My response to ‘Father Returning Home’

我对“父亲回家”的回应

Response # 1: Verse I: He arrives home late with slumped shoulders,

A heavy heart and tired feet shuffling.

His eyes refuse to meet mine -

A man lost in his own thoughts.

Verse II: He gestures wildly, a flurry of emotion,

As he recounts his day’s travail.

Frustration wells up in him -

A man unmatched by the day’s demand.

Verse III: With a drink, he seeks escape,

His sorrows temporary forgotten,

While I am left to pick up the pieces;

The debris of another day’s defeat.

Verse IV: Yet, when morning arrives once more,

He shakes off yesterday’s despair,

Resolute to face life anew,

With hopes high and spirit unbroken.

Verse V: As the world darkens around us,

We seek strength in each other’s presence.

For though life may throw us its worst,

Together, we shall weather the storm,

Be it Covid 19 or Cyclone!

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Response # 2: Verse I: He is drunk and howls away like mad

In a final frenzy of curdled anger

Against his whole life, a mad dog

Straining at his leash which someone holds.

Verse II: In his sleep he jerks his swollen veins

Then wakes up and beats my mother,

Moving out to empty his bladder

From the balcony on to our garden plant.

Verse III: And in the morning slowly he wakes

Smoking beedi the whole morning,

Listening to the Sunday Bangla news

On All Indian radio, reading

That small-print scare-sheet, “Desh,”

Pouring over the grocery ads.

Verse IV: But towards evening he takes a bath,

Cuts his toenails, puts on a clean

Dhoti, asks for something to eat.

My mother serves him rice and fish curry,

Chops onions for the fluffy omelette

Whose aroma has already filled this room.

Verse V: The night is still outside. The neighing

Of horses comes from the police station.

Somewhere a window-pane breaks.

The swing creaks continuously.

A dog barks at an owl

Screeching back to him out of its sleep.

And then again silence. Blackout.

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The Actual Poem by Indian Poet Dilip Chitre ( 17 September 1938 - 10 December 2009 - only 71 years young ).

Father Returning Home

by Dilip Chitre

My father travels on the late evening train
Standing among silent commuters in the yellow light
Suburbs slide past his unseeing eyes
His shirt and pants are soggy and his black raincoat
Stained with mud and his bag stuffed with books
Is falling apart. His eyes dimmed by age
fade homeward through the humid monsoon night.
Now I can see him getting off the train
Like a word dropped from a long sentence.
He hurries across the length of the grey platform,
Crosses the railway line, enters the lane,
His chappals are sticky with mud, but he hurries onward.
Home again, I see him drinking weak tea,
Eating a stale chapati, reading a book.
He goes into the toilet to contemplate
Man’s estrangement from a man-made world.
Coming out he trembles at the sink,
The cold water running over his brown hands,
A few droplets cling to the greying hairs on his wrists.
His sullen children have often refused to share
Jokes and secrets with him. He will now go to sleep
Listening to the static on the radio, dreaming
Of his ancestors and grandchildren, thinking
Of nomads entering a subcontinent through a narrow pass.

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Father Returning Home Analysis

Lines 1- 7

My father travels on the late evening train
Standing among silent commuters in the yellow light
(…)
Is falling apart. His eyes dimmed by age
fade homeward through the humid monsoon night.

While the focus of Father Returning Home is the “father,” the first line reveals that the narrator is his child, though no information is given about the child. Contrastingly though, the intricacy of details provided in these lines is so compacted and effective that elements of the “father[‘s]” condition are quickly noted. The reader learns from the first line that the “father travels on the late evening train,” which indicates that he has no personal method of transportation for his journeys and that the hour of that journey is “late.”

A monotone atmosphere is created in Line 2 because the “father” is “among silent commuters,” meaning there is no will, desire, or energy to carry any conversation. In addition, this “silent” quality reflects a level of alienation between the “father” and his surroundings, and that alienation will be a prominent concept within the remainder of the poem. The notion that “his unseeing eyes” are not taking note of the physical surroundings, the “train” bypasses further the sense of alienation, and the image of him on the “train” with “soggy” clothes and a “black raincoat that is stained with mud” combines for a downtrodden and morose visual. Even “his bag stuffed with books is falling apart,” showcasing that no element of his current state is in good condition.

Beyond these physical details of attire and supplies, the idea that he is “in the yellow light” adds a specific feel to the situation since a traffic “light” that is “yellow” means the driver needs to slow down or prepare for a pause — a decision that is structured to be out of the driver’s control. From this, the reader can infer that the “father” is tired, and that he feels trapped in his life due to a lack of control.

The final line of this set shows the “father” feels no real comfort in returning to his house since “his eyes dimmed by age fade homeward through the humid monsoon night.”  This blend of concepts showcases his lack of comfort in “home.” In connection to the “homeward,” there is “fading,” which indicates further “dimming” than what “age” has already brought him, and “the humid monsoon night” is a visual of heaviness, dampness, aggression, and darkness. When all of this is linked to “homeward” notions, there is no reason to believe the “father” is eager for his “homecoming.”

Lines 8-12

Now I can see him getting off the train
(…)
His chappals are sticky with mud, but he hurries onward.

Line 8 shifts gears so that the reader is not just hearing the narrator discuss his “father’s” schedule, but rather reading a first-hand account of what the narrator sees of his “father” once he leaves “the train.” Regardless of how little the “father” has been interested in his return voyage “home,” his rush to leave “the train” and hurry “homeward” is notable within these five lines. In fact, he is rushing “like a word dropped from a long sentence.” This concept, when analyzed with the understanding that the “father” has been crammed on the “train” with other “silent commuters,” is a representation of the relief found in stepping away from that congestion of people. Just as “a long sentence” can feel much fresher and clearer with the removal of “a word,” those within the “train” likely feel refreshed and more comfortable with a lesser number of “commuters.” Since the “father” as well is no longer in such cramped quarters, he likely feels similar relief, despite his lack of excitement from “homeward” thoughts.

The fast pace within the “father’s ” steps could be taken as a note of eagerness about “home” that contradicts his earlier “monsoon” mentality. However, as it has already been noted that he has “mud” on his clothing, the reader can infer quite easily that the rush of his steps as he “hurries onward” is caused by poor weather rather than excitement to go “homeward.” The notion that his steps are taken along “the length of the grey platform” reinforces this idea because the visual feels dreary and bland, much like the boring ride he has experienced on the “train” and the “humid” mentality linked to returning “home.”

Lines 13-19

Home again, I see him drinking weak tea,
Eating a stale chapati, reading a book.
(…)
The cold water running over his brown hands,
A few droplets cling to the greying hairs on his wrists.

This series of lines in Father Returning Home depicts a bland list of activities the “father” partakes in, like “drinking weak tea, eating a stale chapati, and reading a book.” The “tea” being “weak” and the “chapati” being “stale” create an unpleasant atmosphere even while the “father” is tending to his own needs, and they support the idea that the “father” feels unhappy and alienated from the world around him. Even while catering to his basic needs, his life is not pleasant or enjoyable, and this speaks to his “estrangement from a man-made world.” Ironically, the “world” that the father currently resides in is of — at least in part — his own “making” as he goes forth to earn a living for the child watching him. As much as he works, and as much as this “world” is “man-made” by his own hands, he still feels “enstranged” from it.

The idea that “he trembles at the sink” indicates how unstable he feels in his own life, regardless of the stability he is providing for his child, and it reveals that he does not know true respite when he is shut away from the “world” from which he feels “estrangement.” What is worse is that even the “water” coming out of his sink — “water” he likely paid for — cannot give him warmth or comfort since it is “cold,” and the ending image of this set of lines includes his “greying hairs on his wrists.” Whether these “greying hairs” are due completely to “age” or to his strain from work and the mundane, life has taken its toll on his appearance.

Lines 20-24

His sullen children have often refused to share
(..>)
Of nomads entering a subcontinent through a narrow pass.

The alienation of the “father” continues as “his sullen children have often refused” to interact with him. This information shows the “father” has, in fact, more than one child, and it also creates a line of division between the two generations within the household. The notion that the “children…refused” to include the “father” indicates the “father” wants to be a part of their “jokes and secrets,” and that longing makes the division more heart-breaking since what the “father” truly wants seems out of his reach. Since the “father‘s” discontent outside of his “home” is connected to a mundane life he lives to provide for those “children,” there is a level of helplessness within the scenario. He is miserable as he provides, and he is miserable with those for whom he does the providing.

So, rather than focus on what is, the “father” “will now go to sleep” with “static on the radio” and “dreaming of his ancestors and his grandchildren.” There is no goodness to be had in his current life with his alienation, but oddly, he finds closeness in realizing he is a small speck in his family’s history, just as “his ancestors” were and his “grandchildren” will be. Ironically, it is by extending beyond his present state to those he never know that he feels comradery to combat his feelings of alienation.

This does not mean his “children” do not love him. Instead, it speaks of a classic disconnect between generations, one expressed from the perspective of a child through observations of the “father.” Those recollections from the child end with feelings of sympathy for the “father,” which hint that this child has grown and is looking back on mistakes of youth. Should the child carry such regret as to merit telling this story so long after the fact, perhaps the theme of the work is that both sides of this generational gap suffer — the “father” in the moment, and the “children” with memory.