I remember how as a child, when I first understood death, I tormented myself by imagining my death, or the death of people close to me, how the loneliness and horror of bereavement gripped my innocent heart and how I have cried for these frightening images. Last night, I was that child again. Its only last night, it dawned to me, that how easy it is for us, the humans, the self-proclaimed children of God, to torment those we once loved, when they become a burden. How easy it is for us to forget in the moment of revulsion for everything that is ugly to our eyes, that hideous and beautiful belongs equally to God.
It was not the metamorphosis of Gregor Samsa from human to a monstrous, revolting vermin that killed him. It was the metamorphosis of his family, from supposed love to disgust, that took his life. The family, who failed to recognize the lingering humanity beneath his appalling outward appearance. Despite his hopes and best intentions to be the bread-earner of the family again, and his desperate attempt to hold onto a few remainders of his humanity, the outright disgust of his father, the fear of his mother and the transformation of his sister Grete, compels him to accept death for the best interest of his family, which he did, with deep emotions and love. Grete, who initially showed great care for her brother, her neglect for him and the way she shouted that she wanted to get rid of him, was more grotesque than the revulsion of others. And what was his fault? Only that he showed his disgusting face, in a desperate attempt to convey his love for her, and to tell her how much he loved the way she played the violin?
The next morning, the family is relieved to find him dead.
- Shruti Srivastava
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