Kafka and Hawthorne in the Time of Covid – A Personal Experience

One of the most poignant scenes in literature is in Kafka’s Metamorphosis, where Gregor Samsa’s parents, who are heartbroken and embarrassed by his physical transformation into a disgusting insect, take the painful decision of confining him to his room in their own home.

One may ponder deeply about the meaning of this surreal and symbolic story, but it is unlikely that any reader would ever expect anything even remotely similar to happen to him or her in real life.

As a preface, the unexpected virus lockdown has left me stranded overseas with my extended family on the other side of the world, unable to return home. The original three-week itinerary has now breached the forty-fourth week and has still not ended.

It all started innocently enough. Six weeks earlier, the entire household and I were required to physically present ourselves at a government office for the completion of a property registration that had been hanging fire for over two decades. As may be expected from government offices in this part of the world, hopes of a quick denouement were completely unfounded. What ultimately took less than ten minutes to complete, was preceded by a wait of nearly four hours, that seemed even more interminable as we had to stand outdoors the entire time in the open sun, the entrance to the office being restricted because of the pandemic. Why seating—even plain benches—could not be provided to the waiting public, I do not know.

That very night I felt unwell. Initially, I attributed this to the physical exhaustion of standing for so long after weeks of sloth. But by the third day I had all the symptoms of what was going around. I was clearly unwell—yet in denial. Days later, after things got worse, I finally went to a hospital, but, surprisingly, they did not run the test. I went twice more in the next ten days—still no test, inexplicably.

Then the mother of the house, who had shown no signs of being unwell, tested positive when she went to the hospital for an unrelated complaint. She had to be immediately isolated within the house. This set off a harrowing chain of events. That evening, over the public address system of the locality, loudspeakers pointing in four directions, trumpeted out our names and declared our house a “micro-containment” area, out of bounds for everyone else.

Our woes did not end there. The rest of the family had now to be tested. All (including me—to everyone’s surprise) came through negative, except the youngest, the most jovial and ebullient of the lot. Now he too had to be isolated within the home—but separate from his mother. The public loudspeakers blared yet again. The light and the skies seemed unreal. To me it was a present-day way of public shaming in this part of the world, not unlike Hester Prynne’s fate in The Scarlet Letter.

Needless to say, this was an exceedingly difficult time for us. We were all in the same home, yet unable to even see the two in isolation, let alone be close to them. We talked to them through the walls and using CB radio. And we were cut off from the rest of the society. The plights of Gregor Samsa and Hester Prynne had come alive in our own lives.

Since we were prohibited from stepping outside our gates, provisions could not be replenished and soon threatened to run out. Supplies had to be surreptitiously dropped off over the gates at night by caring friends and relatives. Others in a similar situation may not have been so lucky. Time hung heavy like never before. We pined for the two in isolation, but we ourselves were incarcerated too.

Eighteen long days passed in this fashion. Then, the following morning, over the same public loudspeakers, we heard our names announced, and of the lifting of the isolation and quarantine that had been peremptorily imposed on us.

We were once again free to resume our lives. When the family reunited, our joy knew no bounds. It was like meeting each other after many months, or even years. With joy, came also a far greater appreciation of the values of freedom and dignity—and empathy for those unjustly locked behind bars.