It Can Happen to You | The Metamorphosis of Human Nature
I am writing perhaps after a very long time, in comparison to my habit some months ago when I would find myself typing out my thoughts every now and then and staining the digital pages with black letters. But now that I am putting the words out once again, I realise that I am still alive, that I am a writer, and I have the life coursing through my veins, of which I must make known the presence.
However, the thing that got me feeling this peculiar way isn’t something less from extraordinary itself – it is, in fact, one of the greatest works humankind has and will ever see or produce. It has only been a few minutes since I finished reading The Metamorphosis, and Kafka’s portrayal of a superficial society and the ever-present and luring darkness within the human heart has done its work in the most efficient way possible. I have had no dream of him appearing to tell me in detail about the nuances of things he wished to bring to light in the book, but I am certain that he has succeeded.
Although I am happy for him, I am not happy for myself and our race of humans, and I doubt he was either. To think that the well regards of your friends and family, and even the strangers you meet, all depend on the state of your being and your fortune and can transform itself into something extremely different in no time is extremely unsettling. The very fickle nature of human love, loyalty, affection and kindness trouble me, as do the things that people are capable of. History documents numerous incidents of heartless violence and pain inflicted by various men and women on their fellow beings, of creatures of the same species as them, creatures who feel pain and mistreatment and hurt severely, and all this those men and women obviously did without the slightest care for those people. The fact that we can shut the thought of any sympathy or compassion we can feel for humans and animals out of our minds and go on torturing and killing them is both petrifying and sorrowful.
Therefore, I am not glad, and on the contrary, I am a mix of several emotions and feelings – anxious, sad, detached, and heartbroken. You would wonder what the book could possibly say to surface these thoughts above my skin. Well, imagine Gregor Samsa, toiling arduously every day as a salesman, catching the train at 6 o’clock in the morning, travelling to different towns in his occupation, and carrying this out for several years without calling sick once, all to provide his parents and younger sister with a decent accommodation and peaceful life. Now, one morning, of the most supernatural (and of course completely unheard of) misfortune, Gregor turns into a horrible vermin, perhaps like a beetle or moth, but bigger in size. There begins the story of his mistreatment, including physical inflictions, seclusion, disregard, and desertion. Although Gregor tries many times to remind them that he is still human in his mind, and he can feel love and care for his family and has only intentions and continues to worry about their well-being and wants to help, he is not successful in doing so. He spends his days locked in his room and kept alive by the food brought by his sister, although later he stops eating anymore.
By the end of the story, the family accepts and becomes vocal about the opinion that he is but only a pain in the household and it cannot do to continue to live on without getting rid of the monstrous creature that now Gregor is by the appearance and ability. It is heartbreaking to see that the idea was proposed by his younger sister, who is talented at playing violin and who Gregor was secretly planning to send to music conservatory to pursue further studies before he transformed into vermin (although it was impossible for him to arrange the money because it was quite a lot but he was going to do that somehow, nevertheless), and who he loved unconditionally.
The novella ends with Gregor dying of starvation and bad health in his room now piled up with all kinds of things not in use and dust that has accumulated, all alone, unable to move an inch as his tiny legs give up as a consequence of injuries and infection, and his back patched with something white, perhaps fungus, that grew on the spot where the apple, shot on him by his father, still stuck after several days. What becomes more unbearable to watch is as the three that remain, the parents and the daughter, begin to plan their life ahead without no proper memorial, and Gregor’s insect body is taken care of by the cleaner, in what way, not described to the reader, and perhaps haphazardly.
So, in the end, Gregor is just forgotten. He is gone, poof, into the wind, just like that. We live this life believing we have people who care about us, who will be there for us. However, human feelings like love and care are always in for a big change, and it should never surprise us when they morph into something of another extreme. Perhaps emotions like empathy and compassion are not strong and fundamental to the human mind and are often taken over by much stronger emotions like desire, fear, and anger, or perhaps it is our tendency to let them take over us.
Although that is true, it is quite hard to accept because the idea of my loved ones turning on me is an idea that haunts me and keeps me awake at night. Sometimes, I wonder if I might be living in a world without true love and compassion. There is no denying that what happened to Gregor Samsa can happen to me, you or anyone, and it breaks me down to know that this is the kind of world we live in.
– Grey RB
