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Ram Goli
Ms. Gardner
English 10H 2
13 May 2014
The Paradox of Love Through the Eyes of Siddhartha, Pip, and Abel
I searched endlessly for several, several years, searching for the truth about myself. I
searched for the truth of Self, of Atman, the one truth that would fill my every breath with
wisdom and clarity. I loved, loved foolishly and passionately, yet I refused to love. I knew that
love would bring about my end, for to achieve enlightenment, I must refute love, as love only
brings suffering. I loved Govinda, loved him richly, but I knew that love would only deter me
from my quest for enlightenment. He wished to leave, and who was I to stop him? I loved him,
and I would not stand before him. I suppressed my love, and saw him off proudly to join the
Buddhas followers, to spread the teachings of the Illustrious One, an act I could not do, and an
act my Self would forbid me from. Oh, Kamala, the soft-spoken rose whose red lips were kissed
by fair Lakshmi herself, an idol of beauty and perfection. Oh, how I loved her, and wanted to
love her. But I could not love her; I could not love her Self, her endless riches and lavishing
possessions. That was not who I was. I was only in love with her beauty. I could not love her, as
doing so would cause me suffering. I found that I only loved one thing: the River. I loved the
way it kissed the banks, the way it housed all of nature, of all eternity, and all existence. I had
preached the abstinence from love, yet found myself overcome with the River. It stood for all,
and for the Self, and I was hopelessly in love. I had, for the longest time, traveled the river, never
recognizing its offerings, but it guided me all along.
- Siddhartha
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Estella was very pretty. She reminded me of a twinkling star, of a happy and nice face
that shined from the moon. She was beautiful, and she was very much in love with herself. But I
loved her, and I was certain I was going to marry her. She was a delight. But there was a slight
problem. Her mommy is rich very very rich. I loved her a lot, but I would never be with her.
She kept me away from my real love, but I never knew that. When I arrived in London, awaiting
the new phase in my life as an esteemed gentleman, my mind, and my apartment, instantaneously
filled itself with pleasure and riches. I gazed lovingly at the plush furniture that filled my living
space, at the busy streets of London, cluttered with people walking to and fro, and at the money
that continuously found its way into my pocket from my generous benefactor. My love for
Estella flowered as she became more beautiful, proud and refined. As I fell for her deeper and
deeper though, I became more removed from Joe and the forge. I lost touch with their Kent style
of living, and grew ashamed of Joes colloquial behavior. Nevertheless, I feel madly in love with
Estella, until I saw the evil that tainted her heart. Estella had trapped me, imprisoned me from
recognizing the love I still possessed for the marshes of Kent. I was so overcome with wealth and
riches that I failed to appreciate those that Kent offered me, those that Joe and Biddy and Mrs.
Joe had provided for me for countless years. Love had disillusioned me, yet it brought me back
to the forge that I had left once ago.
-Philip Pirrup

The war changed me. It left me lost. I do not feel that I belong with my brothers in
Walatowa. I know not of their hunting ways, of the Eagle Watchers Society I once rode through
the desert plains with. I know not of the Chicken Pull. I was once champion, but I am now an
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outcast. I know nothing. I know not of my grandfather, Francisco; he is the man who raised me
with gentle arms, yet he is a stranger to my white eyes. The albino, I killed him, and I know not
why. He was not one of me, of my brothers. But was I? He was no longer recognizable. Or was I
the one who could not be recognized? I was no longer one with the plains and deserts of
Walatowa. I lost sight of Francisco. I searched for a place to belong. The group of Indians in Los
Angeles secluded me, left me to wither and dry in the unwelcome air of Los Angeles because I
am a Longhair. I am not modern, nor am I a Native American. Yet when the news of my
grandfathers illness fell upon me, I discovered. My love for my grandfather brought me back to
Earth, to the luscious landscape of Walatowa, to the river where Vidal, my brother, and would
watch the annual spring run-off. There was where my place resided. I sent my grandfather off
with the Dawnrunners. I know now that the further I was thrust away, the closer I came to
myself. I searched for years for a home, always neglected, all the while growing closer to my
culture and people. Love for my grandfather brought me home the home that I had searched
for, yet was always present. I never realized.
-Abel