The time came to take Siddhartha to the temple of the Gods. By the king’s command, the streets of the city and the public squares were superbly decorated; drums were sounded and bells joyously rung. While Mahaprajapati was dressing him in his richest apparel, the child asked: “Mother, where are you taking me?”
“To the temple of the Gods, my son,” she replied. The child smiled and quietly went with her to meet his father.
Source: Siddhartha at the Temple
THE prince grew older, and the time came for him to study with the teacher who instructed the young Sakyas in the art of writing. This teacher was called Visvamitra. Siddhartha was entrusted to his care. He was given, to write on, a tablet of gilded sandal-wood, set round with precious stones. When he had it in his hands, he asked: “Which script, master, would you have me learn?”
And he enumerated the sixty-four varieties of script. Then again he asked: “Master, which of the sixty-four would you have me learn?”
Visvamitra made no answer: he was struck dumb with astonishment. Finally, he replied: “I see, my lord, that there is nothing I can teach you. Of the scripts you mentioned, some are known to me only by name, and others are unknown to me even by name. It is I who should sit at your feet and learn. No, my lord, there is nothing I can teach you.”
Source: Siddhartha’s First Mediation