Why looking at trees is a type of rebellion [Book Review]

- The book The Trees of My Country celebrates India’s trees not for their usefulness to humans, but simply for their existence as living beings. - Through lyrical narratives and keen ecological observation, the book reveals each tree as a vibrant ecosystem interconnected with birds, animals, landscapes and people. - At a time of widespread tree loss and environmental fatigue, the book offers readers a chance to pause, pay attention and rediscover their connection to the natural world. According to an analysis by Down to Earth of the environment ministry’s advisory committee records, more than 2.8 million trees, on forest land, were approved for felling or recorded as felled across India between July 2023 and May 2026. About 90% of this felling has happened because of mining, hydropower and rehabilitation projects. Where efforts are being made to increase green cover in the country, we are starkly falling short. A recent study published in the journal Environmental Research Communications, which examines eight major government policies and programmes and their impact on tree cover, finds that only one showed positive associations with tree cover. Essentially, most government efforts are ill-informed and falling short. The more we consume news about this war against trees, the harder we fight. Until we can’t anymore. Until we’re exhausted and depleted. Writer and wildlife scientist T.R. Shankar Raman’s book The Trees of My Country: A Natural History of India in 50 Trees, with illustrations by Manali Patil, is a balm for those tired times. The book doesn’t try to advocate for trees or talk about their functionality and importance to human life. It doesn’t talk about why trees are needed and all the bad that will happen if trees are gone. It doesn’t make excuses on their behalf. The tactics tree lovers normally use to try to get the unaffected to care about trees are all thrown out the window. Here, trees deserve to exist because they are living beings. That’s reason enough. In not coddling people or offering explanations on trees’ behalf, in boldly claiming space for trees, the book veers away from anthropocentrism, the belief that human beings are the central and most important beings in the universe. The book does this not by going into philosophical debate or challenging long-held beliefs and ideas. Instead, it makes space for trees simply by making space for trees. Each of the fifty chapters of the book highlights a tree species of India. Publisher: Aleph Print length: 304 pages Publication date: June 2026 Genre: Natural History The Trees of My Country by T.R. Shankar Raman does not advocate for the conservation of trees, but rather invokes a fascination for 50 species of Indian trees by introducing the reader to its ecology, native terrain, cultures associated with it and above all, its sheer beauty. Written in a deeply narrative and lyrical style, each chapter is a celebration of the vitality and beauty of that particular tree. We get a snapshot of a tree, the region and terrain it stands in and its general surroundings, the challenges it’s facing or the stories of the people connected to it. Each chapter focuses on the tree and its ecosystem, its environment and above all, its beauty. Reading the book is like going on a nature walk with a passionate and insightful tree lover who is enthusiastic about sharing all his knowledge. For instance, the very first chapter, about the silk cotton tree (Bombax ceiba), draws attention to the bright red flowers dotting the entire tree, which he is seeing in January. The portrait highlights the idea that each tree is an entire ecosystem in itself, through showing the aliveness of that tree — the relationship it shares with other living beings around it and the life it supports. Raman asks us to look up at the tree, and points out the jet black hill mynas, squeaking shrilly as they dip their orange beaks into the red flowers, looking for nectar. Then there are racket-tailed drongos, but before he can speak about them, his attention is drawn to a vernal hanging parrot. Just a little below where the parrot is perched is a hive with rock bees buzzing around, and a jungle palm squirrel nearby. There’s also an Indian golden oriole, the common rosefinches, a purple sunbird, Malabar starlings, leafbirds, bulbuls. The colours, sounds, smells, the birds and insects, the falling fruits and blooming flowers — it’s a spectacular instance of ecological narrative nonfiction. The tree comes alive in all its glory, brightness and vitality. The chapters of the book are short and succinct, divided into parts. While some of it tends to generally focus on a tree or forest, there’s also discussion about other aspects of the tree. The chapter about the mango tree (Mangifera indica) talks about Raman’s favourite mango dish, the Kodava kaadu maange curry and the relationship India has with mangoes, its favourite fruit. The sal trees’ (Shorea robusta) chapter highlights how the indigenous people respect and protect the trees, while modern forestry views the tree species as a resource to be exploited. The chapter about the Asian palmyrah palm (Borassus flabellifer) gives a snapshot of the lives and struggles of the “palmyrah people” whose livelihoods depend on the trees, essentially the tappers who climb the trees and extract the sap, padaneer. The state-wide ban on toddy in Tamil Nadu, even as stronger liquors continue to be sold, is causing these people to be relegated to the margins of society. In this way, each chapter talks not just about the trees but the relationships around them and how the world is connected to them, detailing a portrait of the tree itself and the tree species as part of the Indian landscape and culture. There are no offered solutions or preaching. Raman writes his own observations, simply and evocatively, as he makes his way through the country and meets its various tree species. He has several opportunities to take a political and social stance, but he doesn’t. Instead, he merely lays out the situation and lets the reader decide how they feel about it. Some readers may find this a drawback, but I can appreciate the restraint and the freedom I’ve been given to come to my own conclusions. This writing, at once compassionate, expert and personal, is accompanied by intricate and detailed colour illustrations by Patil. Even if one hasn’t read the book, flipping through the images would already give one a decent idea of the personality of each tree being highlighted. Along with the tree, aspects like flowers, seeds, terrains and other relevant details are also illustrated, giving one a strong visual reference point for the things Raman is describing. Another important aspect that adds to the experience of the book is the investment that the publishing house, Aleph Book Company, has made in the book. The book is in hardcover, with thick, bright pages. The quality and colour of the paper make the illustrations come alive more vividly and make the writing stand out more dramatically than it would on duller pages. It is a nudge at the back of the reader’s mind that this book is important, and that the things it is talking about are worth one’s dedicated time and focus. Also, it sends the message that this book is a piece of luxury, made with love and care, to be savoured with equal reciprocation. As much as there is a war on trees today, there are also people and cultures deeply connected with trees. Raman ends the book by highlighting what he calls the “tree-persons” of our lives, the part of us that’s deeply, intrinsically, irreversibly connected to trees. To end on that meditative, evocative note drives home the power of loving, and being deeply absorbed in, the world of trees. While fighting for trees is important, it is also exhausting, and this book reminds us that one must not forget to stop and love them too. Banner image: A hill myna. Image by Bernard Dupont via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0). Read more: When trees replace grasslands, specialist birds lose their habitat