Deepak Chopra - Buddha - A Story of Enlightenment

Channa managed to crack a smile. “I also assume you know that someone’s staring at you. It’s a mistake, I’m sure. She thinks you’re me.”

A girl had escaped notice following Siddhartha to the stables. Channa didn’t know who she was, but as soon as he turned his head Siddhartha recognized Sujata. She stood shyly in the shadows of a large tree, but the moment their eyes met, she let the blue silk that half-covered her face drop. Siddhartha was at a loss. “What’s she doing here?” he mumbled.

“I don’t know. I guess she couldn’t help herself.” Channa laughed and gave Siddhartha a hit on the shoulder. “You’ve still got a little time. Go on.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. Go ahead.” Channa was smirking now, and as happens between two young males who talk about everything except that, his look said, You don’t know all about women yet? You’d better believe I do. They were both fairly sure that the other was still a virgin, but Siddhartha nursed a suspicion that Channa had more opportunities than he did belowstairs in the kitchen and scullery, while Channa suspected that Siddhartha had more chances than he did in the pleasure pavilion by the lotus pond. This unspoken doubt created a secret between them when there was no secret to begin with. Neither one dared to find out that the other knew almost nothing about women.

“Let her come to me if she wants to,” Siddhartha declared. He hoped he could save face and at the same time not risk approaching Sujata-not now, with someone watching. Luckily, he didn’t have to. She took a deep breath and came to him. Throwing aside the daintiness of court women who acted as if a stable was unholy ground, Sujata walked up to them with her eyes fixed on Siddhartha.

“I came to wish you well. Please be safe today,” she said, her words coming out a bit too fast and too loud, as words do when they are practiced in advance.

Siddhartha cursed himself inside, knowing that Channa could see him blush. All he needed to say was “Thank you,” but confusion made him stammer, “Why would you think I’m not safe?” His tone was brusque, and Sujata turned a deep scarlet. Humiliation took her breath away, and Siddhartha died inside that he was the cause. “I mean-” he said, and stopped. Nobody knew what he meant, least of all himself.

It’s unclear whether Channa chose that moment for his first attack of chivalry, but he coughed and muttered, “I have to find a new bridle. This one’s too loose.” Then he was gone, and the two were left alone together. Embarrassment momentarily blinded Siddhartha, but as his sight cleared the first thing he became aware of was Sujata’s beauty. It had been enough to make him notice her, then to chase her through the maze. A cloud passed over him with that memory. He took a step back.

Sujata had been looking for the slightest sign of approval, and this step crushed her hopes. “I shouldn’t have come. If you can forgive me-”

“There’s nothing to forgive. There could never be anything to forgive.” Siddhartha had no idea why he blurted out those last words. But now that they were out, he took the plunge. “I’ve wanted to see you for a long time. I didn’t know if it was right or not. But I’m glad you came today, very glad.”

Although Sujata maintained her shy posture, head ducked down between fallen shoulders, she was thrilled. Something had kept her awake at night. She had decided to trust this something, and now Siddhartha was smiling at her. She became painfully aware of his lean, muscular body, disguised though it was under his armor. There are dams that crack and dams that break open without warning. Hers was the second kind. “I think about you all the time. I’ve come to your room at night, but then I run away. What can I do? This is too impossible. We can’t be together, but I think about you all the time. Oh, I already said that. You must think I’m stupid.”

“No, not at all.” Siddhartha in fact was delighted with everything Sujata blurted out. When babble is like music, love can’t be far away. He wanted to throw off his armor and embrace her, because he was as aware of her pale breasts and the soft flow of her hips as she was of him. Siddhartha had never heard of skin hunger, but he felt it now as strongly as he had ever felt anything. Instinctively his hand moved around to the side of his chest plate, fumbling for the leather ties. “Why can’t we be together? My father doesn’t have to know.”

“Oh.” A shadow suddenly darkened Sujata’s face. Siddhartha seemed so eager, yet he was thinking about his father and the disapproval that would fall on them if anyone thought she loved a prince. Which meant that Siddhartha was aware, even at that moment, of the huge difference between them. “I can’t stay,” she murmured. She could already feel the sting of contempt that the court would direct at her. And then there was her secret, the thing nobody suspected.

Siddhartha grabbed Sujata’s arm before she could turn away. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re going to faint. What did I say?”

“The king.” With that, Sujata burst into tears and ran away. Siddhartha was confused and hurt, but at that moment Channa returned holding a new bridle. “Do you want this?” he asked.

“Of course not. You know as well as I do.” Instead of thanking Channa for his discretion, Siddhartha sounded angry. He had made some kind of unwitting, disastrous blunder with Sujata, but there was no time to run after her. “Help me up,” he said curtly.

Without a word Channa bent down and made a step with his two hands so that Siddhartha could mount Kanthaka with his full weight of armor. The layers of ox-hide padding creaked as he settled into the saddle. Siddhartha galloped off toward the field, not waiting for the equerries who were supposed to surround him in procession. His mind was preoccupied with the image of Sujata’s pained expression and the guilt of knowing that he had caused it. However long he was lost in this mood, he suddenly became aware of his surroundings. People were gathered on either side of the tournament field, the nobles seated in a grandstand, the common people standing or sitting on the ground on the opposite side, unprotected from the sun. A cheer went up when the crowd caught sight of the prince; he automatically went through the motions of a well-rehearsed scenario.

The king was waiting impatiently for his son’s arrival. The day had turned hot, the sun a fierce white disc burning in the sky. He rose to his feet as Siddhartha approached, and he had to admit to himself that the crown prince made a fine show on the white stallion. If only he kept his nerve and did what was necessary.

Siddhartha bowed. “I dedicate my victories to Your Highness and pledge that every glory in war, however many battles I am privileged to fight, will be for you and your kingdom.”

Suddhodana returned a gracious smile and waved Siddhartha off toward the field of combat. He had written the speech himself, but the boy could have spoken it louder, and he had forgotten to rise up in his stirrups and swivel around to catch the eye of every noble spectator. No matter, Suddhodana thought, driving from his mind the fear that Siddhartha might fail him.

To his relief, everything went as planned. Blood was soon drawn in the hand-to-hand combats, just enough to whet the spectators’ appetites. He had ordered that dangerous weapons could be used, the kind rarely used in mock battle. There was a knife-edged discus that could be thrown hard enough to decapitate an enemy, a lash with multiple barbs at the end that tore off any flesh it made contact with, a heavy two-sided ax capable of piercing any armor, even bronze, a nailed mace, and a rippled dagger that ripped muscles apart both as it went in and as it was pulled out. His soldiers wouldn’t have thrown themselves into using these weapons of horror, but Suddhodana had made sure they were tempted with huge rewards, and in addition their food supply was allowed to dwindle so that every rice larder and meat chest was empty that morning, just in case they forgot who sustained them.