Its common interpretations explore themes of alienation, capitalism, and existentialism.
However, for me, the tale of Gregor is more about spiritual endurance, unconditional duty, love, and detachment from the self.
The story begins with Gregor already transformed into an insect. There’s no horror or panic in him, no questioning of why or how this has happened. He simply accepts it—with quiet determination—and continues to focus on one goal: to provide for his family, no matter the situation.
He doesn’t stop to consider how his family might react or wonder if they could help him. He isn’t worried about the chief clerk either. In his mind, once he explains the delay, all will be well, and he can still make it for the 8 o’clock train.
To Gregor, his thoughts remain clear. But to others, his voice is just incomprehensible noise. They do not see a man—they see only a monster.
Yet there is no rebellion in him—not in word, not in action, not even in thought.
Has he resigned himself to his fate? Or is this the expression of his deep capacity to endure suffering without losing sight of his love and duty toward his family?
Even in this condition, Gregor thinks of how to make life easier for his sister, who brings him food. He longs to see his mother. He hides under a sheet just so she won't be distressed by his appearance. When she faints upon seeing him, he feels no anger—only understanding.
As his sister begins to tire of caring for him, as the family grows indifferent, Gregor accepts it all. No bitterness. No resentment. Just a quiet desire not to burden them further.
When he overhears them speaking of being "done" with him, when even his mother offers no protest, he makes no sound. He doesn’t blame them. He simply resigns himself and quietly breathes his last.
To me, this story reflects not the inhumanity of Gregor’s condition, but the lack of humanity in those around him. Gregor, despite his appearance, never loses his kindness or sense of duty.
This is the essence of spiritual endurance as understood in Indian philosophy—where suffering, if borne with grace, becomes a path to liberation. While Western readings may interpret the story as absurd or bleak, I see in it a quiet transcendence, an echo of the Indian concept of dharma.
Gregor Samsa’s journey—his refusal of food, detachment from the world, silent suffering, and peaceful death—mirrors the quiet path of the yogi or sanyasi, who renounces the world with no regret or resentment.
