“You are Siddhartha!” exclaimed Govinda out loud. “Now I recognise you, and I cannot understand why I did not recognise immediately. Welcome, Siddhartha, it is a great joy for me to see you again.”
“And it is a great joy for me too to see you. It was you who watched over me as I slept, and I thank you again for it, although I had no need of anyone to do so. Where are you going, my friend?”
“I am not going anywhere. We monks are always travelling, except in the rainy season, we always move from place to place, we live according to our rules, we spread out teachings, accept alms and then we move on. It is always so. But you, Siddhartha, where are you going?”
Siddhartha said, “It is the same with me as with you, my friend. I am not going anywhere. I am simply travelling. I am on a pilgrimage.”
Govinda said, “You say you are on a pilgrimage, and I believe you. But, Siddhartha forgive me, you do not look like a pilgrim. You wear the clothes of a rich man, you wear the shoes of a man of elegance, your hair smells of scented water and it is not the hair of a pilgrim, not the hair of a samana.”
“Yes, my friend, well observed, your sharp eye sees everything. But I did not tell you I am a samana. I said I am on a pilgrimage, and that is what I am, on a pilgrimage.”
“You are on a pilgrimage,” said Govinda. “I have been going on pilgrimage for many years, but I have never come across a pilgrim like this. There are not many who go on pilgrimage in clothes like this, or in shoes like this or with hair like this.”
“I believe you, my friend. But now, today, you have just a pilgrim like this, in shoes like this, with clothes like this. Remember this, my friend: The world of forms is transitory, our clothes are highly transitory, just like the way we have our hair and the hair itself and our bodies themselves. I am wearing the clothes of a rich man, you are quite right about what you have seen. I am wearing them because I was a rich man, and my hair is like the hair of a libertine or men of the world, because I was a libertine and a man of the world.”
“And now, Siddhartha, what are you now?”
“I do not know, I do not know it any more than you do. I am on a journey. I was a rich man and now I am not; and nor do I know what I will be tomorrow.”