Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis is a haunting and deeply symbolic novella that delves into themes of alienation, identity, and the often cruel nature of human relationships. Originally published in 1915, the story continues to resonate today for its psychological depth, bleak humour, and powerful portrayal of the human condition.
The plot is deceptively simple: Gregor Samsa, a travelling salesman, wakes up one morning to discover he has transformed into a giant insect. Kafka famously avoids explaining how or why this transformation occurs, which adds to the surreal, dreamlike tone of the work. From the outset, Gregor’s concern isn’t the loss of his human form, but the fact that he will miss work and disappoint his employer. This absurd reaction sets the tone for a story where logic, emotion, and humanity become increasingly unrecognisable.
One of the most striking aspects of The Metamorphosis is its portrayal of alienation. Gregor is alienated not just from his job and society, but eventually from his own family. At first, his transformation provokes horror but also some sympathy from his parents and sister. However, this compassion quickly fades as the family begins to view him as a burden. His sister, Grete, initially takes care of him, but over time grows resentful and distant. Kafka paints this emotional withdrawal with subtlety and cruelty — illustrating how those closest to us can become indifferent when we no longer serve a functional role in their lives.
Kafka’s writing is stark, deliberate, and unflinching. He doesn’t embellish Gregor’s insect form with fantasy or whimsy; instead, he forces the reader to dwell in the grotesque physicality of it — the twitching legs, the difficulty of movement, the slow loss of speech. The horror is not just that Gregor has changed, but that his family no longer sees him as human. This loss of identity becomes the true tragedy of the story. Gregor remains mentally human throughout, but no one can hear or understand him. In many ways, The Metamorphosis becomes a metaphor for how people who suffer — physically, mentally, or socially — are often dehumanised and discarded.
Another powerful theme is the burden of societal and familial expectations. Before his transformation, Gregor was the sole provider for his family, working a job he despised to pay off his parents’ debts. His sense of worth is entirely tied to his ability to work. Once he becomes unable to perform that role, he is treated as useless. Kafka critiques a society that values individuals only for their productivity. This message is especially relevant in modern capitalist systems, where personal value is often linked to one’s job or economic output.
The story’s ending is as bleak as it is inevitable. Gregor dies alone and unloved, and the family expresses relief. They immediately begin to plan a better future for themselves, free from the burden he represented. It is a chilling conclusion that forces readers to question how empathy and love can so easily be replaced by convenience and self-interest.
While The Metamorphosis is undeniably dark, it is also a masterwork of literary precision and philosophical inquiry. Kafka’s ability to compress such complex emotional and existential questions into a short novella is extraordinary. His vision is as surreal as it is realistic — a mirror held up to the quiet horrors of everyday life and the fragile threads that connect us to one another.
In conclusion, The Metamorphosis is an unforgettable exploration of transformation, not just in the physical sense, but in how people change — or reveal themselves — in the face of discomfort, responsibility, and fear. Kafka’s story is disturbing, moving, and profoundly human, making it a timeless piece of literature that continues to provoke thought and discussion.
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Milton became blind in both eyes in the year 1652. He was just 43 then. But despite his blindness, Milton did not hang his boots. His blindness forced him to dictate his verses and prose to amanuenses, who then copied them out for him. Apart from his towering literary accomplishment, Milton has one more accomplishment where he stands out which is the overcoming of his blindness to continue writing. Though he had achieved due fame and recognition even before he became blind when he wrote his celebrated book Areopagitica in 1644 to condemn the pre-publication censorship, his works after he turned blind were also masterpieces. Areopagitica is among history’s most influential and impassioned defences of freedom of speech and freedom of the press. Milton acknowledged that books can harm. He opined that books are not dead items. They contain a potency of life in them. They are as active as the soul who has written them, whose progeny they are. They are as vigorous as the Dragon’s teeth. He who kills a Man kills a reasonable creature who is God’s image; but he who destroys a book kills reason itself, rather kills the image of God.
After Milton turned blind he published another masterpiece, his life’s best. This was the epic poem titled ‘Paradise Lost’ in 1667, written in blank verse at a time of immense religious flux and political upheaval. It addresses the fall of man, including the temptation of Adam and Eve plotted by the fallen angel Satan and God’s expulsion of them from the Garden of Eden. The poem opens with the lines: “Of Man’s First Disobedience, and the Fruit Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal taste Brought Death into the World, and all our woe.” The ‘first disobedience’ comes about when the devil, in the form of a serpent, tempts Eve to take and eat some fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. Eve then tells Adam what she has done and he too tastes the forbidden fruit.
English poet William Cowper, in one of his letters, addressed to one William Hayley describes his dream about Milton. He places Milton in high esteem and asks Hayley, what would he give up to have such a dream about Milton. Further, describing Milton he writes in the letter ‘He was gravely, but very neatly attired in the fashion of his day, and had a countenance which filled me with those feelings that an affectionate child has for a beloved father’. He further writes, while dreaming I first wondered, where was he, hiding for so many years. I was overjoyed to find him still alive. I was exuberant to find myself in his company and I finally accosted him. I spoke to him about ‘Paradise Lost’ and told him the long story of when I first discovered it and how it affected me as a schoolboy. Milton then grasped my hand and charmed me. I feared I might fatigue him by talking too much. I thought he was some two hundred years old, so we took leave of each other. His person, and his manner, were all so perfectly characteristic, that I’m forced to think an apparition of him could not represent him more completely. Such was Milton’s charm.
Milton’s rendezvous with literature continued further when in the year 1671, along with the publication of his title ‘Paradise Regained’ he added ‘Samson Agonistes’ which is a tragic drama. (On the title page of ‘Paradise Regained A Poem’ he added Samson Agonistes). The drama commences in medias res (in the middle of things). Samson (the last of the judges of the ancient Israelites) has been captured by the Philistines and has had his hair, the mainstay of his strength cut off and his eyes cut out. Samson is now “Blind among enemies, O worse than chains”. Near the beginning of the play, Samson humbles himself before God by admitting that his power is not his own: “God, when he gave me strength, to show withal / How slight the gift was, hung it in my hair”.
When Samson dies the speech of Samson’s father over his death is no inappropriate epitaph for Milton himself … ‘Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail/ Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, Disparate, or blame, nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble’.
In writing the poem and choosing the character of Samson as his hero, Milton perhaps was also illustrating his blindness, which afflicted him in his later life. Yet, he overcame it with his literary miracles.
Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety in content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause? The bank details are given below:
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Kamlesh Tripathi’s Publications
GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE
(The book is about a young cancer patient. Now archived in 8 prestigious libraries of the US which include Harvard College Library; Harvard University Library; Library of Congress; University of Washington, Seattle; University of Minnesota, Minneapolis; Yale University, New Haven; University of Chicago; University of North Carolina, at Chapel Hill University Libraries. It can also be accessed at MIT through Worldcat.org. Besides, it is also available for reading in libraries and archives of Canada; Cancer Aid and Research Foundation Mumbai; Jaipuria Institute of Management, Noida, India; Shoolini University, Yogananda Knowledge Center, Himachal Pradesh and Azim Premzi University, Bangalore).
ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY
(Is a book on ‘singlehood’ about a Delhi girl now archived in Connemara Library, Chennai and Delhi Public Library, GOI, Ministry of Culture, Delhi; It is also available for reading in the Indian National Bibliography, March 2016, in the literature section, in Central Reference Library, Ministry of Culture, India, Belvedere, Kolkata-700022)
AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES
(Is a fiction written around the great city of Nawabs—Lucknow. It describes Lucknow in great detail and also talks about its Hindu-Muslim amity, which is the undying characteristic of Lucknow. The book was launched at the Lucknow International Literary Festival in 2014. It is included for reading in Askews and Holts Library Services, Lancashire, U.K; Herrick District Library, Holland and Charlotte-Mecklenburg Library, Mecklenburg County in North Carolina, USA; Black Gold Cooperative Library Administration, Arroyo Grande, California; Berkeley Library, University of California).
REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD
(Co-published by Cankids–Kidscan, a pan India NGO and Shravan Charity Mission, that works for child cancer in India. The book is endorsed by Ms Preetha Reddy, MD Apollo Hospitals Group. It was launched at the Lucknow International Literary Festival in 2016).
TYPICAL TALE OF AN INDIAN SALESMAN
(Is a story of an Indian salesman who is, humbly qualified. Yet he fights his way through unceasing uncertainties to reach the top. A good read not only for salesmen. The book was launched on 10th February 2018 at Gorakhpur Lit-Fest. Now available on Amazon, Flipkart and Onlinegatha)
RHYTHM … in poems
(Published in January 2019. The book contains 50 poems. The poems describe our day-to-day life. A few poems from the book have been published in Shillong Times, Bandra Times and Bhavan’s Journal. The book is available on Amazon, Flipkart and Onlinegatha)
MIRAGE
(Published in February 2020. The book is a collection of eight short stories available on Amazon, Flipkart and Notion Press)
AWADH ASSAM AND DALAI LAMA … The Kalachakra
(The story of the man who received His Holiness The Dalai Lama and his retinue in 1959 as a GOI representative when he fled Tibet in 1959. The book was launched on 21st November 2022 by His Holiness The Dalai Lama at Dharmshala. The title is archived in the library of the Department of Information and International Relations (DIIR) Government of Tibet, Tibet Policy Institute (TPI) and the personal library of His Holiness The Dalai Lama. The title is also archived in The Ohio Digital Library, USA. It was recently included in the digital library of the world-renowned company APPLE).
BHAVANS JOURNAL
Short stories, Book reviews and Articles published in Bhavan’s Journal: 1. Reality and Perception, 15.10.19; 2. Sending the Wrong Message, 31.5.20; 3.Eagle versus Scholars June, 15 & 20, 2020; 4.Indica, 15.8.20; 5.The Story of King Chitraketu, August 31 2020; 6.Breaking Through the Chakravyuh, September 30 2020. 7. The Questioning Spouse, October 31, 2020; 8. Happy Days, November 15, 2020; 9.The Karma Cycle of Paddy and Wheat, December 15, 2020; 10.Power Vs Influence, January 31, 2021; 11.Three Refugees, March 15, 2021; 12.Rise and Fall of Ajatashatru, March 31, 2021; 13.Reformed Ruler, May 15, 2021; 14.A Lasting Name, May 31, 2021; 15.Are Animals Better Teachers? June 16, 2021; 16.Book Review: The Gram Swaraj, 1.7.21; 17.Right Age for Achievements, 15.7.21; 18.Big Things Have Small Beginnings, 15.8.21; 19.Where is Gangaridai?, 15.9.21; 20.Confront the Donkey Within You 30.9.21; 21. Know Your Strengths 15.10.21; 22. Poverty 15.11.21; 23. Top View 30.11.21; 24. The Bansuriwala 15.1.22; 25.Sale of Alaska 15.2.22; 26.The Dimasa Kingdom 28.2.22; 27. Buried Treasure 15.4.22; 28. The Kingdom of Pragjyotisha 30.4.22; 29.Who is more useful? 15.5.22; 30. The White Swan from Lake Mansarovar 30.6.22; 31. Bhool Bhulayya 15.9.22; 32. Good Karma 30.9.22; 33. Good Name vs Bad Name 15.10.22; 34.Uttarapath—The Grand Trunk Road 1.12.22; 35.When Gods Get Angry 1.1.23; 36. Holinshed’s Chronicles 15.1.23; 37. Theogony 15.2.23; 38. Poem: Mother 14.5.23; 39. THE NAG MANDIR 30.6.23; 40. The Story of Garuda 30.7.23; 41. Janmabhoomi vs Karmabhoomi 31.8.23; 42. The Ghost Town of Kuldhara 15.9.23; 43. The Tale of Genji 15.10.23; 44. The Soul Connection 1.12.23;
SHILLONG TIMES—SUNDAY EDITION
ARTICLES & POEMS: 1. POEM: HAPPY NEW YEAR 8.1.23; 2. POEM: SPRING 12.3.23; 3. POEM: RIGHT AND WRONG 20.3.23; 4. THE GUSH OF EMOTION—WRITING, 26.3.23; 5. THE NAG MANDIR, 7.5.23; 6. POEM:MOTHER 7.5.23; 7. POEM: RAIN RAIN 9.7.23; 8. POEM:YOU COME ALONE YOUGO ALONE 6.8.23; 9. RAIN RAIN (SECOND TIME) 10.8.23; 10. POEM: GURU TEACHER 10.8.23; 11. POEM: AUTUMN … THE INTERIM HEAVEN 15.10.23; 12. POEM: HAPPY DIWALI 12.11.23
29.12.2020: INDICA BY MEGASTHENES; 14.3.22: ABOUT THE DIMASA KINGDOM ASSAM; 10.12.22: GRAND TRUNK ROAD-UTTARAPATH; 5.10.23: THE GHOST TOWN OF KULDHARA NEAR JAISALMER;
(ALL THE ABOVE BOOK TITLES ARE AVAILABLE FOR SALE ON AMAZON, FLIPKART AND OTHER ONLINE STORES OR YOU COULD EVEN WRITE TO US FOR A COPY)
Finding is such pure joy. And how rare, too! It had been several years since I had picked up anything when I found a penknife, a Hindi thriller and a five rupee coin, the last named beaming at me from below the seat of a ramshackle bus plying in our very own metropolis. Recalling that Elvis ditty ‘finders keepers, losers weepers’ I closed my eyes, stiffened my sinews and commended my soul to God before picking up the coin glistening in the errant sunbeam which had chanced through one of the innumerable slits in the roof. Nobody noticed. The conductor did raise a quizzical eye brow but that was about all. The term ‘conductor’ through over use has lost its semantic substance. The fellow is basically a logistics manager and with training can outsmart any sophisticated route operator. Even a funambulist might take a cue from the number of jobs he juggles while on board the boneshaker. This perception is wholly reserved for our country. Now coming back to the treasure trove -the Hindi thriller was a disappointment- not a patch on the Col Vinod and Capt Hameed era whodunits. Hindi detective fiction since then has been on the decline, virtually on the ‘endangered species’ list. Such a sorry state is inexplicable considering the vast treasure of Indian fiction available in genres like Sorcery, Witchcraft, Tilism, and detective fiction. ‘Chandrakanta’ and ‘Bhootnath’ had once fired the imagination of generation of readers and also contributed immensely to the popularity of Hindi language. These works of Devaki Nandan Khatri have outlived the copyright regime and are in the public domain since the early 60s. That is why they were churning out Chandrakanta serials decades ago paying scant regard to the original text and plot. But perhaps I am digressing.
In a life time frittered away looking at the mirror I scarcely noticed the ‘sixpence lying at my feet’. I was never much of a chance finder. At times one does strike a gold mine but the instances are so far removed that they vanish like the may snow drift. Once while waiting to get my vintage Ambassador car serviced I came across an unclaimed copy Of Human Bondage by Somerset Maugham. I was familiar with the works of Maugham and therefore happy to add to my collection of Moon and the Sixpence and Eyeless in Gaza. The neo-intellectuals in my college days would talk of Camus, Kafka and Maugham in the same breath. Perusal of their works was considered the hallmark of intellectual prowess and was a sure passport to the local salons where deipnosophists abound. Photograph of Camus in a trench coat and fedora with a cigarette dangling loosely from the corner of the mouth, looking very much the Bogart of the noir genre, was one of the most widely reproduced photograph of the time.
HUMPHRY BOGART
God’s largesse did not end with the book. This time it was a crumpled hundred rupee note with remnants of superfine khaini , the closest western variant being the snuff, much in vogue among the aristocracy of Europe in the days of yore. This bonanza came my way while going to Ranchi town from my college campus at Mesra. It was not one of those savoury trips one looks forward to but an undignified exit due to hostel vacation orders. As the college had been closed sine die it was being hotly debated whether to push homewards or to foregather in some cosy pastoral retreat for some good times together. It all depended on the pelf and riches.
Emboldened by the find I decided to join the merry revelers, home being at ‘Lands End’. Though I put the money to good use I still haven’t been able to figure out what made the fellow to ‘crumple it’ and to tuck the promissory note under the seat. Perhaps he was a chance finder like me and had acted the way he did to avoid detection by fellow passengers. Of course he would take the booty away while disembarking. Another plausible theory was that he has merely stored the surplus khaini there for a rainy day quite forgetting the king’s ransom in the form of a crumpled note.
I might add, that now and then, perhaps a ball pen, pocket comb or a sparsely populated purse or some such trifles, no matter how well supplied one may be with, cannot be acquired without a thrill. Think of a Blackbury or a Rayban thus found. We all live and learn. A defeatist may venture something like “it takes all sorts”.
The essence of finding something which brings to us unalloyed joy is half unexpectedness and half uniqueness. There being no aposematic forecast, no intuitive premonition and the ‘gift’ coming to you by chance: no one is to be thanked, no one to be owed anything. “Something for nothing … ” Ay, there’s the rub…”. Shakespeare has put these things so beautifully. To look for the thing is to transform the whole plot-to rob it of its ‘sublime suddenness’-perchance to become even concerned or greedy.
In its larger context we may use the word discovery-something akin to Columbus discovering America or was it the West Indies. Our concern for trifles and small findings are at once so stimulating and pure joy that to meddle with it would only appeal to a killjoy. Yet there are people who have an unsavoury sense of the sport!
I recall the small rustic game or charade being played out by stringing a purse or paper money (bill or note) or any such desirable object which the casual walker gleefully stoops to pick up. The pranksters conveniently hidden from view have a field day as they pull the string leading the unsuspecting wayfarer on a merry chase. There are many clever variants which the fun-seeking lads have in their repertoire. In this cyber age of ours such diversions may seem blasé. But for a country whose half the population lives below poverty line there may still be some relevance left in such innocuous and simple pastimes.
One common thread which runs through this serendipity is the absence of haste. My once rural seat and current urban dwellings present contrasting styles in time management. Reckon a simple activity like breakfast. Absence of haste is anathema to modern spirit. For most commuters it is always charged with disturbing quiet. The unnerving scenario of buses disappearing round the corner and the cacophony of traffic jams brood over the chota hazri , transforming mild God-fearing men into wild harpies as they sprint out like bats from hell. Down at the rural seat the meals are leisurely and indolent- a perfect epitome of laid-back country life of a cultured man. It is a breakfast of ease and languescent mood, a meal of ‘soft murmurs and rustling papers’.
Circumstances afford little options. This harum-scarum age of ours has everything excepting time where brutish bolting of food is the in-thing. However, a quiet leisurely, laid- back meal by the crackling logs in winter has its unwavering charm.
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