It has been a few days since Kamala's funeral. I welcomes the young Siddhartha, my son, to stay with Vasudeva and I in the hut. I see that he is suffering from grief. He doesn't talk to me or Vasudeva. Instead he just sits on the hill of the dead, and I leave him alone because I understand that he doesn't love me or wants to accept me as his father.
I also understand that he was a spoiled eleven year old. He was used to finer things that I cannot offer him here, but I offer him the best of what we have. I don't think winning him over with love and patience is working though. He seems so unhappy and defiant towards me. He has no respect towards me, but I will not give up on trying to win him over.
I can see what Vasudeva is thinking when he sees my son being disrespectful, but he hasn't ever said anything. Finally he spoke to me and told me that I should let the boy go if he wishes.
It didn't matter if I gave him permission to go back to his town where his servants would take care of him because he ran away. He stole our boat and crossed the river in the direction of his home town. Vasudeva and I had to make a bamboo raft to cross the river and retrieve the boat. When we crossed, I walked through the forest in the direction of the town.
Once I got there, I realized I could not make young Siddhartha love me or stay with me. I sat on the road for many hours meditating. I was brought out of my trance by the familiar voice of my good friend Vasudeva.I shared with him one of the bananas an ascetic had laid down in front of me then we headed back towards our small hut.
This journal shows very deep feelings, after Kalama has died. It is very sad that Siddhartha is trying to be a good father but his son isn't accepting it. Great way of expressing feelings!
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