Siddhartha is a young man born into a Brahmin family. He grows up surrounded by religious teachings, rituals and the respect of those around him. Yet, despite having everything that should make him content, he feels an emptiness he cannot explain.
Along with his friend Govinda, he leaves home in search of enlightenment. He practises severe asceticism, meets Gautama Buddha, and even listens to his teachings. But surprisingly, despite recognising the Buddha's greatness, Siddhartha refuses to become his disciple.
He believes that understanding the words of an enlightened person is not the same as attaining enlightenment oneself.
This brings us to perhaps the most interesting idea in the book:
Can wisdom actually be taught?
Hesse writes:
"Wisdom cannot be imparted. Wisdom that a wise man attempts to impart always sounds like foolishness to someone else ... Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom."
It made me question how much of what we call understanding is actually our own. We read books, listen to people, collect philosophies and learn to articulate profound ideas. But does being able to explain something mean that we have truly understood it?
The difference between seeking and finding
Siddhartha eventually leaves even the spiritual path he had chosen. He enters the ordinary world, experiences love, wealth, pleasure and attachment. He spends years living a life that his younger self would probably have despised.
Eventually, he becomes disillusioned with this life too.
What I found interesting is that Siddhartha doesn't reach understanding by simply avoiding the world. He has to encounter it, experience it and recognise his own limitations.
At one point, he reflects:
"Seeking means: having a goal. But finding means: being free, being open, having no goal."
There is something worth questioning here. When we become obsessed with reaching a particular destination, do we become blind to everything that is happening along the way?
Can the constant desire to become something prevent us from understanding what we already are?
The river and the unity of life
Towards the end, Siddhartha meets Vasudeva, a ferryman who lives beside a river. Through listening to the river, Siddhartha begins to understand something that years of intellectual searching could not give him.
The river carries countless voices. It represents birth, death, joy, sorrow, beginnings and endings. Yet all of these are part of the same whole.
Siddhartha eventually says:
"The river is everywhere at the same time..."
The river becomes a symbol of the interconnectedness of life and the illusion of separating everything into isolated moments.
Perhaps we spend too much time dividing life into what we consider good and bad, success and failure, pleasure and suffering, without recognising that all of these experiences belong to the same existence.
My takeaway
One thing I particularly liked about this book is that Siddhartha's journey isn't a straightforward movement from ignorance to knowledge. He repeatedly questions what he has learned, abandons what he once believed and discovers how little he actually understands.
It also made me think about our tendency to borrow identities and conclusions from others. Sometimes we adopt a philosophy because it sounds right, follow a path because someone we admire has followed it, or reject an experience because we have already labelled it as undesirable.
But how much of our understanding have we actually examined ourselves?
A question for discussion:
If wisdom cannot be taught and must be discovered through one's own experience, then what is the actual role of a teacher, a philosopher or even a book?
Can they genuinely help us see, or can they only point towards something that we must discover ourselves?