名著精讀:《悉達多》 兒子(5)

He did sense very well that this love, this blind love for his son, was a passion, something very human, that it was Sansara, a murky source, dark waters. Nevertheless, he felt at the same time, it was not worthless, it was necessary, came from the essence of his own being. This pleasure also had to be atoned for, this pain also had to be endured, these foolish acts also had to be committed.
Through all this, the son let him commit his foolish acts, let him court for his affection, let him humiliate himself every day by giving in to his moods. This father had nothing which would have delighted him and nothing which he would have feared. He was a good man, this father, a good, kind, soft man, perhaps a very devout man, perhaps a saint, all these there no attributes which could win the boy over. He was bored by this father, who kept him prisoner here in this miserable hut of his, he was bored by him, and for him to answer every naughtiness with a smile, every insult with friendliness, every viciousness with kindness, this very thing was the hated trick of this old sneak. Much more the boy would have liked it if he had been threatened by him, if he had been abused by him.
A day came, when what young Siddhartha had on his mind came bursting forth, and he openly turned against his father. The latter had given him a task, he had told him to gather brushwood. But the boy did not leave the hut, in stubborn disobedience and rage he stayed where he was, thumped on the ground with his feet, clenched his fists, and screamed in a powerful outburst his hatred and contempt into his father's face.
"Get the brushwood for yourself!" he shouted foaming at the mouth, "I'm not your servant. I do know, that you won't hit me, you don't dare; I do know, that you constantly want to punish me and put me down with your religious devotion and your indulgence. You want me to become like you, just as devout, just as soft, just as wise! But I, listen up, just to make you suffer, I rather want to become a highway-robber and murderer, and go to hell, than to become like you! I hate you, you're not my father, and if you've ten times been my mother's fornicator!"
Rage and grief boiled over in him, foamed at the father in a hundred savage and evil words. Then the boy ran away and only returned late at night.
But the next morning, he had disappeared. What had also disappeared was a small basket, woven out of bast of two colours, in which the ferrymen kept those copper and silver coins which they received as a fare. The boat had also disappeared, Siddhartha saw it lying by the opposite bank. The boy had ran away.
"I must follow him," said Siddhartha, who had been shivering with grief since those ranting speeches, the boy had made yesterday. "A child can't go through the forest all alone. He'll perish. We must build a raft, Vasudeva, to get over the water."
"We will build a raft," said Vasudeva, "to get our boat back, which the boy has taken away. But him, you shall let run along, my friend, he is no child any more, he knows how to get around. He's looking for the path to the city, and he is right, don't forget that. He's doing what you've failed to do yourself. He's taking care of himself, he's taking his course. Alas, Siddhartha, I see you suffering, but you're suffering a pain at which one would like to laugh, at which you'll soon laugh for yourself."
Siddhartha did not answer. He already held the axe in his hands and began to make a raft of bamboo, and Vasudeva helped him to tied the canes together with ropes of grass. Then they crossed over, drifted far off their course, pulled the raft upriver on the opposite bank.
"Why did you take the axe along?" asked Siddhartha.
Vasudeva said: "It might have been possible that the oar of our boat got lost."

他清楚地感到，這種愛，這種對兒子的盲目的愛，是一種激情，是符合人性的，它就是輪迴，一股混濁的泉，一股捉摸不透的水。但同時他又覺得，它並非毫無價值，而是必不可少的，它來源於自己的天性。這種樂趣也應滿足，這種痛苦也得品嚐，這種蠢事也該乾乾。
在這段時間裏，兒子儘讓他幹蠢事，讓他每天都忍氣吞聲地忍受兒子的壞脾氣。這個父親既沒有讓兒子喜歡的東西，也沒有讓兒子懼怕的東西。這個父親是個好人，是個善良、溫和的好人，或許是個很虔誠的人，還說不定是個聖人——然後這些品德並不能贏得孩子的心。兒子覺得父親把他困在這間可憐的茅屋裏真煩人，他討厭父親，至於父親對頑皮報以微笑，對辱罵報以友善，對惡行報以寬容，則正是這個老僞君子的最可恨的陰謀詭計。孩子倒寧可受到他的恐嚇，受到他虐待。
一天，小席特哈爾塔的這種思想終於爆發，公開反對起父親來。父親分派他幹一件活兒，叫他去拾些乾柴枝，可是孩子卻不肯出屋，執拗、惱怒地站在那兒，用腳跺地，攥緊拳頭，朝父親劈頭蓋臉地吼叫仇恨和輕蔑的話。
“你自己去拾乾柴枝吧！”他暴跳如雷，“我纔不是你的奴僕！我知道你不會打我，根本就不敢！我知道你想用你的虔誠和寬容來不斷地懲罰我，想讓我自卑。你想讓我成爲像你一樣的人，也那重頭戲虔誠，那麼溫和，那麼明智！可是我呢，你聽着，我要讓你全都，我寧可做搶劫犯和殺人兇手，下地獄，也不做像你這樣的人！我恨你，你不是我父親，哪怕你當過十次我母親的情人！”
他滿腔憤怒與怨恨，向父親咒罵了上百句粗野而惡毒的話。然後，孩子就跑掉了，直到夜裏很晚纔回來。
第二天早上，孩子又不見了。另外，一個用兩種顏色的樹皮編成的小籃子也不見了，籃子裏藏着船伕擺渡得到的銅錢與銀幣。小船也不見蹤影，後來席特哈爾塔才發現它已泊在對岸。孩子逃走了。
“我得去追他。”席特哈爾塔說，儘管他昨天聽了孩子那些罵人話後難過得直髮拌。“一個小孩子可沒法獨自穿過大森林。他會喪命的。咱們得扎個筏子，瓦蘇代瓦，渡過河去。”
“那就扎一個筏子吧，”瓦蘇代瓦說，“也好把孩子弄走的渡船劃回來。不過，你還是放孩子走吧，朋友，他不再是小孩子了，他會救護自己的。他要找到回城的路，他做的對，別忘了這點。他做的恰恰是你誤了做的事。他想要自己照顧自己，走自己的路。啊，席特哈爾塔，我看出你很難受，但你所受的苦卻是別人會笑話的，也是你自己不久就會笑話的。”
席特哈爾塔沒答話。他已經拿起了斧子，動手造一個竹筏，瓦蘇代瓦則幫他用草繩捆紮竹筏。然後，他們划向對岸，可是筏子被河水衝下去很遠，他們奮力逆流而進才使筏子到了對岸。
“你幹嗎隨身帶着斧子？”席特哈爾塔問。
瓦蘇代瓦說：“咱們船上的槳有可能已經丟了。”