Father's Shirt | Gopi Kottoor

THE FOLLOWING POEM BY GOPI KOTTOOR OF TRIVANDRUM, KERALA WON THE THIRD PRIZE OF TWENTY FIVE THOUSAND RUPEES IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2020

Gopi Kottoor writes a poem that tingles a memory everyone must have of their fathers. The poet wore their father’s shirt that was pegged on the clothesline which was wet because the mother had forgotten to take it back inside while it rained. The shirt was bulging at the arms and at the paunch. The paunch where the globe spun when the poet laid by the father’s side and heard him snore. The snore is described to have a certain kind of music. The poet remembers the father who would wake up hurriedly and shower then rush to the prayer room. The father combed his bald head and proceeded to wear his shirt, the same shirt that the poet is wearing which had bulging arms and a paunch that was left in the pouring rain by the forgetful mother. The poet became the father’s ghost by wearing his shirt that day.

The poem is strikingly beautiful and sentimental. It reminds us of our fathers and their normal usual activities that makes fathers memorable. The comparison of the snoring to the music of a bird is a reminder that it will be missed once it stops. It is like a metaphor that the poet has grown to take on the role and responsibilities of the father by wearing and becoming the father’s shirt. It also mentions that the mother forgot the shirt in the rain which can be a mention of how busy a mother is. The poem is a beautiful reminder to cherish and enjoy with our fathers while they’re around.

Father's shirt

Pegged on the clothesline.

I remember the day

I wore my father's shirt

Bulging at the arms

And his soft paunch,

Where I imagined the globe,

Spinning

As I lay by his side

Hearing him snoring.

His snore

Had a certain kind of bird music,

Slipping somewhere along the bough,

To a bright sudden frog croak.

And when he woke,

He would take his bath,

Run to the prayer room, dripping,

Almost naked,

Comb his balding head,

As though it was still full of hair,

And slip into his

Terylene shirt

The one I wore,

But never told him about

Bulging at the arms,

His paunch.

How I became that day,

His secret ghost.

My father's shirt,

Pegged on the clothesline,

Wet,

That mother forgot

To take back inside

From the pouring rain.

About the poet

Gopikrishnan Kottoor is the third prize winner of Wingword Poetry Prize 2020. He has has also been awarded major prizes for poetry such as the All India Poetry Prize (Poetry Society, India) and the All India Special Jury Prize (Poetry Society, India, and The British Council). His poems have appeared in magazines of repute both in India and abroad such as The Illustrated Weekly of India, Opinion , Debonair, Kavya Bharati, Chandrabhaga, Economic and Political Times, The Hindu, Thought, Quest and others.