica.

Como nos cuenta este relato, la sabiduría no puede ser enseñada. Descomponer información en lenguaje puede llegar a ser factible, pero no resulta así con una experiencia. La sabiduría se alcanza a través del ser interno, desde el exterior hasta el interior, y es sumamente personal. De igual manera, Siddhartha, un poco contradictoriamente, puede llegar a dejar claras muchas ideas, algunas un tanto polémicas y otras reveladoras. Es una lectura que recomiendo mucho, siempre y cuando se la lea con la mente abierta. No puedo decir más puesto que este camino debe ser recorrido por uno mismo y descubierto en privado. Así que aquí tienen, avancen y déjense llevar.