The visual imagery used to describe the Buddha conveys his state of enlightenment and peace. The following passage from Chapter 3 contains Siddhartha's first impression of him:
[The Buddha's] silent face was neither cheerful nor woeful: he seemed to be smiling inwardly. With a calm, silent, hidden smile not unlike a healthy child’s, the Buddha walked, wearing the cloak and setting his feet down like all his monks, according to a precise regulation. But his face and his steps, his silently lowered gaze, his silently hanging arm, and every last finger on his silently hanging hand spoke of peace, spoke of perfection, did not seek, did not imitate, breathed gently in an everlasting calm, in an everlasting light, an inviolable peace.
The Buddha's smile exemplifies peace, calm, and perfection. He smiles inwardly, which means that his expression does not merely signal but rather signifies goodwill within. His face resembles that of a "healthy child," and every step he takes has "precise regulation." Visually speaking, every aspect of his being indicates spiritual equilibrium. In terms of auditory imagery, the narrator emphasizes the absence of sound by repeating the word "silently" in reference to his body and his gentle breathing. All of these elements remind the reader that enlightenment is an inward process, an achievement contained by a single person that sets them completely at ease. At the end of the novel, Govinda notices that Siddhartha wears the "still, fine, impenetrable, perhaps kindly, perhaps quizzical, wise, thousandfold smile of Gautama." The peace and contemplation expressed by Gautama in the first chapters find resonance in Siddhartha's own facial expressions and body language in the final chapters. This creates a sort of circular structure. In both cases, the enlightened ones are entirely at equilibrium with themselves and the world, and the visual imagery in the text helps convey their state of perfect peace.
The evolving visual imagery of the river mirrors Siddhartha's journey toward enlightenment. At first, the narrator describes the river in literal, physical terms—a more common form of visual imagery. This happens because Siddhartha sees it as a mere river; he appreciates its beauty but does not yet know its true depth or power. In Chapter 9, he gazes at the river in wonder:
Tenderly he gazed at the streaming water, at the transparent green, at the crystalline lines of its mysterious pattern. He saw bright beads rising from the depths, silent bubbles drifting on the surface, sky blue reflected there. The river gazed at him with a thousand eyes, with green, with white, with crystalline, with sky blue eyes. How he loved the water, how it delighted him, how grateful he was to it! In his heart he heard the voice speaking, the newly awakened voice, and it said to him: “Love this water! Stay with it! Learn from it!”
Here Siddhartha's wonder derives directly from the river's appearance. It contains "crystalline lines" and "silent bubbles" and many colors like "green," "white," and "sky blue." He loves the water, and it delights him, but there remains something to be discovered beyond its beauty. The "voice" that speaks within him encourages him to stay and learn the ways of the river. He later finds out that the initial experience of delight was only the beginning of his enrapturing with the river.
Later in the story, the visual imagery of the river becomes almost mystical, as characters begin to see other things in its waters. The narrator emphasizes both visual and auditory imagery as Siddhartha learns to listen to the river's flowing waters; it even seems to laugh! It also reappears in the text as a metonymy for Siddhartha's mind; Govinda sees a sort of copy of the river when he kisses Siddhartha's forehead in the final pages of Chapter 12. When his lips meet Siddhartha's forehead, Govinda sees a "streaming river of faces" and many other things, such as animals, gods, and people all coming into and out of life:
[...] all these shapes and faces rested, flowed, produced themselves and one another, floated away and poured into one another, and yet drawn over all of them there was constantly something thin, something unsubstantial, yet existing, like thin glass or ice, like a transparent skin, a shell or form or mask of water, and this mask smiled[...]
Visual imagery communicates the transparency of Govinda's vision, and the narrator compares it to "thin glass or ice" or a "mask of water." The figurative river that Govinda sees here mimics the river that Siddhartha learned to listen to. In a sense, Siddhartha has become one with the river, so when Govinda kisses his forehead, he briefly shares the vision/existence of his enlightened friend. Siddhartha's ability to see and hear beyond what he would normally perceive about the river marks his maturation and his proximity to enlightenment. Govinda never achieves such an advanced mode of perception, but he briefly experiences it through the eyes of his generous friend. In both this final scene and Siddhartha's initial experience of the river, visual imagery communicates its significance as a beautiful, mysterious, multifaceted element of the story and reflects the titular character's spiritual progress.
The evolving visual imagery of the river mirrors Siddhartha's journey toward enlightenment. At first, the narrator describes the river in literal, physical terms—a more common form of visual imagery. This happens because Siddhartha sees it as a mere river; he appreciates its beauty but does not yet know its true depth or power. In Chapter 9, he gazes at the river in wonder:
Tenderly he gazed at the streaming water, at the transparent green, at the crystalline lines of its mysterious pattern. He saw bright beads rising from the depths, silent bubbles drifting on the surface, sky blue reflected there. The river gazed at him with a thousand eyes, with green, with white, with crystalline, with sky blue eyes. How he loved the water, how it delighted him, how grateful he was to it! In his heart he heard the voice speaking, the newly awakened voice, and it said to him: “Love this water! Stay with it! Learn from it!”
Here Siddhartha's wonder derives directly from the river's appearance. It contains "crystalline lines" and "silent bubbles" and many colors like "green," "white," and "sky blue." He loves the water, and it delights him, but there remains something to be discovered beyond its beauty. The "voice" that speaks within him encourages him to stay and learn the ways of the river. He later finds out that the initial experience of delight was only the beginning of his enrapturing with the river.
Later in the story, the visual imagery of the river becomes almost mystical, as characters begin to see other things in its waters. The narrator emphasizes both visual and auditory imagery as Siddhartha learns to listen to the river's flowing waters; it even seems to laugh! It also reappears in the text as a metonymy for Siddhartha's mind; Govinda sees a sort of copy of the river when he kisses Siddhartha's forehead in the final pages of Chapter 12. When his lips meet Siddhartha's forehead, Govinda sees a "streaming river of faces" and many other things, such as animals, gods, and people all coming into and out of life:
[...] all these shapes and faces rested, flowed, produced themselves and one another, floated away and poured into one another, and yet drawn over all of them there was constantly something thin, something unsubstantial, yet existing, like thin glass or ice, like a transparent skin, a shell or form or mask of water, and this mask smiled[...]
Visual imagery communicates the transparency of Govinda's vision, and the narrator compares it to "thin glass or ice" or a "mask of water." The figurative river that Govinda sees here mimics the river that Siddhartha learned to listen to. In a sense, Siddhartha has become one with the river, so when Govinda kisses his forehead, he briefly shares the vision/existence of his enlightened friend. Siddhartha's ability to see and hear beyond what he would normally perceive about the river marks his maturation and his proximity to enlightenment. Govinda never achieves such an advanced mode of perception, but he briefly experiences it through the eyes of his generous friend. In both this final scene and Siddhartha's initial experience of the river, visual imagery communicates its significance as a beautiful, mysterious, multifaceted element of the story and reflects the titular character's spiritual progress.
