Quoth Siddhartha: “With me too, friend, it is as it is with you. I’m going nowhere. I’m just travelling. I’m on a pilgrimage.”
Govinda spoke: “You’re saying: you’re on a pilgrimage, and I believe in you. But, forgive me, O Siddhartha, you do not look like a pilgrim. You’re wearing a rich man’s garments, you’re wearing the shoes of a distinguished gentleman, and your hair, with the fragrance of perfume, is not a pilgrim’s hair, not the hair of a Samana.”
“Right so, my dear, you have observed well, your keen eyes see everything. But I haven’t said to you that I was a Samana. I said: I’m on a pilgrimage. And so it is: I’m on a pilgrimage.”
“You’re on a pilgrimage,” said Govinda. “But few would go on a pilgrimage in such clothes, few in such shoes, few with such hair. Never I have met such a pilgrim, being a pilgrim myself for many years.”
“I believe you, my dear Govinda. But now, today, you’ve met a pilgrim just like this, wearing such shoes, such a garment. Remember, my dear: Not eternal is the world of appearances, not eternal, anything but eternal are our garments and the style of our hair, and our hair and bodies themselves. I’m wearing a rich man’s clothes, you’ve seen this quite right. I’m wearing them, because I have been a rich man, and I’m wearing my hair like the worldly and lustful people, for I have been one of them.”
“And now, Siddhartha, what are you now?”
“I don’t know it, I don’t know it just like you. I’m travelling. I was a rich man and am no rich man any more, and what I’ll be tomorrow, I don’t know.”
“You’ve lost your riches?”
“I’ve lost them or they me. They somehow happened to slip away from me. The wheel of physical manifestations is turning quickly,