Review of A Land in the Sun: Poems By Gopikrishnan Kottoor

Published by Penprints, January 2025

ISBN: 978-81-981564-9-5

Price: 380 INR

Language: English, pp. 68

From being a General Manager at the most reputed bank in India to being an acclaimed writer, Gopikrishnan Kottoor's work has been featured in many international and national journals. A Land in the Sun is a collection of 58 poems. This collection reflects and focuses on fleeting human experiences which feel both mundane and universal. Kottoor is known for his earlier works like Poems from America and his translations of Malayalam poetry, the prominent one being the translation of Ramanan by Changampuzha. His anthology of poems, A Land in the Sun, stands out for its quiet elegance.

The book begins with the poem titled "Sapera" (The Snake Charmer), which captures the essence of a hot afternoon in a countryside setting. The narrator is mesmerized by the control that the snake-charmer had on the "enslaved" snakes. Though the scene of snakes charmed and controlled by the tunes of been played by the snake-charmer could be tempting and alluring to watch, there could be a broader perspective to it that the poet wanted to hint at, which is the dominance of humans over something natural, over the creatures that are supposed to be free and wild on their own rather than used for recreation purposes for humans. Kottoor talks about the Wayanad tragedy in one of his poems, a devastating landslide which struck Kerala on July 30, 2024, causing destruction and loss of life. The loss is depicted with gruesome reality and moving imagery:

Outside in the darkness,people keep dying under the mudand trees fall over them asleep.They are choking,the little ones who wake upgasping to cry,the wet mudsmothering them like a mother's breasttoo hard upon their mouths.What use, what use, God?

Kottoor has talked about the most random and mundane things in his poems, varying from the portrayal of tiny creatures, "encircling our electric lights," in his poem "Small Lives"; to the stewards on the plane described as "characters in a play carrying chicken stew, coffee, bread and water" walking in the passageway no longer entranced by the beauty of the still clouds. "A Poem to My Strand of Hair" explores the narrator's conflicted emotions over a single strand of grey hair, which symbolizes the inevitable process of aging. The poems reflect on Kottoor's exceptional observational skills, even in the simplest of things, resulting in valuable insights and a different takeaway, which most of us fail to observe in our lives as humans nowadays are always in a hurry, not a moment spared to reflect or observe one's surroundings. This is what Kottoor brings to readers, nothing exemplary or out of the ordinary; instead, his biggest achievement as a poet is to make ordinary special and "noticed," restoring the faith in the simplicity of ordinary in today's era, where everything needs to be "aesthetic."

"My Father's Shirt" weaves the fabric of a simple garment into a tapestry of inheritance, love of a son, and the passing of time. The poem which resonates the most in this digital and social era by Kottoor has to be "Dead Friends on Facebook." In Kottoor's words:

Here's a place you go to,to look up friendsyou never looked up to then,who left without telling you.They there, once standing beside vineyardsor colourful bloom.some with their pets, some hiding regretssome with their books,rented horses for fame,and some with their breaking guitars.

Poems like "Tiny Flowers" and "Flamingos" paint landscapes where the natural world mirrors the inner turmoil of humans. Kottoor touches on the theme of death and mortality in the poems "The Death Is Announced" and "The Last Man in the Bar." The man pouring the whiskey in a bar portrays a solitary figure nursing "dreams" in a dimly lit space, where "the bar" becomes his solitude. The stillness in the air hints at the mortality of humans, affirming the birth and death cycle. The title poem of the anthology "A Land in the Sun" moves from gratitude and awe to overwhelming emotion of loss over nature. The sunny land amidst the greenery suddenly turns into "miles and miles of emptiness," and the narrator struggles to understand this sudden change. Most probably, Kottoor is emphasizing the importance of nature and how humans are destroying the natural beauty, instead of preserving it. Also, the sense of loss is evoked through this poem.

Kottoor's poems are personal as well as political, sometimes laden with cultural elements, a couple of times with rich imagery of various places. However, what remains at the end of reading this book is that his poems are about introspection with nuanced insights rather than activism. Kottoor's translation background shines through, making the poems accessible yet layered for a wider reach of audience. A Land in the Sun excels in its free verse and subtle rhyme, allowing emotions to unfold organically. Gopikrishnan Kottoor's poems define the beauty in transience. Through its vivid portrayal of love, nature, and loss, it reminds the reader that poetry's power lies in transforming the ordinary into the eternal. Kottoor's poems offer solace in a monotonous world. This anthology not only captures a land bathed in sunlight but also the human's resilience and unwavering spirit.

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About the Reviewer:

Dr. Nikita Yadav holds a PhD in English Literature from the Department of English and Modern European Languages, University of Lucknow. Her works have been published in Muse India and Rhetorica – A Literary Journal of Arts.

The Colour of Home

The train smelled of metal and the last trace of night rain. Meera watched the landscape pass in broad, unreliable strokes. Even the green felt uncertain, as if every shade had woken up with its own mood. The cabin held a kind of heaviness she couldn't name. Sometimes the world understood things before you did.

Colours had always been a struggle for Meera. Her first memory of colour wasn't a colour at all. It was her mother sounding out letters at the dining table.

R – E – D.

As if the spelling might anchor something that was slipping through her. She knew the names, however, but she just didn't know what they pointed to.

She was taught the meaning of each colour, the importance of each. But to her, the less identifiable they were, the less their importance. They kept changing in each stage of her life. As the train sliced through the terrains of Kerala, the view from her window blurred between grey and green.

"What's your favourite colour?" her dad would ask.

"None, they are all strangers to me," a tiny, confused Meera replied.

What did it mean to be a favourite anyway? How do you choose among strangers who look alike? Questions like these were never a stranger to her.

"Well, who's the stranger that has always been there, every time you look, and has never changed on you?"

"The sky," yelled a smiling Meera.

And there ended the questions. Blue was her friend. As her life shifted from greens to greys in her adolescent years, blue came with her. In times of doubt and in times of joy, blue was there. All she had to do was look up. He always made her look up.

The monotonous alarm of chai across the compartment brought Meera back to motion. The view was now lusciously green. And as her eyes moved up, there he was again. Blue. But he looked different today. He looked darker, heavier.

"Momma, how long till we reach?" Meera smiled at how different her child was from her. She used to love train rides when she was his age. "Ten minutes," she replied, holding him closer.

"Have you decided what you want for your birthday, Ritwik?"

"No... you only decide for me." Ritwik, now busy on his mom's phone, had little time to think about gifts. He was absorbed in the colours on her phone screen. She wondered if he believed in them fully, or if he too suspected the world of showing itself in ways it couldn't justify.

"Have you decided what you want for your birthday, Meera?"

Unlike Ritwik, Meera knew what she wanted. She wanted a cycle, and she demanded one as soon as her dad asked.

Her preteen years were filled with cycle rides across the fields. Her dad stayed away from teaching her how to ride. Anger and teaching went hand in hand for him. Her cousin, a few years elder to her, took charge of that role. Unlike Dad, Naveen was always calm.

He was calm as he waited at the platform as well. He was calm on the car ride home. He was calm when he took her into the room to see her dad. The room where her father lay was a different colour entirely. As the blue got darker and darker, Ritwik's phone was no longer interesting to him. The house, the courtyard, the animals, the air, he had never experienced life like this before. The charm of this place took over him completely.

After neighbours left and after the rituals folded themselves away and after the first decisions were made, Meera stepped outside. As she came out onto the front yard, she felt lighter. She could feel blue getting lighter as well, and as she looked down, she found Ritwik riding her old cycle. A smile ran to her faster than her thoughts.

"Momma..."

"Yeah?"

"How come your cycle is red? You hate red."

"Yeah, but your grandpa loved red.”

About the Author: Anand Padmasenan is a filmmaker, writer, and designer with a master's degree in Film and Video Communication from the National Institute of Design, Ahmedabad, and a bachelor's degree in Architecture. His work explores the intersections of visual storytelling, accessibility, and inclusive design, often drawing from personal experience. Anand's practice blends critical academic questioning with visual and literary mediums, using documentary films and narrative essays to challenge norms and reframe creative education.

Echoes of Frustration

Frustration’s spark ignites within,

A sudden blaze that rages, unconfined.

Why did calmness flee, and anger take its place?

A puzzle I face, with a troubled, searching gaze.

I was a lake, serene and still,

Reflecting life’s beauty, without a chill.

But now, I’m a tempest, turbulent and wide,

A stormy sea, where emotions fiercely reside.

Frustration’s irony cuts deep and true,

I loathe myself for loathing others anew.

A paradox of pain, a cycle to break,

I yearn to reclaim my tranquil heart’s gentle make.

I call out to my former self, now lost,

A whispered plea, a heartfelt cost.

I want to rediscover my peaceful shore,

And let go of this turmoil, forevermore.

Navratra is a rising literary voice from Jaipur, India, where her love for writing blossomed in school. With a penchant for capturing her thoughts and musings at random moments, Navratra's creative voice has resonated across various esteemed international publications such as Sahitya Kunj, Spillwords Press, Setu Magazine, The Criterion, Madras Courier, The Beautiful Mind Journal, Scarlet Dragon Fly Journal, Indus Woman Writing, Basset Hound Press, Fevers of the Mind Journal, and Piker Press, among others.