McKenzie Cooke
Accelerated English 12
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Siddhartha Comes to America
It was a busier day than normal at the airport, and it seemed as if people were scattered all over the place. Some rushed through the crowds in fear of missing their flights, some searched for their luggage in baggage claim, and some just stared at signs, completely confused as to where they were supposed to be going. I walked through the airport, through all the craziness, and went to stand with the other tour guides at the pick-up station. I held a sign that said Siddhartha in large letters. This was my newest client’s first name. It was going to be his first time in America, so I wanted him to be able to locate me as easily as possible.
A slender man looked over at me and began to approach me. He was holding a black sack that must have had his carry-on items in it, and there was blank look upon his face. I assumed this was Siddhartha because he was reading my sign, so I greeted him and introduced myself as his tour guide. I took his bag for him and we went outside where it was quiet to discuss which parts of America Siddhartha wished to see and experience.
“I do not know anything about America. I know no city names or landmarks,” answered Siddhartha when I asked him exactly where he wanted to go first. This answer puzzled me. Why would someone choose to visit a foreign country for no apparent reason? He must have read the confusion on my face.
This woman is very different from me. She does not understand my Samana ways, Siddhartha assumed. “I am here on a journey to learn about myself, not about America. Can you take me to a place that I can be alone?” He asked me. I assured him I would find a great place to spend time alone and stared at my map. I smiled when I found what I was looking for and circled one of the most peaceful places I could think of in red ink: Moosehead, Maine.
While we were in Moosehead, Siddhartha and I stayed in a small cabin in the woods that over-looked the Atlantic Ocean. We were surrounded by miles of desolate forest, and if you peered down over the cliff you would see gigantic channels of rock with waves crashing between them. The smell of sweet sap from pine trees that seemed to grow miles above us mixed with fresh air and overloaded our senses. Siddhartha would walk down to the vast, salty ocean and march into the water up to his knees, then swiftly reach down and grab a fish with a surprising calmness. He would catch one fish each day and ration it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Although I was his tour guide, Siddhartha seemed to make his own decisions on where to go and what to do.
One day in Maine, Siddhartha and I went on a hike. A few miles in he suddenly stopped in front of a giant tree with thick, bumpy roots that spread out on every side of it. He slumped down at the base of the massive tree and closed his eyes. I sat on a large rock opposite him in silence and watched Siddhartha, astonished at how content he was with being so alone. Siddhartha had slipped into a kind of trance that deeply connected him to the world.
I have finally benefitted from America. I am in the exact right spot on this continuous journey I am travelling on, decided Siddhartha. In that moment, he felt so serene; so deep in meditation. He reflected on being back home in India, and of a conversation he once had with his dear old friend Govinda. Siddhartha remembered trying to get Govinda to understand his lifestyle. He remembered telling Govinda that he, himself, was not going anywhere, but was on a continuous pilgrimage to find the way (93).
It is so wonderful to hear myself again. Hearing this internal voice reassures me that I am still on the way, Siddhartha cried joyously in his head. Being under this tree allowed him to connect with his true self. Oh, Atman! This is finally a time when I have felt genuine happiness. Siddhartha thought back to when he was a just a boy amongst the Brahmins, when he left home to find the Perfect One and live as a Samana, and when he left the ascetics for the pure unknown. These were the only other times he experienced pure joy. These times, and now. “Onwards, onwards, this is your path,” (83) thought Siddhartha.
When he awakened, Siddhartha seemed so full of bliss. He was finally smiling. This was the first time I had seen Siddhartha smile. That night, Siddhartha told me he wanted to now visit a place of pure excitement. He wanted to move to a new location that would match his new feelings. I decided it was time to visit the Jersey Shore.
Siddhartha kept his pleasant look the entire ride to New Jersey. This look became even more intense when the sights of Jersey took him over. There were taxis everywhere, and extremely different people than what Siddhartha was used to, which enticed him. You could hear the rush of the ocean, music in the distance from the bars that cluttered the strip, and laughter everywhere. Siddhartha and I would walk down the boardwalk, and his head would almost spin off of his shoulders when he saw something that excited him.
That same night, Siddhartha demanded that we leave the hotel and explore the city. As he oiler his hair in the hotel mirror, he asked me if I knew of any places he could play dice at. When I did not know the answer to this question, Siddhartha got slightly disappointed. How can a tour guide not know such things, Siddhartha thought. I observed that his whole demeanor began to change. He took out some fancy black and red shoes from his bag and slipped them on, then quickly walked out of the hotel. Siddhartha then immediately entered a nearby night club, and I followed.
I felt a nervous feeling as I watched Siddhartha in the club. It certainly was a Situation. He immediately walked to the bar area where many people were standing. I could barely see Siddhartha because of the flashing rainbow lights, but it seemed as if he took to what everyone else was doing, because he ordered a drink. Siddhartha started dancing with every girl he could find, and he began to drink alcohol excessively. His eyes locked onto a dark-haired girl who was dancing out on the floor and then his mind began to race.
Who is this woman? Siddhartha asked himself. I need her company. The woman’s beauty was astonishing and he loved the way she moved to the music. She reminded him of someone. She reminded him of Kamala. Siddhartha thought about Kamala and the way he used to desire her so strongly. He thought about how tempting Kamala was; her sweet, clever face, dark eyes, and her bright red mouth like a freshly cut fig (51). Siddhartha approached the woman.
“Hello, I am Siddhartha. May I keep you company?” Siddhartha said politely
The girl looked at her friends and laughed, which made Siddhartha upset.
“I would love to keep you company. I can recite you poetry, and I am a great lover. I have learned a lot over many years,” Siddhartha said to the woman again. “What is your name?”
The girl looked very uneasy and I noticed that one of her friends went to get the bouncer. He came over to Siddhartha and removed him from the club. Siddhartha had a completely confused face on that I could not completely read. I followed him out of the club, but he just sat on the curb with his head in his hands.
How must I let these feelings take me over, thought Siddhartha. He grew angry with himself for committing such sins! This place does not remind me of the India that I love. It reminds me of times in my life where I was at my lowest. I have let my desires get the best of me. They have lead me to spending my time here worthlessly, though Siddhartha as he scolded himself. He thought of the silly pleasure garden he used to own in India, and of his stupid shoes and perfumed hair. He was nauseated with himself, and had a flashback to when he wanted to rid himself of all of these habits of a completely senseless life (82). Siddhartha felt great sadness at that moment, and even though he was drunk, he shook himself back to reality.
Siddhartha stood up from the side of the street and walked over to where I was now sitting on a nearby bench waiting for him. It looked as if he was completely dead inside. He stared into my eyes and I almost felt his pain. He then begged me to bring him straight back to Moosehead, Maine.
Being Siddhartha’s tour guide in America made me learn the same things that Siddhartha had probably learned in America. The tranquil environment in Maine suited Siddhartha a lot better than the lavish environment at the Jersey Shore did. It was very clear that the two different lifestyles Siddhartha explored affected him in different ways. Being able to stay true to himself in Maine, and find his inner voice was a positive experience for him. He was able to feel alone, but in a good way. He heard the great sound of his atman speak to him, which only happened because he was able to connect with himself on a spiritual level. Contrastingly, Jersey had a negative effect on Siddhartha. Although he had fun sight-seeing and people-watching, and even at the club when he danced and had fun, the experience as a whole made him think of how he used to let his desires keep him from having goals. He became full of death and depressing thoughts, and he lost his peaceful manner.
Without a doubt, America had a profound effect on Siddhartha. This trip brought forth many personality changes within him. He first arrived as a kind of student, ready to learn and discover. He then found peace within himself and knew he had to keep pushing forward in life. He ended up becoming a sinner, which led him to having a miserable night full of sins. He finally ended up realizing which of the changes he had gone through brought out the best in him. Being in Maine pushed Siddhartha forward on his journey, while being in Jersey held him back. The lifestyle he lived in peace much better suited him than the lifestyle he lived in turmoil.
