Siddhartha

But, more than all the others, Siddhartha was loved by Govinda, his friend, the son of a Brahman.

Siddhartha already knew to feel Atman in the depths of his being, indestructible, one with the universe.

Govinda loved Siddhartha's sweet voice, he loved his walk and the perfect decency of his movements, he loved everything Siddhartha did and said and what he loved most was his spirit, his transcendent, fiery thoughts, his ardent will, his high calling.

In the shade of the house, in the sunshine of the riverbank near the boats, in the shade of the Sal-wood forest, in the shade of the fig tree is where Siddhartha grew up, the handsome son of the Brahman, the young falcon, together with his friend Govinda, son of a Brahman.

Siddhartha bathed in the river, performing the sacred ablutions, the sacred offerings.

His mother's heart beat happier when she saw Siddhartha, strong and handsome, walking with light and agile steps, sitting and standing with elegance, or greeting her with deep respect.