Siddhartha walks into the forest knowing the merchant, gambler, and perfumed self is finished. The dream bird is dead; Sansara feels like poison drunk to the dregs, and he is full of misery the way a sponge is full of water. He no longer wants hunger, sleep, women, or tomorrow; he wants annihilation and spits at his reflection in the river. Nothing in the world can attract or comfort him anymore.
At the forest river, the same water he crossed as a youth, he embraces a coconut trunk and stares into green current, ready to let go. Om rises from deep memory and shocks him out of suicide; he sees how foolish it was to seek death the way a tired child seeks sleep, and remembers Brahman and indestructible life in a flash. He collapses and sleeps without dreams for hours.
Govinda, now a pilgrim monk, guards him all night without recognizing the rich man's clothes or scented hair. At dawn Siddhartha speaks his name; Govinda is joyful and baffled, cannot understand this friend who is no longer Brahmin, Samana, or rich man, only a traveler in fine shoes, and goes on with his brothers. Alone again, hunger and laughter return; fasting, waiting, and thinking have abandoned him along with the vices he once mastered. He feels like a child under the sky, not wise, but present again.
Siddhartha reviews offerings, asceticism, Buddha, Kamala, and Kamaswami, and calls the detour necessary: he had to sin, gamble, and sink to unlearn arrogance and become a child who can start over. The priest inside him had to die in excess before a new self could wake. He praises himself for following the bird in his chest again, hears his stomach rumble, and understands why teachers could not save him: he had to drown the proud priest in pleasure before the listener in him could wake. Old Siddhartha drowned here; new Siddhartha will learn from the same current. He smiles at the river going downhill, happy like the water, and decides to stay by the stream that nearly took him and learn from it instead of fighting it.