This has by far been the most exciting part of the book, which, according to me, has pretty much reached its end, and it’s like the line has ended and we’re just waiting for the full-stop. I personally think it would be criminal on the part of the author to give Grushenka Svetov another change of a heart that she has found in her only now, in which context I’d like to say that Dostoevsky has indeed swung things to ‘my’ favour. The bloodiest of battles have been fought over women, and it’s undeniable that a man can derive no other point in life except one revolving around the woman of his dreams or of his reality, or power and control over an inanimate piece of land, which I think is less justified than fighting for the covet of as tangible (to intangible proportions) a being as the feminine. Dmitry Karamazov, the silent participant, had won this battle that he didn’t even fight in, but which incidentally proves to incriminate him before the eyes of the apparent judicial system. The process would of course be interesting to intimidating extents, but the outcome matters not for the road ahead has been decided.
This is precisely the point that my admiration for both ‘The Brothers Karamazov’ and its author Fyodor Dostoevsky peaked, the point where the motive behind the entire plot came forth and stared at me in the face. The point where Dmitry admits and elucidates that he would gladly go to prison, the liberated soul that he is recently found to be, given that the man he thought he had killed had surprisingly survived and had even recovered enough to testify against him, and that he would do the same because although he wasn’t guilty of his father’s murder, he was indeed guilty of planning it and of ‘almost executing’ it before he was stopped by ‘divine intervention’ as he puts it (although not exactly in these words). That had been what I had stressed in my previous post, where I said that the criminal in this case (not yet identified) has lesser crime to his credit than Dmitry (although his heart edges towards the righteous side now) who, with the whole of his heart, had intended to bring about the death of his father, an Oedipal exclusion for the sake of his love and hence, he, burdened with a higher amount of guilt, has to face punishment for ‘cleansing his soul’. The part ends with Dmitry leaving for prison, not without twists though, and with Grushenka assuring him with utmost honesty that her journey ahead would forever include being by his side.
This has been the only part (of the three that I’ve done) where I felt absolute glee when coming out. And although it could look to be a complete depiction of romance and spite, it also has substantial parts played by the younger brothers Alexei (the dialogue with Grushenka) and Ivan (by kindly stepping out of the picture for the time being). Yet, nothing could possibly overshadow the happiness felt when I read that “Mitya’s kiss tore her lips” and it was a gigantic haul of joy, climactic with its pleasure, and I kind of figured that from then, even if he were ‘to be executed’, he would die a happy man and I guess that pretty much, so would I (‘die’ in my case refers to ‘closing the book’). Yes, there’s still an ample amount of story coming, an open murder investigation whose prospect could incite authors to write volumes, in which case I’m glad that Dostoevsky kept aside merely a quarter of his novel to it, possibly even lesser considering there are other more important affairs.
Fyodor Karamazov, either way, would never rest in peace. Not when he had been killed by the ‘devil himself’.
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