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Siddhartha A Play by Victor Segalen Translated by Isabelle (Gros) Cata 2

SUDDHODANA...... Raja of the Sakyas. SIDDHARTHA...... his new-born son. CHOKRA...... Suddhodana’s chariot driver, father of Channa, also a new- born. ASCETIC...... a solitary in the jungle. MAYA-DEVI...... mother of Siddhartha. VILLAGERS...... arriving unexpectedly from the Sakya clan. Fair-skinned and noble looking.

Prologue

Ancient India, at the foot of the Himalayas. The gardens of Lumbini near Kapilavastu, city of the Sakyas— a flowering and festive garden. • • •

SUDDHODANA (looking at his son who is sleeping in a cradle decorated with flowers) He has been sleeping like this for four days! MAHA-DEVI (completely pale, leaning in) He will never open his eyes…never! SUDDHODANA It is some kind of curse. MAHA-DEVI I am going to try once more to make him open his eyes…could he be blind? SUDDHODANA No…he is too beautiful and too strong for that. Relax. Do not cry as you have been since his birth. You have been crying for seven days! MAHA-DEVI I shall never see his eyes! Siddhartha! My Siddhartha! SUDDHODANA If there was one person who could tell me… CHOKRA Yet, what an admirable child. My own son is not as beautiful…he screams, he squirms and he stares at all the faces around him. SUDDHODANA I have done every possible conjuration. I have no will left. I do not know what all this can signify. CHOKRA I know of only one man in the world who could tell us… SUDDHODANA Where is he? CHOKRA We have already seen him this morning. He came even earlier than your villagers and your friends. He was asking to examine your son’s body, in order to read the signs that accompany a child at birth. SUDDHODANA Oh! Let him come! Oh! Go and beg him to come. (CHOKRA disappears) SUDDHODANA (to the disconcerted CROWD) Ah! My villagers! My friends! All my poor friends! I was going to meet you again in our joyous city, a whole other festive city inside my heart. I was bringing my son to you as the most beautiful present of good omens, and as the most marvelous blessing…and now my return is attended by an incomprehensible presage. All my happiness is broken on these small eyelids which do not want to open. See…my son does not wake. MAHA-DEVI Ha! Ha! I think he just batted his eyelashes. 3

SUDDHODANA (looking hastily) They blink no more…(to the VILLAGERS)…but you have come to meet me. You have even preceded the departure of my sad messengers. I offer you an almost joyful thank you. However, your impatience, your salutations and all your jubilation are no more than a heavier coat for my grief. So, one last time, can no one among you explain to me… (A silence. CHOKRA enters, bringing a hundred year-old ASCETIC—skinny, haughty, of indomitable appearance. The villagers display great vexation). SUDDHODANA (to the ASCETIC) I bow to you as one bows to a master…see my son…see…he has not opened his eyes. Nevertheless, he breathes so peacefully. CHOKRA (pointing to the ASCETIC) He must know. He was watching the stars the moment your son was born. SUDDHODANA What can be done to wake him? Is it a bad omen? (The ASCETIC shakes his head). SUDDHODANA So, he is not blind? I am going to try again to awaken him, in front of you…come, let us lean over him… ASCETIC Do not wake him. SUDDHODANA Why not? If I can? ASCETIC Do not wake him. He is spoken of in the course of the planets: he will be lord of the world and king of the four kingdoms… SUDDHODANA Oh! I do not ask… ASCETIC …as long as he never sees—even with the eyes of a child—the Three Terrors… SUDDHODANA He will not. I shall keep watch. ASCETIC …an Old Man…a Sick Man…a Dead Man. SUDDHODANA An old man! A sick man! A dead man! How can all this be hidden from him? MAYA-DEVI (a slight scream) This time, I am sure he blinked… SUDDHODANA No… do not move… do not speak…(to the ASCETIC) and if he sees these sights? ASCETIC He will flee. SUDDHODANA Where? ASCETIC Into the forest. SUDDHODANA Oh! The tortures…my son! Let him stay blind, then… and close to me! MAYA-DEVI He is awakening! SUDDHODANA No! Maya, cradle him again… so he will wake no further… it seems to me that his forehead is tense as if he has already seen… an old man! A sick… (Suddenly staring at the ASCETIC)…You! You are old! I bow to you as one bows to a master… all my gratitude I spread around you. But, I beg you, if he is going to see you… do not stay here. Chokra, tell him to leave… ASCETIC I am leaving. Because your son is marked by astonishing signs—the most astonishing signs I have ever discerned on the son of a man! (He turns away. Looking at the old VILLAGERS. Harshly:) They are old too. (He strides along and disappears). SUDDHODANA It is true… they are old… they must also leave! VILLAGERS (murmuring) -Oh! He believes the old madman! 4

-He sends us away just like that…without accepting our welcome-gifts for the birth! -Without introducing the new-born to us! -Without letting us do the proper gestures! -He believes the old madman. -Has grief driven him crazy? SUDDHODANA I beg you… leave... leave, all of you! However, you there—you are not very old. You could perhaps stay near… at least for a year… or so… VILLAGERS (murmuring) Then, you are chasing us away! SUDDHODANA No! I beg you, my hands together, not to add to my grief… my grief today… for perhaps, a little later, we shall be able to discuss reasonably the value and the authority of the presage… MAYA-DEVI He turned his head a little…I think he is going… SUDDHODANA Oh! I wished so much that he would awaken, and now that I feel his gaze shines and lives, I have an insane desire to push down against these eyelids with all my strength… what can I do! He is going to see them… cradle him, Maya, so he does not see them! (The old VILLAGERS leave spitefully, murmuring and pointing at Souddhodana) VILLAGERS -He will grow old himself one day. -He has aged seven years in seven days! -Tell him—he would not believe it. -We should pity him. -He might change his feelings. -But that would not change what must happen. SUDDHODANA What are they saying as they leave? CHOKRA That you might change your feelings… SUDDHODANA Then I shall no longer be the father of my Siddhartha, and I will happily be thrown to the dogs and the jackals! CHOKRA …and that you yourself will grow old… SUDDHODANA Me? I am feeling a hundred years younger, now that I know… CHOKRA …but that what must happen will not change. And I believe it too. SUDDHODANA You will see! First, did they all leave? All of them? O the joyous, smiling faces! O the beautiful young men! What delights for my eyes which have cried so…and soon, soon, what delights for his, which will not know how to cry, because the heavy rains that drown the eyes of men will not wet them! CHOKRA (to himself) Tears come from inside. SUDDHODANA (to MAYA) Let him awaken now, for there is no one around him but the youthful and robust…these gardens—as I see them today, it is the only time I have ever enjoyed looking at them. My son is going to unseal his eyes within sight of their splendor and in the cradle of their blossoming! Is it not true, Maya, that the trees have never blossomed before? (suddenly disconcerted) Maya! Maya! You are pale! You are thinner! You are completely pale… and hunched over… your mouth is tense… you have trails of tears on your cheeks… it is no longer your true face… MAYA-DEVI I am weary… weary… enough to die. But it does not matter. Here, he has lifted his eyelids a little. He is going to see. 5

SUDDHODANA He is going to see? He would see you. You have heard: an old man, a sick man…you are sick Maya! MAYA-DEVI It is true… I must look frightful. (a silence) Then… SUDDHODANA You have to… MAYA-DEVI Yes…(she stands up, unsteady) SOUDDHODANA You will be cured quickly. MAYA-DEVI I would have liked so much… SUDDHODANA I will tell you about his first sight. MAYA-DEVI And if… and if I am leaving to die? SUDDHODANA Then be careful that he does not see you! MAYA-DEVI And if I die? Let me caress him, just with my finger tips… SUDDHODANA He almost looked up… leave quickly… MAYA-DEVI …with just my finger tips… SUDDHODANA Go away… Oh! He is opening his eyes! (MAYA-DEVI steps back, lets out a scream and falls. She is surrounded by attention) SUDDHODANA Take her away… quickly… No! He has not seen anything! Oh! Astonishing eyes! Oh! Eyes more vast than a dark pond in the night… Oh! Eyes that will see only youth and joy, skies and marvels! Chokra ! Come and see these eyes! (CHOKRA comes near, and shakes his head. A silence) SUDDHODANA Eh? You are afraid of something. Did he catch a glimpse of his mother before she was taken away? Oh! CHOKRA I do not think so. SUDDHODANA Then, why aren’t you more confident? CHOKRA You hope to keep him from seeing the suffering around him? SUDDHODANA Certainly! CHOKRA And what about the suffering deep inside him? (They remain pensive). 6

SIDDHARTHA GOTAMA.....of the Sakya clan. He is the son of Suddhodana, raja of the Sakyas and chief at Kapilavastu. He is twenty-nine years old. He has been living in the city. CHANNA...... his chariot driver. KRISHNA GOTAMI...... his cousin. Barely a child. A CROWD...... including: an OLD MAN, a SICK MAN, a DEAD MAN, four DISCIPLES, VILLAGERS of the Sakya clan, MERCHANTS and SLAVES.

ACT I

Ancient India, between the Ganges and the Himalayas. First Night. The foot of the ramparts of Kapilavastu. • • •

(A commotion. Someone is brutally or rather, despairingly, shaking an intransigent barrier bound with wood and bronze shackles. The CURTAIN FLIES UP brusquely. The commotion intensifies. An enormous door which encloses a high wall on the left sways and resounds with urgent blows. On the other side, some people look fearfully at this furiously shaking door. The commotion behind it increases. The iron straps break, lashing against the snapping door panels. It opens. In the darker, uncovered porch we see:) SIDDHARTHA Ah! I broke the chains! Why then, should I not have broken through the walls? Why not just break through them? (He takes a step forward and hesitates before going down the short ramp leading to a bridge over the ditch. He looks around curiously in the dwindling daylight). There are men and things outside my city! The world does not end with these walls…Oh! I knew it! I knew I had not seen… (The walls of the city break up the plain and obscure his view. Before him, the ground is flat and yellow. The people who were watching the rumbling door stare at him now. He is young and very beautiful: fair-skinned with shining, untangled hair. His eyes, younger than his face, open with surprise toward the crowd—who return more surprised looks—for no one has ever seen him outside the city). SIDDHARTHA (repeating) There are men outside my city! Here are some people moving about! (Stamping his feet on the resonant bridge, then on the heavier ground). And here is another, more firm ground which carries and leads me…to what end? (A group of people approach). Eh! You! You there, who are you? (He is shouting to a group of MERCHANTS who speedily cover their stall, pack up and slip away…) They are leaving! They are leaving! (He turns around and catches a glimpse of some naked men, dark and ugly. These are the unclean Poukkousas, and the Chandalas—even more vile—who work for money. There are even some vagrants among them who infest the rice fields and wonder all night long, mixing with the herds of jackals and dogs). SIDDHARTHA And you others? (discerning them) Oh! They are naked, black and ugly! I did not suspect such beings among men… (He turns away from them, nauseated. 7

The vagrants have disappeared like vermin into the folds of the earth and the ditches of the ramparts. SIDDHARTHA watches some people walk toward a lower door, further away, which pierces the wall). However, here are others still…and not that different from my regular friends. But…these are my companions…they are the villagers of my city! (He recognizes some fair-skinned men of proud countenance: chief hordemen clothed in lambskins, plowmen, cart drivers, bowmen, watchmen and guards. He moves forward, more confident. But the villagers, having recognized him, move back like the others in front of him. Disconcerted whispers run through the group:) CROWD -The prince went out! -Who let the prince leave! -Oh! Old Souddhodana will not forgive the doorman. -Where is the doorman who let the prince out? -At the celebration, like all the guards! Like everybody else! At the celebration… like everyone... at the celebration! -The prince left the celebration. He is not like the others… -He has always been peculiar. -But then, there is the raja’s vow! -Which vow? -What a life, the prince’s…always confined to the city… what a life! But the city is as pleasant as a hunting ground… and a much better setting for love! You do not imagine what it contains: meadows, palaces—three of them, for the three seasons—a little mountain, thousands of altars, even pastures. There is an army, chariots, women, all sorts of games. It was better for the prince to be kept there always… -Apparently, otherwise, he was destined for the jungle, where they torture themselves… -Destined… by whom? -Signs at birth… or at least, by a dream of Old Suddhodana’s. But who knows. -Who knows… (While SIDDAHRTHA seeks, from one to another, an answer for the things and beings around him, the last of the merchants and vagabonds have disappeared behind him. He is alone. In place of the crowd, a red dust perpetually rises from the ground and then falls again. The sun, low and just as red, seems assailed by this terrestrial breath which dries-out its last streams of light. On the right, a dense grove of trees is tarnished and speckled by this dust-haze. Foliage shrivels. The entire sky is dreary and a reflection of the ground’s torpidity. The double ditch is empty and nauseating to look at. Some dogs, their tongues hanging out, furtively slip under the ramparts by the molded arches of the dry sewers). SIDDHARTHA They did not want to answer me… they ran away like thieves! Thieves… I was told the jungle was full of them. But I’ve found even worse: these men are ugly! Yet, I have known ugliness and I did not think it repulsive. But these people—even with beautiful forms—would disgust me. (He wanders off in a pensive and dream-like state, at last finding himself at the grove. He considers the plain where dust whirls, the dry trees and the red sky). I am thirsty! But only for drink? Nobody ever taught me… no matter. When I return, I shall certainly know! (He turns 8

and, leaning against a tree, looks back at the city). My city! I’d not seen your face… the one that the least of these people gaze upon. I was so completely surrounded by you that I ignored everything about your face and your stature… but here are those pleasant sights. (Behind the brick wall, crowned with wood towers, the ground that rises up hoists the city with it, where reddish-brown roofs and flowered terraces are erected in layers. Most of the buildings have cleverly fashioned cedar partitions, and taught banderoles unfurl from their roofs, their bright colors flapping. Large palms— barely swayed by the rising, feverish air—occasionally sizzle over the carapace of the dry tiles. Looking up, the view ascends an aerial staircase. A dazzling palace dominates. SIDDHARTHA recognizes it: it is his dwelling place until the arrival of the monsoon. The palace is made of fresh white stone and similar—some say—to the dwelling places that soar in the divine spheres where the devas glide. The seventh floor of the seven-floor tower springs up from the high firmament above all the men’s houses. A small wisp of smoke—which will become a flame at nightfall—puffs out of it like a breath. It is the fluid, moving body of the terrestrial AGNI. Farther still, and higher, the mountain meets other mountains that are known to leap beyond all human vision, beyond any other mountain, toward the incredible snowy peaks of the Himalayas. Women’ songs, sprinkled with shrill sounds, are dulled by the thick walls. SIDDHARTHA, having composed himself, listens warily). SIDDHARTHA Such joy coming out of the city! Such joy! It is with the same joy that they let me come out… since they have been waiting for the birth of this child, I have felt their unbearable ties of affection loosen… I am less of a prisoner! But the child, what will he be? And what will become of everything? (The city continues to hum with a celebratory buzz). …here are my anguished feelings! Here are my old companions at day’s end! Oh! The serpent I nourish deep within… everything excites it… what I see and what I guess… what I know… what I feel… and it drools venom over the ideas of my soul… my ideas are fascinated by the serpent! They dance around it. They bite me just like it does… Oh! Yet, I am happy. I was told so many times in so many different rhythms, and to the sounds of musical instruments. It must be so! I am happy. Happy! (He repeats these words with an obstinate elation and, tired as if under a great weight, he sits on the tree roots to the right and dreams inward, both fists clenched in his mouth. Night is finished. A glimmer of light splashes over his knees. He shudders and lifts his head. A torch bursts through the blackness of the great doorway to the city. A MAN, holding up this torch, appears to be looking hastily for someone. He descends and crosses the bridge, searching through the darkness, and discovers SIDDHARTHA). CHANNA At last! They are asking for you! Your father is lamenting! But he does not know yet… myself, I was looking for you with little hope of finding you so quickly. What are you thinking about? Are you running away when your child is going to be born? SIDDHARTHA (with a gesture of indifference) Yes… CHANNA You know it is customary for the father to be the first one to give a good name to his child. But nobody knows about your adventure here… and we shall arrive in time I hope! (SIDDHARTHA makes another indecisive gesture. However, he gets up with great weariness and, preceded by CHANNA who hurries him, regretfully heads for the city. 9

When they are about to cross the first of the bridges, an OLD MAN emerges, begging, from the ditch. He grabs SIDDHARTHA’S blue, silver-fringed dress and repeats a chant, crying all the while). SIDDHARTHA (startled) Ho! What is this? (He stops). CHANNA Nothing. An old beggar. Come on. SIDDHARTHA (remaining still) How skinny and stooped he is! His chest looks like a dark animal skin stretched over a trellis of dry bamboo. Tell me, why are you so skinny and stooped like that? OLD MAN I’ve seen eighty rainy seasons and four generations. In olden days, like you, I was young, vigorous and beautiful… but give me something, so I will not fall asleep with an empty stomach. I am hungry… SIDDHARTHA What did he say? He does not speak like people in the city… perhaps because his mouth is all nicked ? Or because he is of a different race… he is dark… CHANNA Not at all! He is a Sakya. SIDDHARTHA Like me! But why does he complain of hunger? Let him eat quickly! And this ugliness… why so ugly if you claim he is of my race? CHANNA Because he is old… let’s go. Let’s go… (He takes a step toward the door. SIDDHARTHA, who has not moved, calls him back). SIDDHARTHA Because he is old? You talk nonsense Channa! Age is a noble thing… this I know well. It was taught to me over and over. Remember what we sing about it: “The old man with clear eyes and the venerable presence…” and the other songs! It is all so beautiful. But this one is not beautiful…is it normal for people near the city to dry out like that? CHANNA Even people in the city. SIDDHARTHA And the sons of kings? Kings themselves? CHANNA Even them. Come then, Gautama… yes, it is normal—and necessary… come on now. SIDDHARTHA For all? For everyone? CHANNA I just told you… Perhaps, I said too much... SIDDHARTHA So, I will age too? I will be this old? (He points to the OLD MAN) And broken? And expressionless, without hair? An empty jaw, a hideous body! CHANNA Oh! You still have so many young years before you! SIDDARTHA But I no longer want them if they only drag me toward this misery. I no longer want them if they must all be poisoned—one by one—by fear and disgust! CHANNA Come… (SIDDARTHA is about to follow him when a groaning diverts his attention. SIDDARTHA stops again and listens—it is emanating from a deeper shadow. He walks toward this groaning. CHANNA follows him regretfully. We see a SICK MAN who totters with each step, for his limbs are trembling with fever. The sick Old Man is panting and lamenting). OLD MAN Ha! Help me! Ha! My chest! Ha! SIDDARTHA This one is not ugly to look at; and yet, one would think him even more unhappy… CHANNA He is suffering. SIDDARTHA Yes! “Suffering elevates the sage…” and it is in this way one attains superior powers. But why not savor one’s suffering by keeping a still face? This one 10

is not a sage, but then, he does not have the clothes of one. So Channa, why does he make himself suffer? CHANNA He bears his sorrow without power to escape it. Such a sick man. The four elements in his body are mixed together and fighting one another. SIDDARTHA What, then—there are pains of the flesh that cannot be tamed and cannot be overcome? What purpose do they serve? CHANNA I do not know. Come… SIDDHARTHA I ignored this purposeless pain, this ugly, ludicrous pain! But perhaps this is their cause: the devas are punishing this man for some sacrilege… do you know him? CHANNA He is a villager of the Sakya clan. He is, like us, fair-skinned and well-bred. He is loved by his parents and he has always honored the devas as it should be done. SIDDHARTHA And yet he is suffering… perhaps, because of ill deeds in another life? But who will ever know? And tell me, did he expect what has happened to him…no? (more hurriedly) Oh! This which knocks one down and makes one cry out… this which grips one from behind without the benefit of a higher virtue! This that gnaws and destroys… I am afraid! Oh! I am afraid! (A silence) And tell me Channa, why my ignorance, me—who knew everything? Neither my teachers nor my city taught me anything about these things… CHANNA (hesitating) Now that you have seen them—despite the efforts of your father and all of us—it can be told: an ascetic had predicted your disgust at seeing them… your fright… and told still other stories… that you would immediately flee your family… your father believed he did the right thing in protecting you. At last, your child is going to be born and people will breathe! For I think this casts away all fears! (SIDDHARTHA only listens absent-mindedly. He looks at the ground. In the distance, a slow PROCESSION passes. CHANNA guesses what it is, and violently tries to take the prince away). CHANNA That is it! That’s everything! This time you know everything and you have seen everything. I beg you, return to town… they are still looking for you. They are waiting for you! SIDDHARTHA What are you hiding from me? (looking around) …a new form of knowledge, isn’t it? New to me—who knew everything. Let’s look, Channa! (Not discerning anything in the dark, he grabs the torch that CHANNA was refusing to give him. A brief struggle. SIDDHARTHA walks toward the procession. Surprised, the PROCESSION stops. They are carrying a dead man of vulgar breeding, who they are going to dump unceremoniously in the crow fields. The dead man’s dull face is naked, and grimaces Aunder the torch. His eyes are lost in the black sky. SIDDHARTHA looks at these eyes. A long silence). SIDDHARTHA (apparently without fright) This one who is not old, and who does not suffer, and who does not move his eyes, and who does not even breathe… I recognize him, despite my family. He is a dead man. My father’s father—whom I also saw despite our servants’ efforts—seemed beautiful to me, with wives singing around him and special flowers which smelled like perfume. There is no perfume this time… I do not see any beautiful wives. Before, there were noble and rhythmical speeches with serious words that rang like the sound of a consecrated bell: “The mortal went under the meadow… a path given to us by Yama the black monarch, and the first among 11

men to die…” I thought this departure was long and sweet like a procession… and sinuous like the body of the king of serpents-Nagas… with songs… with women… with flowers. (faster) This is not only gloomy but dreadful. This meadow peopled with sleeping living beings, I see it swarming with corpses… no! This one… and those…they are not going to the meadow… they are going…(his eyes follow the procession which has resumed its route)… to the rotting fields… where big black birds—I saw them from the tops of my terraces—and without a doubt Channa, you are going to tell me that this corpse is not the only one in the world… that he was a just man! Loved by his family! Respectful of the devas! That this is what awaits us all. The crow fields. For the poor, and for the flame of the Kshatriyas. And other births… and other similar lives… thousands of disgusting existences! (A while). Are you happy? CHANNA (brusquely) Yes, I am! I am well treated at your house… I am— SIDDHARTHA And the other men… are they as happy as you? CHANNA I think so. But what is the matter with you tonight? (looking at his anguished face) Oh! Terrible things are taking place behind this face… was the old ascetic right? Yes! I am perfectly happy. And you—you are not to be pitied. (hastily) First, you come from noble, fair-skinned parents. Your tribe has dealings with kings. The Sakyas are the first men of the world. (playfully) You know that the despot of Kosala was asking, among his wives, for a girl from your city. They sent him the daughter of a slave… he was furious! And then, think of Yasodhara… and of the other women who do nothing but wait for your desire. There are some well-named, well-shaped women, neither talkative nor swarthy, with skin soft to touch and still other things! Better still, you can have them, like the first one at the archery tournament. I was there when you shot your arrow as high as the mountain! And I danced with joy when I saw you break the bow, laughing. You are strong! You are beautiful and fair- skinned… you are going to be a father—believe me Gotama, you are happy! SIDDHARTHA (bitterly) Yes… be quiet. And you can, all of you, carry on your small daily lives among what I have just seen? You can laugh without thinking of all those who are sobbing? You can fall asleep without spying on your heart to see if it is going to stop beating, or on your mind to see if it is still thinking? All this does not astonish you? You can bear your children joyfully? All this does not leave you stunned… ready to flee I don’t know where? CHANNA But all this is… life. SIDDHARTHA (bursting out) Life? Then shame to the life we weave with these terrors. Shame to youth that walks without exclaiming indignation at decrepitude! Shame to strength which drops dead from exhaustion! Shame to desire which does not know how to last and turns to disgust and disgrace. Shame to beauty, since I have seen ugliness today… shame to lovers who seek beauty… who nourish desire… who perpetuate lives like ours… like ours! This son, whose birth they await—oh! He will be destined to live, like me, terrified of his very being! All this among a torrent of millions of births… for millions of years yet to come! And I will have helped him be born. Ha! Shame on me! On me… on me! (He lets himself fall, overwhelmed, at the foot of a large tree. The torch crashes down and is extinguished. The indefinite murmur spreads incessantly beyond the walls, enveloped in more formal sonorities. The most noticeable sound is the metallic 12

jingling of bells and silver cymbals, followed by the bare voices of young maidens and finally light breaths of harps and whistles of soft flutes). CHANNA Listen… listen… it seems the child’s welcome procession is looking for you… they are coming to get you… (The muffled tumult of a marching CROWD rolls closer. The deep rambling is nourished by the mixing of men’s voices with the beating of bronze drums and brief calls from conchs. The sound of feet trampling over floors resounds. At the same time, pink lights encircle the walls and flames crackle. The painted banderoles seem to jump out of the night in the glow, which splashes up onto the gleaming roofs where it is extinguished. Perfumes dance in the luminous mist. Hordes of jackals and dogs emerge from the sewers, hurried by the hordes of humans on the other side of the wall). CHANNA Here they are! Here they are! I beg you, Gotama, do not give us cause to despair when we are having a celebration in your honor… do not sadden all these people… do not steal this night of jubilation from them! They are looking for you. Smile at them. Celebrate a little… SIDDHARTHA You! Oh! You! You are cheerful when I am upset…your joys, and all this frenzy—ha! Ha! Ha! It was the last thing I expected… mockery after deceit! For twenty years they have been lying to me and duping me in there… and when I try to put an end to their deceit, and stir up my own sadness… here is my city exerting itself on me, so pleasant, like a troublesome dog… oh! Make them be quiet… down! Down! (Under the pressure of the CROWD, still invisible, the walls quiver in their high frameworks. The wood towers swing and the molding of the crenels undulates like the backbone of a fearsome, crouching beast. Screams of the celebration are heard. Amidst the roaring of the celebration, we can hear:) -He is beautiful and fair-skinned -Where is the prince, so that he may see his son? -He will have all the signs of the Sakyas! -He has all the lucky signs of the planets… -He is so beautiful and fair-skinned! CHANNA You see, they are looking for you all over town… they do not know you have run away… come quickly. You will join their troop… and then you will carry your sadness with vigor, you will shake it from your shoulders and it will disperse among so many joys. Come. (A silence between them). CHANNA (harshly) Come! Or else I will call them! I will show them the son of a Sakya crying like an old woman! (SIDDHARTHA gets back on his feet, his eyes distraught. He looks for a place where he can escape this joy that submerges him and chokes him. But the plain is empty—dark and unknown. He is afraid. He draws back toward a clump of large trees. CHANNA follows him, trying to hold him there. Though they have almost disappeared, we can still hear them quarreling. Then, suddenly, the door in the high wall reopens and the air is filled with the clear cry of a child:) 13

KRISHA No! No! Leave me alone… I will find him! (As if escaping people’s hands, she runs and descends the ramps). I know where he is… where are you? Where are you? I know you are hiding… Oh! Mean one! (The noise of the struggle ceases behind the trees. The voices grow quiet behind the walls. It seems we are waiting. KRISHA gropes around…) KRISHA I’m afraid. I’ve never been this far… everything is black…(calling aimlessly) Oh! I know you are there! You are hiding… do not go any further… or stay away any longer… do not play any more… SIDDHARTHA (in a low voice) Child! KRISHA (moving forward) Come quickly… or I will not come when you call me… I have learned to sing nice things for you. Come and listen to them. Listen…“The son is born—here is the delivered—the son is born—where is the husband…” SIDDHARTHA (startled) Delivered? Delivered? She has thrown out a prediction as clear as dawn… delivered of doubts and delivered of sorrows… she has sung as if through prophetic inspiration. (to KRISHA) Look no further. I have found myself through your voice… I am discovering myself all over again… Krisha! KRISHA Ha! I knew it! SIDDHARTHA (his face suddenly stronger) You knew better than the others. Thank you for your welcoming song. Thank you, my messenger! The pretty face after the ugliness of the night! The clear words after the disconcerting voices. (CHANNA has caught hold of the fallen torch which was slowly burning down. As he raises it, it begins to blaze). SIDDHARTHA Yes! Now, light! Light after the fear… KRISHA (indicating the city) But do not let them despair longer… come quickly… I sought you! I am any bringing you back! (toward the high walls, with a joyful cry) He is with me! (A great glow crowns the rooftops and the crenels vacillate under a rush of excited people. We see arms waving spears, torches, palm-leaves and fans. All the exhilaration, tempered by uncertainty, overflows and lights up the distant plains. A swelling commotion:) CROWD -Here is Gotama! -Why did he run away? -Why does he not come back? -She is with him! -Indeed, she knew how to find him! -Gotama! Gotama! SIDDARTHA Yes! Lights! Continue crying. I am found again—more so than they will ever imagine! CROWD What will you name him? SIDDARTHA Who? CROWD Your son. KRISHA What will you name your son? Tell me now so I may mix his name into all our songs of celebration. And so that these people may also sing. It will be a good omen. SIDDHARTHA (disconcerted) My son! It is true… a name for my son… a chain… (to the CROWD) 14

Shackle! Call him Shackle! KRISHA That name is not a good omen. Stop fooling around and don’t mock us… (but already the satisfied CROWD has seized the name and, racing down the walls into town, starts to call it out everywhere). SIDDHARTHA (walking slowly toward the door) A good omen? But it is you who has given it to me! What shall I give you in exchange? KRISHA Nothing! Nothing! Nothing at all…but you will let me march close to you in the procession? SIDDHARTHA Here, my necklace for your shoulders. KRISHA (surprised) Oh! Just what you would give to a wife you liked! SIDDHARTHA (dreaming) Better even! KRISHA As he would do for his nighttime wife! SIDDHARTHA It is a thank you for your message and its echo. But tell me, what were you singing? KRISHA I was saying…“The happy husband …” SIDDHARTHA No! Something else. KRISHA I was saying…“The blessed husband…” SIDDHARTHA No! No! Something else. KRISHA I was asking you the name of your son… SIDDHARTHA Not at all! You said something else… (leaning toward her, mysteriously) You said “delivered…” KRISHA (escaping) Ah! I don’t know anymore! But come…(she leads him) if you want, I will start again: “The son is born…here is the happy husband…” Does this please you, finally? SIDDHARTHA It is true! I am happy! (He looks beyond the wall one last time, at this town where joy will wear itself out. Reflections of its jubilation become great terrors on his face. CHANNA is already under the porch which his torch illuminates. KRISHA looks back. SIDDHARTHA slowly reaches the great doorway into of the city. With one last hopeful gesture, he goes through it).

CURTAIN.

(Having departed, SIDDHARTHA walks toward the city, accompanied by the noise and bustle of the CROWD. We can tell he has arrived on the other side of the wall, radiant, as we hear a new clamor burst forth. The sounds burst out over the walls and, rolling toward the plains, are lost in the voracious jungle—the jungle that eats the labors of men and seems to graze on the sounds of their shouts as well. The foot of the wall is now dark, the lights extinguished. We hear another echo: for added pomp, the procession is marching through the open markets of Santhagara. Their voices rebound off the resonant roofs. Then, all falls back into night and silence. We no longer see anything, on the ground or in the sky. The stillness is strangely tormenting. The plains, the jungle, the walls, the city and the mountain tops have all vanished in an obscurity that remains agonizing and thirsty. For days, all have been waiting to welcome the cooling monsoon. After a while, the thick black clouds seem 15 transparent. And despite the great silence which must be sleep—the sleep of all living beings—a few glowing lights finally shine through). 16

ACT II

• • •

(Some run to brush against the earth and scatter themselves over the ground—one might say they resemble greenish glowing corpses or luminescent animals. Others jump in the sky, creaking from one cloud to another. Puffs of wind creep by, stirring mixed smells of lotus, balms, musk and amber The stench of celebration is poured into the heavy air and all this doleful heaviness, once the joy is gone, weighs on the senses. The voluptuous city dozes. The AGNI on the tower (we can see it now, exhaling close on the right) casts only exhausted sparks. As it so happens, one can devine an ephemeral yet profound garden from the undefined luminosity, encircled by terraces and forms: trellises of white entablatures with decorated beams, glassy reflections on the alabaster columns, muted reflections on the woolly hangings, and moving reflections on the wide, dark ponds which multiply these anxious lights, doubling the sky’s luminosity in their mirrors. A BRIGHT FORM walks incessantly about). SIDDHARTHA The sky is boiling just like my head! This smoke galloping above…is it merely crossing the cloudy sky? I think my ideas swirl round as much as the clouds… my ideas—clouds! I chase them away…I blow on them…more come…always more…Ha! To see the empty, profound firmament without a spot! Without reflections in ponds, without wrinkles! And to feel at the same time my own tempest appeased… Thank you though, high sky. You portray my storms so well. You are tense when I am exasperated…you shake when I move about…you jump suddenly when I thrash around…and then you shine when I see more clearly inside myself. And far-off, is there not a splendid rip in your cloudy veil? For she sung “Delivered! Delivered!” This is my ray of sunshine! Thank you then sky, in which I am rediscovering myself! Thank you! Ha! Up there! Indra, who drives your herd of black cows…and all the thousands of gods in-between the valves of the world who struggle against the five great passions. (To the flame on the tower) Agni! Agni, your flame swells and burns ceaselessly…and always, ô Quivering, you demand other food! Vayu who roams the wind, your body palpitates…breath of the gods! Roaming without a form! You aspire perhaps, to stillness? Savitar, exciter of light! You are born, you grow old! You die! Passionate devas and gods of anguish: you cannot calm me…your terrors are my terrors. But rest assured—if ever I discover the peaceful paths—rest assured. I will teach them to you! (The ray of sunshine merges with the cloudy swells. Then SIDDHARTHA looks around). My city dozes like a woman exhausted from pleasure, one who has tangled hair and who lounges on a bed of crushed flowers…my city! My calm lover of past nights, you betrayed me to celebrate my son! (He nears the terraces, DOWN STAGE. The terraces access the women’s apartments). But here is your dying joy, and all it leaves behind. Bodies defiled by fatigue…swath of heavy sleepers! If they are dreaming now, it is of obscene visions or of horrible forms…(or rather, if their dreams are more amiable, awakening will only be more disappointing for them) and they will stretch, tomorrow, only to roll out dead desires and disgust from their great jubilation! And this is joy! Joy…did they see what I just saw? Have they ever seen it? An old man, a sick man, a dead man! If they see it and try to close their eyes afterward, what great remedy! (He sniggers. Along with the heavy breaths 17

of air which blow his hair, softer breaths of air glide past, caressing his face). Night! Heavy night! Blurry night! Night of hopeful anguish! It resounds relentlessly around me…she was singing “Delivered, delivered of chains…” perhaps of suffering? Mysteriously, when I repeat what she was singing—a child could understand it—it appeases me like the fresh breezes that pass by…is it the blue wind that pulls the monsoon behind it? The earth is still thirsty and so am I! (The doubtful light of the cloud-eaten moon combs the tumultuous branches of a large tree CENTER STAGE, suddenly revealing a dark, immobile form. SIDDHARTHA, startled, notices it). Ha! Here at last is something or somebody that does not stir in the wind…something that does not move…maybe something that does not suffer? (He gets closer). Oh! How was he allowed to enter the city? An ascetic…a motionless sage…I have not seen one yet! No, he does not move! This one is really more at peace than me—more than all the crazy devas! My father would resent me…however he seems so tranquil…so tranquil…so tranquil! An entire sky of tranquillity must reside within. (He gets closer) Hail, immobile sage! Have you been motionless like that for long? (A silence). Yes, I know! You have already come far and risen high in asceticism. Even speech is forbidden to you. However, I will ask you…great or small, here it is: you are calm. How did you become so calm? (A silence). I have been taught everything—except the path to self-pacification. You seem to know it. Could you not point it out to me with your finger, or with a glance…without speaking? (A silence). No. Do not say anything. Do not bat an eyelash. But let my thoughts bow next to yours and a little of your soul shine through me. (A contemplative silence) See! I sit next to you and wait…do you want me as your disciple? I choose you for my master…and I wait… (He sits next to the form). But first, what have you done, so I may accomplish it? What did you do first? I am guessing you abandoned everything…is that it? You fled the people around you…your wives, your children…is that right? Perhaps, like me, you met an old man, a sick man and a dead man! And you shuddered. Then you took refuge in silence and in the solitude of your soul. You did not acquire the Peaceful Powers in the city, but rather in the naked forest! Yes! You fled…yes…that is the truth, isn’t it? Then I will flee! You made renouncements? I will make renouncements…you are peaceful now…will I be so? O master, already you are teaching me. Already you have shown me roads…thank you! (He gets up with great exaltation then, coming back toward the form:) Master, who’s very silence and stillness has taught me, my respect turns round you three times…and I spread my hair in honor of your virtue. (The black coat, which he brushes against, unfolds. Eyes that are not those of a sage shine forth profoundly from a clear, moving face. Under a lull in the sky’s great clamor, an imploring voice, soft as the brushing of eyelashes, murmurs to him:) KRISHA Siddhartha! (He stands up, draws back a little. He recognizes KRISHA GOTAMI. A long silence). SIDDHARTHA (in a far-off tone, devoid of anger:) Bless you, KRISHA Gautami… Bless you for having guided my steps, in two ways, through the night. Thank you for the double omen. Silent, you have been enlightening. Immobile, you have supported my vacillating dreams. Henceforth they shall follow the calm paths. Ignorant, you have spread waves of wisdom better than the best of masters! So fragile, you were life and strength…conceived in my thoughts. Now I will live your wisdom and weave 18

your prophecy with the gestures of my body. I was chained up. You have delivered me. Bless you, Krisha Gotami! (The form moves back in a slow gesture, further drawing back the dark coat. The harmonious body of KRISHA shivers under the silky tunics. Silver bracelets jingle at her frail wrists). KRISHA Siddhartha! SIDDHARTHA You were waiting for me. You were looking for me. You were saying you’d found me. With your love, you desire me…and you will detest me…but even so, never has a nuptial spouse given me such elation! Krisha! Krisha! Here are triumphant nuptials, and awakening will not be disconcerting at all! (He keeps moving back, his eyes softly on her). Wife that I will not know, I desire you and I abandon you…your long hands, I love them and I untie them…your untouched hair, your lips ignored by mine, and your flesh unknown to my kisses—I love them and I push them away…I liberate myself, I untie myself, I desert you…(joyfully) Ha! I no longer love you! KRISHA (a desperate cry) Siddhartha! (Silence. Gloom. The dark coat falls. A white form flees). SIDDHARTHA Fallen, my last shackle! To the others! To the others! To the goal! To the goal! (In a muted voice, calling to the lower constructions surrounding the arcades:) Channa! Channa! (He takes up his tormented pacing. However, his step is more robust. He repeats:) To the goal! To the goal! All the shackles! All the chain- links to break! Channa! (CHANNA appears, surprised and slow, his eyes swollen with sleep). My horse! And my chariot! You will accompany me. CHANNA Which horse? SIDDHARTHA The most beautiful! The fastest! Karthaba with the golden hooves! You will braid his mane in two braids with great care…do you see that this night is a night of triumph for me? CHANNA Yes! Yes! I am delighted at your happiness. I told you: you are not to be pitied. But where do you want to go? Into the streets? Everything is dark! All are asleep! SIDDHARTHA Quickly! (CHANNA obeys. SIDDHARTHA, henceforth with even steps, climbs a squat stairway which leads to the Door of the Bedrooms. Without a sound, he pushes open one of the door panels and looks in. From deep inside the nuptial bedroom, smoke creeps out in dark and tired flakes, in heavy and weary curls. As he looks in, SIDDHARTHA'S face is lit by the breath of the large street lamps which will shortly die out, exhausted from having burned all night). SIDDHARTHA (in a low voice) She sleeps among flowers, on our bed, soft like a meadow! She sleeps! Naïve! Tomorrow you will rejoice at this event they call happy…you will rejoice at being a mother! And you will think you pulled your son out of nothingness, born for a life of joy that is hoped for, yet ignored. But me, I tell him to be born for suffering! To be born for old age, for death and other suffering! Born to make me suffer…“he who has sons delights in his sons?”—a lie! I will not rejoice! I will not let myself be taken in by this trap. Shackle, my son, Shackle, I remove you. And perhaps later, when I teach you what neither men nor devas can teach you, when I lead you down the calm path, perhaps you will then bless me for 19

this abandonment…rest at ease. If ever I reach the peaceful path, rest at ease— likewise to the turbulent gods, rest at ease—I will teach it to you! (He turns away. He hesitates. He comes back). I would have wanted to press you against my breast. Only once! But here it is: your mother has taken over your sleep. She surrounds you, even as she sleeps…and I would wake her…and my escape would be hastened by her uncomprehending cries! (A gust of wind passes, shaking the door and dashing into the quiet room where it blows out all the flames. SIDDHARTHA runs into the middle of the whirlwind). Ho! Ho! Sky, you are no longer my friend! You are no longer a mirror! Come, I am calm now! I am calm! (in an angry voice) And you are still moving about? And our pact? (tottering) Now here is the earth, also moving about…it rears up around me! What is jumping up and down on the ground? It is the earth jumping up and down! It is the earth jumping and crying…I hear sobs all around me…it is miserable listening to the ground cry—trees shouting…however (shouting) I am calm! I must be calm! I have renounced everything! (Suddenly, the tumult in the sky changes its voice. The wind dies. There is a quieting. Long anticipated breaths of air rise up. It is the welcome monsoon. It approaches. It arrives. It looms in triple beneficence). Oh! What do I feel on my head…it is raining! It is the refreshing monsoon! How dried-out my soul was. But here are fountains and springs in the skies…it is coming…it is coming…the raging, calming, blessed. Tranquillity is coming—the sky within the sky, the brightness within the light. Springs in the falling waters, thank you…! Night! Sweet night! Night of respite amidst anguish! Night that leads to dreaded dawn! Gleaming night! The dawn laughing in me…all I encompass and which penetrates me, and which I embrace… (In an enveloping gesture, he opens his arms to reach the humid, perfumed air and the contours of the clouds and all the sweetness that suddenly appears. (Dawn. CHANNA appears, completely outfitted) CHANNA (regretfully) Okay! But where are we going now? What is it that we are going to meet? SIDDHARTHA (truly serene until the end) Tell me! What do the naked men in the forest do— the ones who have abandoned everything? CHANNA What? Which men? SIDDHARTHA The Yogis in the jungle, by the villages… CHANNA There are only robbers in the jungle. SIDDHARTHA …the masters of torture and joy… CHANNA Who knows… SIDDHARTHA You and others…I have learned much between the two parts of this night. You shall lead me. CHANNA Lead you where? SIDDHARTHA Through the jungle, to the Yogis. CHANNA Ho! Think a moment. They are more horrible than everything you have just seen… SIDDARTHA Let’s go! CHANNA They are skinny. They are alone. They have neither wives nor children. Are they considered venerable? Sometimes. But that’s wrong. They’re crazy! SIDDARTHA Let’s go! 20

CHANNA And with no shelter either. They vegetate under the sky on the mire…in sun and rain. And you, you would leave your three palaces—one for every season—for that? SIDDARTHA My palaces? My palaces are burning. Are you going to keep me from going? CHANNA A raja’s son! You will rip all your fine clothes in the brushwood! SIDDHARTHA My necklaces? I strip myself of them! (He pops off his bracelets and his necklaces). CHANNA You will dirty all your limbs in the marsh! Your white skin, you will clothe it in mud! SIDDARTHA I will wear it. Look, here is my old tunic. An earth colored coat… (He grabs the coat KRISHA dropped while fleeing). CHANNA You will tangle your hair in the bushes! SIDDARTHA (grabbing a knife on CHANNA’s belt) I’ll cut my hair! CHANNA (stunned) Ho! Ho! Ho! What are you doing? What are you doing? SIDDHARTHA (radiant) I am liberating myself! Come! (He flees, pursued by CHANNA. Dawn).

ABRUPT CURTAIN. 21

ACT III

Second Night. • • •

(Silence. A LONE MAN, seated and motionless, clothed only in an earth-colored coat, assumes the Posture: legs tucked in and crossed, arms raised, palms forward. Around him, a dense, muddy jungle. Twilight has begun. The light is unsettled. A moment passes. The wide-open eyes of the ascetic do not blink. The taught fingers do not quiver. There is a stamping in the bushes. CHANNA appears, dressed like a disciple. He carries a small wooden bowl and walks reverently). CHANNA Master! Salute to the day which draws to a close! Do your eyes still see the fleeting day? Or perhaps your eyes are dried out by the terrestrial sun…your sage’s eyes lit by the true light! (A silence). Master, here is your food—the amount permitted by hunger…do not neglect it as you have the rest of the offerings since the moon died. Of course it is good to observe your fast by the course of the moon…but the moon reappeared four days ago. You are entitled to four mouthfuls of rice…here they are. (He sets the bowl on the master’s knees). And also, it does nothing to exceed what is required. Why must you out-do the others? Besides, the villagers will not know… (CHANNA approaches the ascetic, contemplating him. Suddenly:) CHANNA Ha! The master is… (Without turning from the forever-impassive face, he makes signs). Come, the rest of you! The master is in ecstasy! The master is starting to manifest the Powers! DISCIPLE The master is in ecstasy? DISCIPLES -The master has the Powers? -…in ecstasy? -…in ecstasy? SECOND DISCIPLE (appearing) A Saint! He is a Saint! He has traveled the two paths! THIRD DISCIPLE (appearing) A Saint! He is a Saint! He has overcome the flesh! He has defeated the great Passions! SECOND DISCIPLE He has overcome the flesh! His mind is astride his body and he no longer shakes with desire. CHANNA He was beautiful! He was strong! Here he is now, skinny and stripped of everything… OTHER VOICES A Saint! He is a Saint! He has traveled the two paths! (The FOURTH and FIFTH DISCIPLES arrive completely out of breath) CHANNA (emphatically) It is certain! He now possesses the twelve supernatural Powers! At his will, flowers will bloom! The lotus will spring up on its stem! Tigers will come to sniff him if he wants! If he wants, he will fly among the clouds…But also, what tortures and meditations! Six years of effort! Oh! I never left him! You cannot imagine what he did and suffered…even I would not have imagined…without doubt, he is a noble breed! But nothing forced him to leave his town and his parents so fast and so soon! Finally all is finished! All is surpassed! The sage is suffering 22

above! The goal has been attained! Siddhartha, the well-named! Siddhartha, who has attained his goal! DISCIPLES Siddhartha, who has attained his goal! CHANNA And we have a sage among us! The villagers will no longer hurl mockeries along with their charity! Impatient people! They assume one buys the Powers as a cattle chief buys his herds! DISCIPLE Yes! The villagers will be satisfied tomorrow! DISCIPLE Tomorrow? But we must call them right away! First, those from Uruvela who were the most generous… CHANNA All of them! They must all be called at the same time, all four corners of the sky! Also call the herd leaders and the harvesters…and the nomads in the forest…call the married people and the small children…also call the beasts of the jungle, by imitating their cry, so they will follow you and so the entire world of living, breathing beings will come and greet the solitary. The sounds of praise must fill the sky’s canopy! (The Four Disciples depart, each heading in one of the four directions. CHANNA, left alone with the master, bustles around him. First, he makes three turns around his body from left to right, uncovering his left shoulder in respect. Then, clutching flowers and branches, he spreads them around the ecstatic master, who is still motionless. He properly arranges the bowl and the folds in the coat). Ha! The crowd will understand that he is a master of importance! (Getting up, he glances at the face. Shuddering:) Ho! (The immobile one has just twitched. From the eyelids, trembles travel down through his cheeks to his arms, which bend in tiny jerks. CHANNA, taking a step back, is seized with astonishment. He sees the torso of the ascetic slouch toward the ground and prop up on the hand. The head bends forward too). SIDDHARTHA (imperceptibly) I am weary! CHANNA Oh! Master! You weakened! SIDDHARTHA I am weary! CHANNA It is a bad breath of air passing by. Do not be discouraged…resume the Posture, quickly… SIDDHARTHA I am so weary! CHANNA Come on! I told you: you exceeded what is required…but you cannot go back now. They think you are in ecstasy. You must not disappoint them! SIDDHARTHA Who? I am alone…I am weary! Who is still speaking to me? CHANNA Master! Master, who knew how to cast off everything! Cast off your fatigue as well! SIDDHARTHA My fatigue, Channa, will never be clear to you. CHANNA You, who has tamed everything and surmounted your lassitude! O Sage! Great Sage of the Sakya clan! Resume the pose of a sage! Resume the pose! SIDDHARTHA My wisdom! How could you imagine it? CHANNA I…I don’t know…but I imagine the immobile sages maintain the Posture, and that the Powers do not last long if stillness is not maintained. The other disciples are going to bring people back with them—what will they think of you? SIDDHARTHA Let them wonder…and come with me—I do not know where yet—but elsewhere. Outside myself! CHANNA No, you cannot give up… 23

DISCIPLES (far away) A Saint! He is a Saint! He is a Master! The Master is rapturous above us! CHANNA They are coming back! (SIDDHARTHA makes an indifferent gesture). DISCIPLES (closer) He traveled the Two Paths…The Path of Knowledge… WOMAN (approaching) Where is he? Where is he? CHANNA They are coming. Your believers! They are on their way! They found a woman who was passing by. I beg you, resume the Posture! (Two DISCIPLES and a WOMAN leading a SMALL BOY appear). WOMAN (with a frightened movement) Oh! It is not him…it is not him! He is horrifying! DISCIPLES -Ha! The master fell? -The master has given up! (CHANNA makes an ambiguous gesture). DISCIPLE What happened? WOMAN I am telling you it is not him. I will never find him! SIDDHARTHA I am weary! DISCIPLES What? What did he say? WOMAN Yes! I is him…(murmuring)Siddhartha! SIDDHARTHA (lifting his head imperceptibly) I thought I had freed myself of bad visions! (He recognizes KRISHA Gotami). KRISHA I am not a bad vision…Oh! How slow I have been in finding you! SIDDHARTHA I didn’t go far enough! (During this time, the DISCIPLES, clustered in groups around CHANNA, exchange words of surprise:) DISCIPLES -He said he was weary! -A tired sage! An ascetic who hunches over on the mire, like a lazy ox! -Let him dress in mire instead! -This has never been seen in the jungle! A sage who asks for rest! -And first of all, who is this woman speaking to him? Oh! He is answering her! He is speaking to a woman! -The villagers are going to arrive! -We have to push the people aside. -Will we be able to? Will we be able to? CHANNA Go back to those same paths…tell them…tell them the moon is not round enough tonight…or…or anything…they will believe it! (He slowly comes back toward the master who is still hunched over). KRISHA (continuing) …everywhere…I would have found you everywhere. Yet nobody could tell me your real name. They called you the Solitary or the Sage…I was looking for Gautama! SIDDHARTHA I did not go far enough! KRISHA Oh! Forty days from the city by chariot…and six years since your escape! 24

SIDDHARTHA I do not mark my path by the turn of wheels in the mire, or by the turn of the sun in the sky. KRISHA I measured everything—all the days, all my steps and all my pain. But now I am finished counting. Here you are. SIDDHARTHA Child! KRISHA No…I am not a child…I have been married for five years and a few days…but I left my husband in order to look for you. CHANNA (worried and constantly monitoring the sounds of the jungle, he comes back toward the master who, still hunched over toward the ground, answers KRISHA almost without looking at her) In the end master, a good disciple’s duty is to keep his master from being stained. And the stain of a woman—you know better than I how profound it is! And who is this woman who does not even come from the village? (Neither KRISHA nor the master answer. CHANNA stares at the new-comer and moves back, first in amazement, then with respect:) Ah! (He turns back toward the deep jungle from where importunate people are threatening to arrive) KRISHA (close to SIDDHARTHA ) Do you know who my husband is? SIDDHARTHA No. KRISHA You do not know who this child is? SIDDHARTHA No. KRISHA It is your son. SIDDHARTHA (without looking up) I thought my shackle had been removed. KRISHA You do not ask what became of his mother Yasodhara? SIDDHARTHA No. KRISHA You do not want to know what your father told people to shout everywhere so you could hear it? SIDDHARTHA No. KRISHA I am going to tell you. Suddhodana is not upset with you. He proclaims that the prophecy is fulfilled, that you can return without fear. Me, I confide in you that Yasodharà, as well as other married people, are still waiting for you… (A silence) There are also the villagers and the whole city, even the herd chiefs. Old Souddhodana is quite old now…they want no other leader than you. (A silence). Now that you know the greeting I am taking you back to, and how much they desire you, will you return quickly with me? You are tired. You are suffering. I have two good chariots and Channa will serve as a good driver. Oh! Now, are you going to return quickly? SIDDHARTHA No. KRISHA What! Is it not fear of your father that has kept you in the forest? I assure you, he no longer holds a grudge against you. For six years you have deprived us of your company and lived by yourself. Come back and live with us. What is forcing you to stay here? SIDDHARTHA You. KRISHA You do not understand. I have come to look for you. Oh! Why…Channa! Why doesn’t he want to come? SIDDHARTHA You cannot have forgotten. You roused unexpected thoughts deep inside me. Do you no longer recognize them? 25

KRISHA I have recognized you…yet, you want me to remember more? I remember naming you, the night you fled, as I opened my arms to you, a wife who would have loved you so…you did not come. I cried till day. SIDDHARTHA Before, you recited your song from the feast. Do you still know the words, so I may hear them from you lips? KRISHA What did I say? SIDDHARTHA You sung “Delivered! Delivered of all suffering.” KRISHA I sung without knowing much. SIDDHARTHA But then worlds lit up. I left, headed for liberation. You were leading me. KRISHA Oh! No! SIDDHARTHA It is you who lead me here. Bless you, Krisha Gotami. KRISHA But you should not have listened to me! I was just playing with songs…I was crazy! I was crazy! SIDDHARTHA I saw all the wisdom… KRISHA Why did I sing like that! SIDDHARTHA …and I followed it, step by step, my eyes so fixed on the goal that they became wild and so wide open… KRISHA Close your eyes! SIDDHARTHA …that I can no longer close them. KRISHA Let me cover them…with my hands…hands that will be your eyelids. SIDDHARTHA They must look further still. And I have not yet told you everything… the wisdom…well! (murmuring) I do not see it in front of me! KRISHA Trace your steps backward. SIDDHARTHA I am going to resume my journey. (He makes an effort to stand up). Farewell. KRISHA Ha! He is not coming with me! Oh! Channa…Channa! He is not coming! CHANNA No! No! He must not break the Posture. It is already a misfortune that he hunched over like that. Tell him to pull himself together! There are some people approaching! KRISHA So he is not coming! SIDDHARTHA There are people approaching. The herd again…the good herd! Where can I go to escape them? (He staggers). KRISHA Even your son could not convince you? SIDDHARTHA He is afraid of my face…you see, he is more reasonable than you. CHANNA (returning hastily) Ha! They were not able to stop them! Here are all the people of Uruvela! I beg you, Gotama, resume the Posture! Princess! He must not quit…he is a great sage! His family will be covered with honors, many more than if he returned home! Tell him. KRISHA He will honor his family? CHANNA Certainly! He will be called the Great Solitary of the Sakiya Clan! KRISHA (respectfully) Sakya-Muni! It has been a long time since one of ours has obtained the honor of sage! Sakya-Muni! Satisfy these people first, and return after. You told me I have already shown you roads…you told me I have already served you? I am leading you with songs…do you want me to sing again? 26

SIDDHARTHA Today, I would not believe any more…but, for what you once said—or did not say—your desire shall now be realized in my powers…(bitterly) Let them come now, the audience for my wisdom…and let them see me obey the child you were long ago…let them come. (His eyes blaze. KRISHA steps back in terror. The master is again alone in the center of a great space, his arms up, his palms forward, with an impassable gaze. CHANNA, who has been keeping an eye on them as he paced in agitation, calms down). DISCIPLE (coming back greatly vexed) I was not able to dissuade them…they want to pay homage! CHANNA They still want to pay homage! DISCIPLE They did not want to return. They say there must be a master in the jungle. CHANNA They are always looking for other masters! But let them come in peace now. The master is in ecstasy, and here is the first woman who has the good fortune to pay tribute to him! (Silently, with an affected confidence, all kinds of people appear. They seem to emerge from the deepest part of the dense brush, for there are no paths through the jungle. Though they arrive in silence, respectful murmurs can be heard:) CROWD -It is true! He is in ecstasy. -Why were they preventing us from coming? -He will only have more power from it. -What will he manifest in front of us? -And first, what must we do in his presence? -We must turn three times around him, from left to right. -There are too many people. The entire village is here! -Or uncover our left shoulder. -It has been a long time since we have seen a sage! -He does honor to the whole country! -His presence removes demons. (The DISCIPLES busily come and go, and arrange the crowd, leaving a large circle around the master. Then they come to pay tribute with rigorous words, spoken in a monotonous chant devoid of nuance:) DISCIPLES -A Saint! He is a Saint! He is a master! -The master conquered the Powers. -At his will, flowers open. -The lotus blooms. -Fire does not bite his skin. -Beasts venerate him—a tiger came and licked him. -A lion turned three times around him. -His flesh exhausted, he is richly dressed in penance. CHANNA (grandiosely) Skies are built on airs, airs fly on earth, earth swims on waters, waters sleep on truth, truth rests on mystical knowledge, mystical knowledge is made of tortures and meditations. VOICE A marvel! CROWD (echoing) A marvel! 27

CHANNA Do not shout! The master hears you. CROWD (more pressing) A marvel! The Powers! A marvel! CHANNA (in a low voice) Wait… (A shiver passes through the crowd as a large tree, leans down and bows to the sage as one would customarily salute a king. Without creasing, all its vibrating leaves come to bow low to the ground. The air seems heavy. Gray storm clouds, sequined with shining dots, sparkle around the miracle maker. A blue light dances on his head, runs off his fingers and goes under the bark of the large, docile tree to meet the sap which is also illuminated. The CROWD can shout neither with joy nor with fright. Eyes which followed the top of the large tree—eyes that likewise paid tribute—remain fixed. All life is anguished. Then, without even a screeching of its fibers, the tree stands up straight. Its small branches no longer shiver in the air, which becomes transparent and free once more. The crowd heaves a great sigh. They shake with enthusiasm. Some women, as if in love, shout and bustle about the impassive ascetic, covering his coat with their lips, and parting their hair. A rumor frees itself from the heavy silence, and pours out in an enormous cry:) -Sakya-Muni! -Sakya-Muni! -Sakya-Muni!

CURTAIN. 28

ACT IV

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The immobile sage retains the same posture. The crowd swells. They become impetuous, and their clamors of celebration do not stop. Newcomers mingle in, complaining. Tumultuous clamors. Now the crowd is innumerable). CROWD -What did he do? I have not seen anything! -I have brought two young goats as gifts! -He does not seem disposed to start the display over again! -He will not start over again! -A marvel! Another marvel! -Another… (All the voices mingle). CHANNA Leave the master alone. He is tired. VOICE Tired already? CHANNA No! He meditates on knowledge… CROWD -He has been meditating for years! -And I have not seen anything! -We have seen nothing! -A marvel! Another marvel! (The cries become impatient and spiteful. The CROWD encircles the sage and closes in. He is pushed. Ironic cries:) -The master has lost the powers… -Ha! His eyes moved. -He is no longer immobile. -Did you feel his breath? -He swayed. -He is going to fall. Ha! Ha! Ha! (Brusquely, there is an enormous bustle in the CROWD, which surges back like a circular wave and once again leaves a large empty space around the master. The master stands up. His stature is that of a ruler and all-mighty. His face is noble and fearsome. His nostrils pulse. His hands restrain and threaten the crowd, making them shrink from him and trample over each other to step back. The voices deaden with confusion). SIDDHARTHA O people of children! O people thirsty for miracles like jackals thirsty for stagnant water! Do you take me for a juggler? For your very own juggler, perhaps? And you clamor for other games…other parades! Did I not give you enough cause to rejoice ? For so many years you have fed on my anguish…did I not satisfy your appetite? Was I not a good ascetic? For so many lunar months—from new moon to new moon—I maintained postures and observed great abstinences! I held my breath! I crushed my body! And now, when I refuse to perform like an entertainer and give in to your curiosities, you harass me without respite…Ha! The Powers? I have them! I am holding them! (He walks toward the crowd). Do you want me to juggle 29

you the way I do trees? (He makes signs). Do you want people to dry up when I look at them? (With each of his steps and gestures, the CROWD scrambles to step back). CHANNA You have irritated the master. Leave him alone. Rest assured! He will consent…later…and you will not find a better master in the jungle. (The CROWD disperses, greatly vexed. SIDDHARTHA , stiffened against a tree, dreams. The DISCIPLES try to reassure those who linger. A WOMAN remains). KRISHA Me, I am staying. I am still waiting for you. I am no longer asking you for wonders, but only that you come…you see, they wanted to harm you! SIDDHARTHA (his eyes wild) There is still a woman here? KRISHA No! It is me. SIDDHARTHA There is a woman here. KRISHA (approaching with gentleness) My master…my cousin…my friend of so many days…you are free now…are you going to listen to me and follow me? What can I do so he follows me! Do not look away like that. You can see my face almost touching yours. Is he still in ecstasy? Is he lost? SIDDHARTHA Another vision…again my bad visions…and yet I have the Powers! Lies! But I could not strike haphazardly among the crowd…I did not want to because of Krisha…Krisha…where is she? KRISHA All around you…I surround your poor body… SIDDHARTHA Another lying voice! No! You are not Krisha! You are a woman…you are a wife…go and caress your husband, in your turn, among the other wives, if he accepts you! Go and cry to your son who will rip your flesh to pieces, and who will also cry in pain. You are not Krisha. Leave me alone. (He frees one of his arms which she was embracing. His eyes are softer, his voice too:) Krisha! It was a small child who once sung to me the most astonishing songs and then kept quiet, and who I later fled…it was my diviner! It was my enlightener! I loved her…I loved her…more than any other wives on my bed! I never knew her body. I fled too quickly. Where is she? KRISHA So close that you cannot see her. You are looking too far away! SIDDHARTHA No! No! Leave me alone, you…I still have such a long route to travel. I want to escape myself! I want to save myself from the world! Salvation! Where is the salvation which will deliver me of myself and the suffering deep inside? KRISHA Salvation! He thinks only of that! Do I think of what I will become, or of what I will not become? I only think of never leaving him! And does Yasodhara, who is like me—and all the other wives like me! SIDDHARTHA (looking at her contemptuously) Yes! It is really her. I recognize her. KRISHA Ah! SIDDHARTHA But it is not Krisha. It is a woman. You are not Krisha, you are an old woman. KRISHA Oh! How to persuade him! Oh! To awaken him! Listen: you know this well. I sung “Delivered! Delivered of all shackles…” and it seemed to please you. You were enjoying my song! SIDDHARTHA But I am not delivered… (brusquely) and then, who told this woman… she is playing with my prophecies…she is playing with the miraculous echoes of my soul! She says what Krisha said to me…she has stolen Krisha’s voice and changed it…oh a bad vision…but I have the Powers, and so much the better for once! Finally…I am going…I am going. (He frees himself from her supplicating arms. He 30

stands up and stretches his hands out to KRISHA. KRISHA is brusquely stopped in her rush toward him, bends beneath the unbearable, heavy glance and crashes. She lies down, remaining pallid and stiffer than a corpse. SIDDHARTHA , as if freed from these assaults, breathes heavily. He steps back. All sounds of the CROWD have died away. One by one, the DISCIPLES slowly come back. They appear dismayed. One of them notices KRISHA or rather, her body). DISCIPLE What did he do to her? DISCIPLE She is dead. DISCIPLE No. She is not dead. DISCIPLE It would be better for her if she were dead. (They all come back to stand next to SIDDHARTHA who, weary, is seated on the tree roots to the right. They look at each other in silence. Then:) DISCIPLE We had placed ourselves in your hands, as the enlightened guide! DISCIPLE Two years of care! DISCIPLE We had chosen you as our master! DISCIPLE Me! I kept away harmful beasts and wanderers who would have scornfully covered you with mud. DISCIPLE You owe us the honors that surround you and your reputation! We called out your knowledge. We proclaimed your virtue and the ten perfumes of your virtue! DISCIPLE A master without disciples cannot call himself a true master! DISCIPLE You deceived us! DISCIPLE He deceived us! But he is a good juggler. CHANNA (sadly) And yet, we were good disciples! Me especially, who never left you! I was born the day you were born. I saw everything that scared you. I abandoned everything, like you! And later became an excellent companion, really! So why show yourself to be such a mean master? SIDDHARTHA And who really—you or me—sought the other? Did I beg for your presence? Two years! Three years! Thousands of years! This is but a breath compared to my anguishes and my terrors! CHANNA It is true, master! SIDDHARTHA And who then, made a spectacle for the crowd? Who disappointed them? The crowd came, threw glorious titles on me…but I am not your enslaved juggler… CHANNA You well know the Yogis always make a point of outdoing one another! They never refuse to perform! SIDDHARTHA Leave the Yogis to their juggling acts. I know all they know and I can do everything they can! Yogi? I no longer deign to be a Yogi! DISCIPLES -Oh! He wants to go further… -He wants to become… -What then…more than a Yogi? -More than a miracle-worker, perhaps? -Maybe more than a Saint. -What are you then? More than a Yogi? More than a Saint? SIDDHARTHA I am…I am an unhappy man…an unhappy man who seeks joy…a lost living being who seeks life…true life…I seek…I seek… 31

DISCIPLE But all your powers…all your knowledge…ascetics are calm. They are so close to the soul of the world! What more can you desire—you, who can do everything? SIDDHARTHA I still desire everything…but first, to desire no more…to quench my thirsts! To extinguish my being! To extinguish my thought…! Ha! You said “the untamable ascetic?” Lies! Do you know the torments that swell and rise in an exhausted body? You do not know the vexations of a victorious soul…you, who followed me on this difficult path and let me continue leading you! But first! Let’s go backwards…backwards! You see, I was wrong. My road is wrong. My efforts were in vain. Listen: tortures, fasts, the Ten Abstinences and the Powers—all of it—deception and useless misery…useless, do you hear that horrible word? Useless! Do you believe I have attained the goal? Do you believe I am the master of my own liberation? Here…look…do you see what I see? Do you see what binds me? There…and also there… (From the trees he points to some FORMS which come out and wander for an instant, then disappear). DISCIPLES What does he think he sees? There is nothing there except trees! SIDDHARTHA Nothing? Ah! Blind men! How about there…and there? (He indicates the stretched-out body of KRISHA ). DISCIPLES Nothing. A woman…the one that fell from your gaze. SIDDHARTHA No! It is a small child who I pushed away a long time ago…she has blue tunics and she sings. It seemed to me that she came from the body of this woman…but it is not true…it cannot be…I would have sensed it…I would have known it long ago! And that child would not have said the ponderous things that this woman did. DISCIPLE They often come to that! When they have chased women around, they begin to dream up others. DISCIPLE What he sees, is it perhaps a female demon? DISCIPLES -Well, this is an awful sign. -Much more awful than the usual follies… -And much more compromising for us! -The people will stone us one day! SIDDHARTHA I am hungry. Where are the offerings they brought me? DISCIPLES -He is not crazy—he is a coward! He wants to break the great fast! -He is betraying us! -He is afraid—he is a coward! SIDDHARTHA I am hungry! DISCIPLES Those are words of weakness or deceit—The strong persevere. He is a coward! SIDDHARTHA Yes go ahead! Insult me! DISCIPLES -We could compromise our group with him among us! -His breath and shadow will be the meeting place for lowly demons. -They will have to be chased away with stones. -He should thrash himself! 32

(They raise branches at SIDDHARTHA and threaten him). SIDDHARTHA (helplessly) Oh! You…you… DISCIPLES (standing their ground, sniggering) -See! Proof! He has lost everything—even the Powers! -Indeed, he is an unworthy master! -He is not worthy of disciples like us! -There is nothing left to learn from him! (looking at the offerings left by the crowd) -This belongs to us! (They throw the lambs on their shoulders and leave). -He would compromise our group! -I know an excellent Yogi, close to the Rohita river. -Other masters! (Only CHANNA remains. But he is profoundly undecided. A moment passes. The abandoned master is hunched over, his forehead in his hands, apparently numb to the abandonment. Then CHANNA starts to leave, surreptitiously. The master hears him and looks up). SIDDHARTHA Channa! (CHANNA regretfully comes back. He risks a gesture of commiseration. Finally, he turns his eyes away from the almost supplicating eyes of the master. He leaves slowly like the others. SIDDHARTHA watches him go. Then he lowers his eyelids and lets his head drop in his hands).

SLOW CURTAIN. 33

ACT V - EPILOGUE

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(We see SIDDHARTHA , in the same posture, in the middle of the jungle. It seems a long time has passed—or perhaps it is still the same night. The fawn-colored moon which was only beginning to rise at the start of the crowd’s adoration is high in the sky. It digs a well of light in the thicket and forms a bright clearing, made dark again by the encroaching back-forest and surrounding brush. One night, one moon, a solar year— or only an hour of anguish? Everything combines and presses down like centuries of torment. SIDDHARTHA slowly raises his head. He looks around. He recognizes the familiar jungle. He remembers everything: the homages, the offerings, the insults and the abandonment). SIDDHARTHA Is it possible that a being in man’s flesh can suffer what I suffered…and still live…to suffer again undoubtedly! They adored me. They implored me, they laid down their homages…they threw insults at me and then they abandoned me. They are good people. But all that is not one-thousandth of a part of what struggled deep inside me…if I could only abandon myself! An abyss! A gulf to fall endlessly into…without ever living again…without ever again wearing flesh which ages, or a face that cries at what it sees. The torrent of rebirths holds me in its enslaved lives…I cannot die…I cannot even die! (He gets up with an awful laugh. He glances at the milk bowls and the other bowls of Sôma which nourish priests and were used to arouse gods). Then…if I tried, perhaps, to live again? (He drinks eagerly). Since my path is bad… since I went off track, since I was wrong in torturing my body…if I returned by reversing my steps? It seems someone was imploring me to do that! And my city will always welcome me…they are waiting for me…they will receive me with cries of enthusiasm…I will be King! Since I cannot be a sage, and since there is no wisdom… I will become a man again—since I cannot free myself of the man I am! They are waiting for me! They are waiting for me! The Sakyas are strong and astute…they taught me the art of conquest. I will have twenty-four elephants and war chariots… have other kings been considered great? I will conquer the four kingdoms—they will call me the Victorious! (There is a sniggering laugh and a squall of mockery from the high branches). SIDDHARTHA Someone laughed in the clouds! Sky, be quiet or I shall climb up to meet your assault! O invisible and victorious—do you hear? After that I will pile up the stones that were carved for the glory of my people and for my goodwill…and I will pacify the world—if there remains a world outside my kingdoms! A WHISTLING VOICE But first look at yourself, corpse! OTHER VOICES Look at yourself, corpse! SIDDHARTHA (disconcerted) Where is that coming from? (On instinct, he obeys and looks for water, so he may lean into its reflection. The moon illuminates a pool of pond water. He leans in. He lets out a desperate cry of horror:) Ha! It is not even a man I see. It is a dreadful old person! It is a dead person! It is me! Me! And my mind still thinks! And my corpse walks around palpitating…I cannot die! I have lost everything except my dreadful existence! It hounds me, fiercely assaulting me from all sides! 34

VOICES IN THE TREES -We too are still here… -Do not look for us—you could not join us! -Do not flee—you could not escape us! -Do not try to close your ears to us… (A tree moves and from it, a form half emerges and calls out in an ironic voice:) -Do not try to see us! (The form disappears behind the tree). SIDDHARTHA Just as always…familiar forms, visions, loved ones and cursed ones… delights and terrors… (More FORMS appear from behind bushes and trees. Their voices mingle together, chirping:) VOICES -The prince has been pushing us away for so many years… -We have not seen the terrestrial night for so many years… -We have been silent for so many years… -Where are our other reflections… -Where is Desire-for-Riches? -Where is Desire-for-Caresses? -And Joy-of-Open Eyelids—where is she? -The prince is not beautiful…he saw himself in the water. -In the water… -Yet we do not run from him! -He loves us! He loves us! -He tried to chase us away. (laughing) -Ha! -He tried to strangle us! -We are alive and vivacious! We are the strongest! (The laughing FORMS multiply, appearing and disappearing like sleepy hallucinations. They emerge from trees, then retreat behind them. They skirt around visible objects such as tree trunks and folds in the ground. They change form magically to blend with them, and weave a moving, whirling pattern which palpitates amidst the fixed aspects of the jungle. Their voices whisper, ring, sometimes yelp. Their tunics move without precise lines and suddenly fly up, revealing a glittering contour of pale but noble-colored flesh, shining so brightly that lust flies through the feverish air, illuminated by an incredibly wan glow). FORMS -What use are days of hunger? -What use are dawns of anguish? -What use are… SIDDHARTHA (watching with growing surprise) I had never imagined so many girls and so many women around me…wives! Thousands of wives on my bed! VOICES -He is inviting us… -He is waiting for us… -He is calling us… -He desires us… 35

(They come by the thousands and gather around him, running from tree to tree as if light were dissolving them, and they require a stage in the shadows. Then certain more advanced figures swing back and forth in rhythms that caress the eyes and seem to shut SIDDHARTHA in, intertwining all he sees:) -You are calling us… -You are inviting us… -You desire us…… -You carry us away… -You are re-discovered in us… SIDDHARTHA Oh! Oh! If only this were true! (He walks toward them). To see them closer up…and perhaps to seize them… (But rising from KRISHA’S body—which still lies in the same spot—is a thin blue translucent FORM which flies in spirals and comes to float behind SIDDHARTHA, bending passionately toward the visions. The blue FORM radiates a light that is nothing like the light of this world—a light that is nothing like daylight. It is paler than a breath, but nevertheless so sharp, so penetrating and revealing that suddenly all the FORMS grow pale. SIDDHARTHA , who has not seen the mysterious occurrence, is surprised:) My images grow pale! My desires perhaps? My lovers fade…and all my beauties decompose…like the face of a corpse under the earth! Oh! The spectacle of rotting! Oh! The scattering of reflections and the putrefaction of appearances! Oh! Oh! (The FORMS vanish. Horrible FORMS appear: faces with no features, heads with no faces, torsos without heads, green cheeks and lips, mouths with inhuman teeth and ambiguous trunks of indistinguishable sex. The light intensifies). SIDDARTHA (screaming) Ha! I see! I see! I see all too well and too clearly—and too profoundly! All this horribleness wanted to penetrate me again! It was all a deception! But I know now! You are the evil breath of my worldly desires…I have dispelled you… (The trees oscillate under gusts of wind that can be neither heard nor felt. The light has grown). SIDDARTHA And you—Nature—wandering actress! Nature with your breasts adorned like a dancer’s, dancing with all of this…I see now what I was plunged into when you gave birth to me! Oh! Bewitching one! Mother of torrential reflections! You have made-up eyes. I see your breasts, hidden by disgust—but I uncover your chest, deceptive Nature. I am ripping off your tinsel corset! I am ripping off your tunic… and I am calling you Illusion-of-the-World! (laughing with force and confidence) Ha! Ha! Ha! Let the trees stir now…let the earth wrinkle and shake! Let my ideas rebel and swirl round…all that is no longer me! I hate you! I disperse you! I free myself! (The visions subside. The large trees calm down. The earth no longer throbs. The light has grown and the BLUE FORM is near, speaking with KRISHA’S voice:) KRISHA And me—will you disperse me too? (SIDDHARTHA turns and looks at the transfigured form, enveloped in light. SIDDHARTHA is dazzled by it and transfigured himself). SIDDHARTHA But…it comes from another world. You are Krisha—or rather, have taken her voice. You are the small child Krisha whom I have already known many thousands of years ago. KRISHA You are no longer pushing me away? 36

SIDDHARTHA I am looking at you. KRISHA You are no longer insulting me? SIDDHARTHA I have never insulted you… KRISHA You thought you were pushing me away…you thought you flung me down like a troublesome dog. Look. Here is my body, which has not moved… (She points to the stretched-out form). SIDDHARTHA This was not Krisha. KRISHA It is from her that you gave birth to me. SIDDHARTHA You are the small child Krisha…I recognize you. I see you! You are my Diviner! You are my Enlightener! KRISHA One day I sung “Delivered! Delivered from suffering and released from shackles!” SIDDHARTHA (bitterly) But I am not delivered! KRISHA But I have reappeared to lead you again. Do you not see another shining dawn? SIDDHARTHA I see no other dawn than you. Where should I look? KRISHA Deep within yourself. SIDDHARTHA I see nothing! Yes, perhaps…but I have already seen them during these past hours…and they died, one by one! KRISHA And listen…there are voices, forever unheard, that are singing…listen…there are unheard voices… SIDDHARTHA Voices! Let them be silent… KRISHA Here are other voices…listen… VOICES (murmuring) -Delivered of the suffering of being… -He is unshackling himself, freeing himself… -He recognizes what is not him—suffering is not him… SIDDHARTHA Yes! These voices sing of ineffable things…never have a man’s ears rejoiced at words of such good presage…but how weak and far-away they are! How far-off they are! They come from a million years away! How were they able to reach me without dying out? Without dissolving along the way? KRISHA They are coming closer…they are looking for you… VOICES -The Awakening after the world’s heavy slumber! -The Awakening! -Clarity over night! Clarity! SIDDHARTHA They are soft. They are cold. They passed over the Himalayas! Snow is falling on my burns—snow just as they say it exists among the skies of ice and happy coldness! But I do not dare hope they will come to me…and I do not want to listen to anything but your words. Krisha! Krisha! Krisha! I no longer wish to turn my face away from yours. You are so close and so certain that my body breathes through yours…I feel my life feeding itself from your life. (getting closer) My hands! They are looking for you! They are caressing you! KRISHA They cannot touch me…they would pass through me! SIDDHARTHA (caressing the air) Ha! You have no flesh! You have no body! And yet you live… (suddenly saddened) and perhaps you are suffering too? 37

KRISHA I am not suffering. I am not living. O Siddhartha who walks toward the goal, do you no longer recognize me? I am preceding you…I am leading you… SIDDHARTHA O Diviner! O Enlightener! You are radiant! (The light shines around KRISHA . The closest part of the surrounding jungle has disappeared). KRISHA Look at the world shining forth! SIDDHARTHA I am completely enveloped in light! It radiates around me…the glowing of every daybreak in the world at the time of the awakening! It is you! I hail you, Diviner, at the rise of my eternal day! I hail you, Enlightener! Oh! The shining! The ineffable, sparkling dawn! KRISHA Glow…which will roll over the worlds SIDDHARTHA Glow…which sets me free. KRISHA Glow… SIDDHARTHA Light eating the darkness…glow which frees me, Krisha! I only think with your radiating spirit! I think your thoughts! I am you! KRISHA I am you. (Silence. For the first time, they see each other face-to-face. The glow pouring forth from KRISHA spreads over the depths of the jungle, washing it away. A bluish cloud surrounds them. The jungle disappears. Then, the eternal lovers loosen their eyes’ embrace and look—as one—at the world that remains. Their gestures become symmetrical and harmonious). KRISHA See! The forms are drowned in light! SIDDHARTHA They did not exist! KRISHA You no longer regret them? SIDDHARTHA I do not want them any more! Oh! My bad dream is breaking up and falling…but what about this transparent forest? (The city of Kapilavastu springs up with its ramparts, houses, palaces and palms). KRISHA Your kingdom and the four great kingdoms! Your city and the fields of your city! The earth’s crust and the four continents…here are palaces rising and opening! Here are the dwelling places of kings! And here are the splendors of victorious nations. SIDDHARTHA Marvel! Everything has become iridescent, like the clouds! Everything trembles like smoke! Everything flickers over fog…they are truly the magi! KRISHA Crystal reflections! Lamps playing in the light! (The palaces of men and their painted brick walls give way and disappear). SIDDHARTHA The walls are collapsing…perhaps all that was suffering inside will disappear too? KRISHA Do you regret your time in the city? SIDDHARTHA I see through it! I see further! (In an illuminated space, summits of immeasurable height soar above the rising vision. These are the marvelous Himalayas, or perhaps the primordial mountains which form the orb of the world and the four continents). SIDDHARTHA Here, perhaps, is stability! Here is peace of mind! Suffering ends up there. Does it not end just by looking so high up? It must be endless…boundless, fantastically eternal. 38

KRISHA But look! Look! Not as high as the mountains, but look through the hills…see how your gaze pierces them! They burst! They vaporize and turn to smoke, rolling away like a puff of air…and you no longer envy their bursting eternity. SIDDHARTHA I no longer envy…what is glowing beyond the mountains? (The space grows brighter like a swelling wave enshrouding, in an interminable circle, the illusory spheres where the devas sit enthroned. Palaces of white stone appear and music flows from them, in prestigious emanations). SIDDHARTHA Finally! I am going to see the devas! Let them come out of their stone palaces! KRISHA Do you want to walk in the middle as the First among them? Do you want to be called the Exciter of Light? SIDDHARTHA I do not want to be a deva! They are restless! They roll enormous passions! They must suffer terribly! And I promised to pacify them! (The shining white palaces stream with so many lights that the eye turns away from them). Oh! Their palaces are suns! KRISHA But look closer still. SIDDHARTHA I see nothing. I no longer see anything at all! I did not see the gods… (The palaces of the gods, like the palaces of men, have become more invisible that the calm air. In their place, a cloud of indiscernible color now floats, undulates a little, then spreads out to form an immense sea) …but I saw the illusion of the worlds! I am delivered of the world…and it flows in me, a whole ocean of calm…without wrinkles, without shores… (He walks toward the immense sea). KRISHA And me…can you deliver yourself of me? SIDDHARTHA (turning back toward her) It is through you that the world has revealed itself. KRISHA Can you deliver yourself of me? SIDDHARTHA You are the dearest essence of myself…Krisha! Krisha! Krisha! KRISHA Can you deliver yourself of me? (A terrible moment of uncertainty passes, during which Siddhartha seems to approach Krisha, who imperceptibly moves back. Opaque clouds violently invade every part of the vision. During this time, confusing darkness rushes in with the unexpected nightfall. Unsuspected Powers struggle. Tumult. There is a great, triumphant cry and a bright light: Krisha has disappeared. Siddhartha, pierced by this light, backs up to the borders of the worlds that have flown away and appears distant in the open space of pink light where nothing of the fallen visions remains. We see neither forms nor movement—only unequaled calm and clarity. A universal chorus begins as close, muted rumors immediately rise up from the anguished world, which still remains for the spectator). VOICES OF THE DEVAS (quivering in the air) You, who has found the way of Peace —Master of Knowledge! The Enlightened! The Buddha! VOICES OF TERRESTRIAL MEN You, who has found Deliverance! Master of Knowledge! The Enlightened! The Buddha! VOICES OF THE LIVING BEINGS You, who has found the end of Suffering, Master of Knowledge! The Enlightened! The Buddha! ALL -Will you not come and teach us? 39

-Will you remember us, who are reborn in suffering? -Will you wake us from the torrents of shackled lives? -Will you not come and teach us? (The Buddha, whose face shines without quivering, without palpitating, comes back down slowly toward those imploring him to teach them).(1)

(1) Other end indicated by Victor Segalen: -Where have you found the way of peace? THE BUDDHA in myself...

APPENDICE I (Text added in Tientsin, July 7, 1911)

The Buddha, whose face shines; without smiling (is standing, immobile,)1 stopped suddenly by the anxious voice of all things. --Whether he pursues his route and goes, logical with himself, until the end of his journey? and here the whole Deliverance is lost, (that the unskillful disciples did not know how to preserve the teaching;)2 and here all that he did, all that he said crumbles; that for which he suffered so much. Never mind, since he knows that he does not ignore anything, that he has saved himself. Let the others do the same! And in all the transparency of the world, why would he delay his absolute disappearance...

An immense tensed equilibrium had ripened. Like an effort that is going to break; like a fall still immobile but which is going to decide, either for the right, or for the left; either for salvation, or for indifference. --The world has understood that this is decisive

1The words in parenthesis were crossed out on the manuscript. 2 Id. 40 like a redemption and more mysterious than an awakening from a long]period of time... And little by little, even the loud voices have gone silent. By respect for the decision, whatever it may be, they are silent, they hide away, they hold their breath, ready to roar with joy or to despair.

Still immobile, the Savior gathers the immense Desire of the world, which does not even awaken in him the desire to save it. But he is too far, too high, too much elsewhere, too absent from all, and he remains there, immobile, without answering, without existing any longer.

And everything that his future disciples will recite later in his name, all his Law, his order, his monasteries, his flowers and his memory, everything that will be done under his shadow and that billions of humans have repeated after him, will only be imposture (or the work of an impostor): for him only could live what he only has lived. And everything is incommunicable.

NOTES. --Justification-Bibliography_ Theatrical production.

The first draft of the drama goes back to the first stay in Colombo and Kandy--(October, November and December 1904)--,this is to say right in the center of the early Buddhist tradition. --I'm surprised to see so unknown in Europe, at least from true artists, the human elements of the story of Siddhârtha. Surprise to find a man,--and one of ours [he could have been],--where one expects to contemplate a extra-human figure, deformed by the adorations. --Immediate desire to write the story of this man, and first of all, in its authentic environment. --And then, right away, transformation of the chosen form: the dramatic form impose itself , or at least, the dramatic dialogue. To write with enough opulence and as much evocation as possible, the decor, the movement, the participation of the surrounding nature to the hidden bursts of the hero. --Personality of Siddhartha absorbing all by itself the complete reason for being of the whole drama. In this direction, long meetings with the Singhalese monks of Kandy and Colombo colleges. Their tendencies to superhumanize the Gotama, for the life, at least,-- but while keeping to the rigorous sucession of his frustrations, of his disgusts, and all his horror of wordly reality. 41

The true human story could have been like such: A raja's son from the Sakya clan, inherits of the long and meditative Hindu though, which for centuries has been rethinking itself indefinitely. He is ready for all satiations. He lives in the center of a society which conceals, by luxury, all ugliness. One day he is brusquely put into contact with harsh and poverty-stricken life: his suffering of being alive bursts. There are examples of princes casting off their powers to live as ascetics; he strips himself. He flees. He tortures himself. He searches. He does not find peace in his soul. Then, by dint of meditating, he arrives to a clear and calm moment which he hopes will be final and which seems so splendid to him after the doubts and the suffering, that nothing matters for him henceforth, if it not his inner enlightenment. --There is only there movements of a sensibility which is not very foreign to ours. It matters little that later so many philosophical wild imaginings came to be superfluously added.

Thus from this moment on, the drama will tend to deviate, by its vocabulary, its progression, its rhythm from the so heavily moral development of the Hindu tradition. Without doubt, the first act (the Visions), is about symmetrical to the beginning of the legend. But certain details must already specify and state the drama: the painful antagonism between the celebrating City and the dark Plain; the brusque passage of Siddhârtha, from the City to the Plain; his unavoidable terror; the paroxysm to which his preexisting boredom must reach; --but alone, one point will be developed during the whole drama, giving rise also to the development of a new character: the song of Krisha, the "delivered", the repercussion of which in Siddhârtha will call for the Escape, the Asceticism, and will even prophesy the final appeasement. Besides, the character of Krisha, almost inexistent in the Hindu narrative, will start, as soon as the second act, this double life, this double appearance which it will be important to mark with undeniable traits: there are two Krisha: first the ignorant and vivacious little-child of the first act, having become the too assiduous spouse of the III and IV acts, too heavy, too "woman" --the one whom Siddhârtha despises and shoots down. --Secondly, the Krisha of the II act and of the Epilogue: the non-existent, if not in a stronger reality: in the mind itself of Siddhârtha; the one which he has made appear from the other; the one who is the essence itself of his liberated thought; who is his thought. To tend to differentiate the two Krishas without the possibility of a misunderstanding. From the III act on, deliberate divergence from the scholastic distortions from which the figure of the hero is overshadowed. --It is not an impassible master, but still an unequal, vacillating, falling man but still anguished about the goal and walking towards this goal which he does not yet make out. --The miracle belongs rather to the yogi facts, --by which Siddhârtha went through,--than to purely Buddhist sources --The fourth act is only an desertion, but the most hopeless than can be, the most absolute there is. No recourse to suicide: the law of chain Rebirths, so profoundly Hindu, render it ineffectual, and even the worst all acts to commit. Remains the Epilogue --In the tortured mind of Siddhârtha, a glow of appeasement slips in: the vanity of the illusory world: of this world which causes his suffering. This glow grows. It renders him serene. It illuminates him. He only sees it. --The growing circles and waves, and the worlds showing through and flying away; --this 42 does not want to show any other thing than this inexpressible and beautiful moment when the doleful hero caught a glimpse at the possible end of his suffering --by nothingness? by the absorption in a peace... it still matters little to us Europeans. In one word, a series of "motions"1 of alternate fits of hope and weakness and still other hopes; this, in a sensibility akin to ours; and the repercussion in the world of appearances (sky and forests, airs and waters and the earth's crust), of these fits.

The personalities of Siddhârtha and of Krisha, are thus complementary, they suppose and envelop each other. Channa, whose legendary role ends at the time of the Escape, reappears, in the drama, with the disciples, and disciple of the first hour himself. For what remains: disciples--villagers--movements of the crowd--joy of the City behind the walls-- forms and voices in the epilogue, complete flexibility in the dramatic process to use them; and complete subordination to the final form of the drama. joy of the City behind the walls-- forms and voices in the epilogue, complete flexibility in the scenic way to use them; and complete subordination to the final form of the drama.

VARIOUS NOTES (during the realization of the successive scenarios.)

...to strip the spectacle and to divert the spectator from all legendary cycle, from all myth. To show him/her a man who is born, who lives, who is distressed, and who, during a flash which for him seems to escape time, catches a glimpse within himself of a inexpressible sweetness and peace.

..."I tell you, the world lives in this living body no bigger than a toise."1 --The Buddha.

Project: To make simultaneous (as much as possible) the movements of the curtain with the first and the last tempos. To rise on the first note of the act, to let it fall on the last. Thus one saves oneself, at the ends of the acts, the worried and unbalanced wait , and these last unlistened to calls of the orchestra. One does not dissociate the musical

1 Note of the translator: In English in the French original text. 1 a toise = 6 1/2 ft. 43 conclusion from the spectacle itself...--This way the mirage dissolves all in one piece, without dispersing itself; without dulling.

Decor: The participation of the decor to the action.

(IInd act): tumultuous arrival of the monsoon. (IIIrd act): the miracle of the big tree--

Epilogue: the transformation of real beings into a vision. The disappearance of the world.

Initial intention]of a minute reconstitution. Recognized it to be quite vain: better to look for an exact balance between what one will see, what one will hear, what one will feel. Not to worry about rigorously determined types]of trees on such slope of the Himalayas, but of the impression to be produced by such forms, such depths of bushes and forests.

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