Becoming a ferryman with Vasudeva

After abandoning his life as a wealthy merchant and gambler, and following a moment of suicidal despair by the river, Siddhartha finds his way to the ferry of Vasudeva, the same ferryman who had transported him years earlier. This decision marks the beginning of his final and most transformative phase, a period of simple labor, deep listening, and ultimate spiritual fulfillment. By becoming a ferryman, Siddhartha does not merely change his occupation; he enters into a living relationship with the river itself, which becomes his greatest teacher and the medium through which he finally achieves the peace and unity he has sought his entire life.

Joining Vasudeva and the River

Siddhartha approaches the ferry and recognizes the aged ferryman, Vasudeva, who had once ferried the young Samana across the river. Vasudeva, in turn, remembers Siddhartha after a moment, recalling that they had parted as good friends more than twenty years ago. Siddhartha asks to stay, offering to become Vasudeva's assistant and trainee, and Vasudeva welcomes him, saying, "Stay with me, Siddhartha, my friend." Vasudeva's wife had died long ago, and he had lived alone; now there would be space and food for both. Siddhartha learns to operate the boat, and when there is no ferry work, he helps Vasudeva in the rice-field, gathers wood, plucks fruit from the banana-trees, and learns to build an oar, mend the boat, and weave baskets. He is joyful in everything he learns, and the days and months pass quickly. More than what Vasudeva can teach him, however, Siddhartha is taught by the river. He learns from it incessantly, most of all to listen with a quiet heart, a waiting and opened soul, without passion, without a wish, without judgement, without an opinion.

Learning from the River

The river becomes Siddhartha's primary teacher. He learns from it that time is not real, that the river is everywhere at once—at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the rapids, in the sea, in the mountains—and that there is only the present time for it, not the shadow of the past, not the shadow of the future. This realization transforms his understanding of his own life: the boy Siddhartha is only separated from the man Siddhartha and the old man Siddhartha by a shadow, not by something real. He also learns that the river has many voices—the voice of a king, a warrior, a bull, a bird of the night, a woman giving birth, a sighing man, and a thousand others—and that when one succeeds in hearing all of these ten thousand voices at once, they speak the single word "Om," the perfection. Vasudeva confirms this, and their smiles grow more alike, becoming bright, childlike, and full of bliss. The two ferrymen often sit together by the bank in the evening, saying nothing, both listening to the water, which is no longer water to them but the voice of life, of what exists, of what is eternally taking shape.

The Ferry as a Place of Confession and Healing

The ferry becomes a place where travelers, drawn by the presence of the two ferrymen, begin to tell the stories of their lives, confessing pains and evil things, asking for comfort and advice. Siddhartha himself experiences this healing power of confession. After his son runs away, Siddhartha is consumed by a burning wound of love and loss. He returns to the hut and, for the first time, tells Vasudeva everything—his walk to the city, his envy of happy fathers, his knowledge of the foolishness of such wishes, his futile fight against them. He presents his wound, and as he speaks, he feels his pain and fears flow over to Vasudeva, who listens with a quiet face. Siddhartha senses that this listener is no longer just a human being but the river itself, God himself, the eternal itself. To show his wound to this listener is the same as bathing it in the river, until it has cooled and become one with the river. Through this act of confession, Siddhartha's wound blossoms, his suffering shines, and his self flows into the oneness.

Vasudeva's Departure and Siddhartha's Final Peace

After Siddhartha achieves this final realization, Vasudeva, who had been waiting for this hour, announces his departure. He says, "I'm going into the forests, I'm going into the oneness," and leaves with a bright smile. Siddhartha watches him go, seeing his steps full of peace, his head full of luster, his body full of light. Siddhartha remains at the ferry, now the ferryman himself. Years later, when his old friend Govinda comes to the river, Siddhartha tells him that he has learned most of all from the river and from his predecessor, Vasudeva, whom he calls a perfect man, a saint. Siddhartha's final teaching to Govinda—that wisdom cannot be passed on, that the opposite of every truth is just as true, that love is the most important thing—is the fruit of his long life as a ferryman, a life of listening, of loving the world as it is, and of being a part of its eternal oneness.