名著精讀:《悉達多》 沙門(3)

And Govinda mumbled a verse to himself, a verse from an Upanishad:

He who ponderingly, of a purified spirit, loses himself in the meditation of Atman, unexpressable by words is his blissfulness of his heart.

But Siddhartha remained silent. He thought about the words which Govinda had said to him and thought the words through to their end.

Yes, he thought, standing there with his head low, what would remain of all that which seemed to us to be holy? What remains? What can stand the test? And he shook his head.

At one time, when the two young men had lived among the Samanas for about three years and had shared their exercises, some news, a rumour, a myth reached them after being retold many times: A man had appeared, Gotama by name, the exalted one, the Buddha, he had overcome the suffering of the world in himself and had halted the cycle of rebirths. He was said to wander through the land, teaching, surrounded by disciples, without possession, without home, without a wife, in the yellow cloak of an ascetic, but with a cheerful brow, a man of bliss, and Brahmans and princes would bow down before him and would become his students.

This myth, this rumour, this legend resounded, its fragrants rose up, here and there; in the towns, the Brahmans spoke of it and in the forest, the Samanas; again and again, the name of Gotama, the Buddha reached the ears of the young men, with good and with bad talk, with praise and with defamation.

It was as if the plague had broken out in a country and news had been spreading around that in one or another place there was a man, a wise man, a knowledgeable one, whose word and breath was enough to heal everyone who had been infected with the pestilence, and as such news would go through the land and everyone would talk about it, many would believe, many would doubt, but many would get on their way as soon as possible, to seek the wise man, the helper, just like this this myth ran through the land, that fragrant myth of Gotama, the Buddha, the wise man of the family of Sakya. He possessed, so the believers said, the highest enlightenment, he remembered his previous lives, he had reached the nirvana and never returned into the cycle, was never again submerged in the murky river of physical forms. Many wonderful and unbelievable things were reported of him, he had performed miracles, had overcome the devil, had spoken to the gods. But his enemies and disbelievers said, this Gotama was a vain seducer, he would spent his days in luxury, scorned the offerings, was without learning, and knew neither exercises nor self-castigation.

The myth of Buddha sounded sweet. The scent of magic flowed from these reports. After all, the world was sick, life was hard to bear--and behold, here a source seemed to spring forth, here a messenger seemed to call out, comforting, mild, full of noble promises. Everywhere where the rumour of Buddha was heard, everywhere in the lands of India, the young men listened up, felt a longing, felt hope, and among the Brahmans' sons of the towns and villages every pilgrim and stranger was welcome, when he brought news of him, the exalted one, the Sakyamuni.

The myth had also reached the Samanas in the forest, and also Siddhartha, and also Govinda, slowly, drop by drop, every drop laden with hope, every drop laden with doubt. They rarely talked about it, because the oldest one of the Samanas did not like this myth. He had heard that this alleged Buddha used to be an ascetic before and had lived in the forest, but had then turned back to luxury and worldly pleasures, and he had no high opinion of this Gotama.

"Oh Siddhartha," Govinda spoke one day to his friend. "Today, I was in the village, and a Brahman invited me into his house, and in his house, there was the son of a Brahman from Magadha, who has seen the Buddha with his own eyes and has heard him teach. Verily, this made my chest ache when I breathed, and thought to myself: If only I would too, if only we both would too, Siddhartha and me, live to see the hour when we will hear the teachings from the mouth of this perfected man! Speak, friend, wouldn't we want to go there too and listen to the teachings from the Buddha's mouth?"

這時，戈文達喃喃地念了起來，那是《奧義書》裏的兩行話:

誰沉思默想，心靈淨化，潛心於阿特曼，

他心中的幸福就難以用言語來表達。

可是，席特哈爾塔卻默默不語。他仔細地思索戈文達對他說的話，從頭到尾地琢磨這些話。

他低着頭站在那兒，心想，是的，我們覺得神聖的一切還會剩下什麼呢?有什麼能留下來呢?有什麼能經得住考驗呢?他搖了搖頭。後來，在這兩個年輕人和沙門一起生活並苦修了將近三年時，通過各種渠道傳來了一個消息，一個流言，一個傳聞:有一個名叫戈塔馬的人，是個高僧、活佛，他在自己身上克服了塵世的煩惱，終於使再生之輪停了焉熗 四處講學，漫遊全國，受信徒愛戴，沒有產業，沒有家園，沒有妻室，身穿苦行僧的黃僧衣，但是他額頭開朗愉快，是個得道之人，婆羅門和王公貴族在他面前都十分謙恭，願意做他的弟子。

這個傳聞，這個流言，這個說法，四處流傳，沸沸場場，在城裏有婆羅門講，在森林裏有沙門講，活佛戈塔馬的名字再三傳到這兩人年輕人耳中，有好壞也有壞話，有讚頌也有誹謗。

就好像瘟疫正在某個國家肆虐，這時忽然傳出消息，有某一個人，一個賢人，一個行家，他的話語和氣息就足以治好每一個受到瘟疫侵襲的人。這消息傳遍了全國，人人都在談論，好多人相信，好多人懷疑，還有好多人立即動身去尋訪這個賢人和救星。就這樣，全國都傳遍了這個消息，這個出身於釋迦牟尼家族的戈塔馬活佛的美好傳聞。信徒們都說，他已經掌握了最高的知識，他刻自己前世之事，他已經達到了涅PAN，永遠不會再回到輪迴之中，永遠不會再陷入萬物的濁流了。到處都流傳着許多有關他的驚人的、不可思議的消息，說他創造了奇蹟，制服了妖魔，曾經跟神聖對過話。但是，他的敵人和對頭則說，這個戈塔馬是個自命不凡的騙子，過着舒適的日子，忽視祭祀，沒有學問，不懂 得苦修也不懂得清心寡慾。

關於活佛的傳聞聽起來十分悅耳，從這些說法中散發出迷人的馨香。這個世界出了毛病，生活簡直讓人難以忍受 可是你瞧，這裏似乎涌出了一股清泉，似乎響起了一聲使者的呼喚，令人欣慰而柔和，充滿了高雅的承諾。關於活佛的傳言到處傳播，印度各地的年輕人都十分關注，感覺到渴求，感覺到希望。在城鄉的婆羅門子弟當中，朝聖者和外來人都受到熱烈的歡迎，只要他們能帶來有關那位活佛的消息。

這傳聞也傳到了森林裏的沙門這兒，傳到了席特哈爾塔和戈文達耳中。它是緩慢地點滴地傳來的，每一滴都難以置信，每一滴又難以置疑。在他們之間很少談論這件事，因爲那個老沙門不喜歡這個傳聞。他聽說，那個所謂的活佛以前 個苦行僧，在森林裏生活過，可是後來又回頭過上了舒適的生活，尋歡作樂，因此他很瞧不起那個戈塔馬。

“哦，席特哈爾塔，”戈文達有一次對他的朋友說，“今天我到了村子裏，一個婆羅門請我到他家，他家有個剛從馬加達回來的婆羅門子弟。此人親眼見過那位活佛，聆聽過他的教誨。說真話，當時我激動得連喘氣都感到胸口痛，我暗自想:但願我，但願我們倆， 席特哈爾塔和我，也能有機會聆聽到那位完人的親口哮誨!你說吧，朋友，咱們要不要也到那兒去，聽活佛親口講經?”