- 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
Facts Only
* The book celebrates India’s trees for their existence as living beings.
* The book uses lyrical narratives and ecological observation to show each tree as an interconnected ecosystem with birds, animals, landscapes, and people.
* Analysis by Down to Earth found that over 2.8 million trees on forest land in India were approved for felling or recorded as felled between July 2023 and May 2026.
* Approximately 90% of this felling was due to mining, hydropower, and rehabilitation projects.
* A study examining eight government policies found only one showed positive associations with tree cover.
* T.R. Shankar Raman's book introduces fifty species of Indian trees.
* Chapters explore relationships, such as the mango tree chapter discussing local culinary traditions, and the sal tree chapter contrasting indigenous respect with modern resource views.
* The text includes specific details about co-occurring life, like the silk cotton tree sharing an ecosystem with mynas, drongos, parrots, bees, and other fauna.
* The book features colour illustrations by Manali Patil.
Executive Summary
The book The Trees of My Country, by T.R. Shankar Raman, is a lyrical exploration of India's 50 tree species, focusing on their existence as living beings rather than their human utility or functional importance. It uses vivid, narrative descriptions to connect each tree to its specific ecosystem, surrounding landscapes, associated cultures, and the biodiversity (birds, animals, insects) that shares its environment. The work operates outside typical conservation advocacy by refusing to present arguments for why trees are needed or what happens if they are lost. Instead, it establishes a space for trees simply by celebrating their inherent vitality and beauty.
The text offers specific vignettes, such as the description of the silk cotton tree showcasing the interconnectedness with various avian and insect lifeforms, and discussions touching upon the contrasting views of indigenous respect for forests versus modern resource exploitation. The book also touches on socio-economic aspects by highlighting how different groups, like the "palmyrah people," depend on trees, illustrating the complex relationships between the flora, local cultures, and contemporary social structures.
Ultimately, the narrative style is observational and evocative, focusing on sensory details—colors, sounds, smells—to immerse the reader in the living reality of the trees and their environment. The book includes detailed illustrations by Manali Patil and physical production elements that emphasize the value of the content as a carefully crafted object.
Full Take
The narrative strategy employed in this work functions as a deliberate act of resistance against anthropocentrism, achieving its effect not through argumentation but through spatial occupation. By deliberately omitting functional arguments or calls to action regarding tree necessity, Raman shifts the framework from a debate about utility ("why we need trees") to an experience of being present within the ecological reality of those trees. This creates cognitive space for recognition rather than compliance.
The structure leverages juxtaposition: the vibrant, interconnected vitality of the natural world against the destructive realities detailed elsewhere (tree loss statistics, policy failures). The book does not provide solutions; it facilitates a different mode of attention. The inclusion of socio-economic portraits—such as the plight of the tappers and related community struggles regarding resource control—serves to anchor the abstract ecological concept into lived human experience, demonstrating that the "war against trees" is inextricably linked to social equity and cultural survival.
The investment in physical production (hardcover quality, vivid illustrations) reflects a deeper implication: valuing this mode of existence as something worthy of luxury and focused attention, implicitly critiquing the systems that prioritize short-term utility over intrinsic, non-human value. The final emphasis on "tree-persons" suggests an invitation to reorient human identity away from dominance toward deep ecological embeddedness.
BRIDGE QUESTIONS: If the objective is to shift the paradigm from anthropocentric management to ecological recognition, what mechanisms are required in public discourse to allow for the sustained appreciation of non-human entities without reverting to anthropocentric demands? How can the emotional resonance generated by this lyrical approach be translated into actionable political structures that value holistic ecosystem health over compartmentalized resource metrics? What alternative frameworks exist that prioritize intrinsic biological value over human-defined usefulness in environmental policy?