Beyond the Verse - 'Our Casuarina Tree': Bridging Continents with Toro Dutt

Episode Date: September 11, 2025

In this week’s episode of “Beyond the Verse,” the official podcast of PoemAnalysis.com and Poetry+, Maiya and Joe turn their attention to Toru Dutt’s ‘Our Casuarina Tree’, a landmark poem in Indian English literature.Beginning with Maiya’s reading, they reflect on Dutt’s short but remarkable life, her education in Cambridge, and her ability to bridge Indian and European literary traditions. The hosts discuss how the tree serves as both a personal and cultural symbol, tied to memory, family, and identity, while also carrying undertones of colonial tension.They look closely at the poem’s opening images of the python and creeper, considering how constriction and scars might echo both personal loss and broader historical struggles. The discussion also focuses on liminal spaces in the poem—between India and Europe, life and death, memory and the present—and how Dutt’s blending of English Romantic influences with Indian natural and cultural motifs creates something deeply original.Finally, Joe and Maiya explore the technical structure of the poem, noting its enclosed rhyme scheme and iambic pentameter, and how these formal choices reinforce themes of entrapment, release, and continuity. They close with a reflection on Dutt’s legacy, her reworking of Wordsworth’s ‘Yew Trees’, and how ‘Our Casuarina Tree’ transforms a symbol of fear into one of memory, comfort, and resilience.Get exclusive PDFs on Toru Dutt and her poetry, available to Poetry+ users:'Our Casuarina Tree' PDFs:Full PDF GuidesPoetry Snapshot PDFsPoem Printable PDFsWith Meter SyllablesWith Rhyme SchemeWith Both Meter and RhymeToru Dutt PDF GuideFor more insights into Toru Dutt, visit PoemAnalysis.com, where you can explore a wide range of analyzed poems, with thousands of PDFs, study tools, and more.Tune in and Discover:The cultural and personal significance of ‘Our Casuarina Tree’How memory and loss shape Dutt’s poetic visionThe blending of Indian and European traditions in her writingThe colonial undertones in the poem’s natural imagerySend us a textSupport the showAs always, for the ultimate poetry experience, join Poetry+ and explore all things poetry at PoemAnalysis.com.

Like a huge python winding round and round the rugged trunk, indented deep with scars up to its very summit near the stars, a creeper climbs, in whose embraces bound no other tree could lip. But gallantly the giant wears the scarf and flowers are hung in crimson clusters, all the boughs among, whereon, all day a gathered bird and bee, and oft at night the garden overflows with one sweet song that seems to have no clothes, sung darkling from our tree while men repose. When first my casement is wide open thrown, at dawn my eyes delighted on it rest. Sometimes, and most in winter,

on its crest, a grey baboon sits statue-like alone watching the sunrise, while on lower boughs his puny offspring leap about and play, and far and near Kekyllas hail the day. And to their pastures wend our sleepy cows, and in the shadow on the broad tank cast, by that haught tree so beautiful and vast, the water-lilies spring like snow en masse. But not because of its magnificence, dear is the kazoo arena to my soul. Beneath it we have played, though years may roll. O sweet companions loved with love intense For your sake shall the tree be ever dear

Blent with your images it shall arise In memory till the hot tears blind mine eyes What is that dirge-like murmur that I hear Like the sea breaking on a shingle beach It is the tree's lament an eerie speech That happily to the unknown land may reach Unknown yet well known to the eye of faith Ah, I have heard that wail far, far away, in distant lands by many a sheltered bay,

when slumbered in his cave the water wraith, and the waves gently kissed the classic shore, of France or Italy, beneath the moon, when earth lay trancid in a dreamless swoon. And every time the music rose, before mine inner vision rose a form sublime. Thy form, O tree, as in my happy prime, I saw thee, in my own. own loved native clime. Therefore I fain would consecrate allay unto thy honour tree, beloved of those who now in blessed sleep for I repose, dearer than life to me, alas were they, may thou be numbered when my days are done, with deathless trees like those in Borodale, under whose awful branches lingered pale, fear trembling hope and death the skeleton, and time the shadow, and though weak the verse that would thy

beauty, feign, O feign rehearse, may love defend thee from oblivion's curse. Welcome to Beyond the Verse, a poetry podcast brought to you by the team at Permanalysis.com and Poetry Plus. I'm Joe and I'm here with my co-host, Maya, who just so beautifully read today's poem, Kazuarina Tree by Toru Dutt. And we're going to be discussing a range of themes today, including natural imagery, liminal spaces and the importance of cultural iconography. But first, Maya, having just read so beautifully, do you mind telling us a little bit about Dutt herself as a poet and as a person. Well, thank you, Joe.

So Toru Dutt was born in 1856 in Kolkata, India. She was born into a relatively well-off family. It was a Bengali Christian family. Her father was a magistrate, absolutely encouraged education, and she actually spent a short time in Cambridge in England. For those of you who don't know, Cambridge is one of the best universities in the UK. This was exceptionally rare for a woman at the time,

never mind a woman from India. She had a great education. She spoke French and English both fluently and actually is very well known as a translator. She translated many French works into English and vice versa. So what we're focusing on today is one of her wonderful, wonderful poems, Arcasio Arena Tree. This is one of the first poems written by an Indian woman that was written in English. And that will become critical. And I know Joe, you and I will talk about the importance of this further down the line. But in terms of the key things we really need to focus on today for her. her life is unfortunately it was very, very short. She died age 21 from tuberculosis. This poem was written in the few years lead up to that in her late teens, early, early 20s. But Joe, can you tell us a bit about the poem what it represents and really what we're going to dive into today? Yeah, I'd love to. So I'm sure some listeners already have a sense from your reading of the poem, but effectively the kind of basic premise of the poem is that we're describing this tree. And it is to be a

specific tree rather than just a kind of an example of the species, although perhaps we can talk later on, but whether or not this tree might represent something larger than its branches and roots. The poem is ostensibly kind of a remembered scene from her childhood, and this is really interesting because as the poem develops, it becomes clear that yes, we're interested in the tree itself and the animals that populate it, but really what we're interested in is the space that the tree occupies and the poet's memory, memories of her childhood, memories of playing there with we just get the sense of beloved figures, although we'll talk a little bit later on about whether or not these people might be her siblings, both of whom actually died before her,

also of tuberculosis, one before the family moved to Europe and one after they had returned. So we have this really complex blending of a physical space, a physical object, a place, with kind of more abstract themes around memory, family, and longing for a life that perhaps you can't return to. But Maya, talking about the perm itself and any regular listeners to be on the verse, will know that Maya and I both have a shared affection for doing deep dives on titles. So with this title, I know you want to talk about that first word, the collective pronoun hour. Why is that word so important in this title for you? For me, it's incredibly important because it serves not only as a contrast to the first

person narrative that we actually get through the poem itself, but it also offers a sense of collective memory. A memory is something we're going to talk about throughout this poem. It is something that really sets apart the sense of entitlement. If you think about the poem and it was titled My Casu Arena Tree, there is a sense of ownership, of individuality. But instead, what does here is she actually offers the memory, the collective memory of this tree to anyone who wishes to take part in that. It actually brings the reader in from the start.

I just love that. I think it sets the poem off so, so well for her intention. And to me, I think it offers a really unique perspective on what this tree represents throughout this poem. Because not only are we discussing a tree that is evergreen, you know, Joe, I'm sure we'll go on to discuss what that actually impacts within this poem. But it goes through the seasons. It is a very old tree. It is one that we get an impression that has been around for a long time and will be around long after she has lived as well. And the fact that you have this collective sense of belonging is just so beautiful.

But what do you think? Definitely. And I think the thing I enjoy about that word is that its limitations are really disputed and can be disputed. You know, in the one hand, she's talking about her immediate environment. This tree we gather is just outside the window of the family house. Dutt, as we mentioned, was a middle-class family, and she split her time while living in Kolkata between two houses. And one specifically was a garden house with grounds and trees. And this perhaps is where this poem is drawing its inspiration from.

So on the one hand, it could simply refer to the family unit. This is our tree. But obviously, we as readers can look at that in so many different ways. It's worth noting the context of this term. Obviously, we're talking about the late 19th century. India is under British rule. Is there a sense here that readers can look at this tree, which is native to India and other countries,

but not native to Europe, not native to the UK? Is there a sense here of our being a kind of national collective experience about this is something that differentiates us from the coloniser? Now, it's worth noting, of course, that Dutt herself had a great affection for the UK and actually upon returning from England struggled to resettle into Indian society. There was, I think, her time in Cambridge in particular really opened her eyes to what was possible. And I think when she was back, she found Indian society to be rather restrictive for a young woman like her. But what that means is there's not a poem challenging colonial structures as such.

That doesn't mean that other readers, particularly readers after her death, perhaps in the independence movement that followed in decades and indeed century that followed her life, couldn't look at a word like our referring to a native species of tree and look at that as a way of establishing things that make India distinct and different from the colonial power that was the UK at the time.

So I think that's the thing I really enjoy about it is on the one hand it's an incredibly intimate space, it's about a shared personal experience, personal memories with people who are no longer with her who have passed away. But on the other hand you can really kind of extrapolate from that word, all of the things that would go on to form the conversation around independence, the way in

which India is fundamentally different from Britain, the way in which India can begin to assert its own independence. So I think there's so much going on there. Looking forward into the perm itself, and I want to go straight into this opening line, the mention of the Python. And this is really, really interesting because just in case readers missed it, this is a simile that is established in the first line. It's not actually describing the tree itself, but describing the creeper. Now, a creeper can refer to any kind of species of plants that grows on another thing. So often think about moss, think about poison ivy for kind of British readers and listeners. That would be a very kind of common image. You might see it growing up the side of a building or, of course, in this case,

growing on another tree. And I think deciding to begin this poem, not by describing the titular tree, by describing something that grows on top of it or around this in this case, something that constricts it, is really interesting to me. And I'd love to get your thoughts. on this mire. But to my mind, that decision speaks to an unwillingness to look at the central object straight away, perhaps because of a painful memory, perhaps because as much as there is beauty in this tree and there is a wonderful shared set of memories related to this tree, looking at the tree is nevertheless a reminder of the memories that were shared with other people who are no longer there to share it with the poet in the present. And I wonder whether

focusing on the creeper before describing the tree itself is Dut's way of kind of easing herself into this memory because actually while there is great joy in the image of the tree, there's a kind of cathartic experience as well because it forces her to reconcile with those who are no longer there and perhaps the creeper is a way of describing around the scene without having to get to the crux of the matter. Am I onto something there? What do you think? I completely agree. I think it's really interesting that you kind of talk about it almost as a barrier to that central image. And I find that the use of the word Python and the imagery that you're actually getting from that only further cements that idea because of course as you say the python

winding round and round that's immediately giving you this sense of kind of claustrophobia of constriction of something that is potentially being almost absorbed you know and I find that only further adds to this sense of discomfort that you actually get in this opening line instead of this very open natural image that you would almost expect to have entering this poem you have something that is constricting. And what that does is it allows a little bit more movement, I feel, because you start from a place that is so tightly wound, if you will, and you can then expand from that. Instead of entering this space that is, you know, within the poem very open, you're beginning from a very, very central point. And I love the image of the Python. Of course, you know,

the image of the snake, the python, the cobra, they all offer very, very different visuals. The Python in itself is not similar to some other snakes that she could have used. For example, if you used a cobra, fast, it's deadly. Python has weight to it. And I love the idea that we're exploring something that has a weight that has almost a grounding. Because that again tells the reader that we're exploring something that isn't just this kind of ephemeral, uncertain history. It's got real legs to it.

And it's an amazing image to open this poem with. It's really gorgeous. I think especially exploring that kind of image of the python as something constricting, as something heavy, further alludes to what some people have picked up from this poem, which is that it could potentially have some undertones of anti-colonial sentiment. Of course, as you say, Dutt herself potentially wasn't writing that way, but I can certainly see why people pick it up. The idea of a python constricting this tree very much can be kind of applied to the fact that shortly before this, poem was written, India was subject to crown rule. You had the colonial influx of Britain as a ruling power over India. That is, again, a much larger entity absorbing and taking over. And I love that imagery, because of course, whether Dutt intended it or not, you can pull that out of here,

even centuries down the line. 100%. I think I couldn't agree more. There is no doubt in my mind that if you were reading this poem in India in the years and decades after its publication, of course, India have eventually achieved independence in the 1940s from Britain. So it's a long time coming. Obviously, that movement was growing in momentum for decades beforehand. There's no doubt in my mind that if you're reading this poem in that context, you are viewing this site of this python-like growth around the tree. This tree that, as I mentioned, is native to India,

as something akin to a colonial metaphor, as something around a foreign species that survives off of the strength of the tree. Actually, the strength of the tree is going to be explored later on. And the way in which Dutt describes how only a tree as strong as this could bear the weight of this kind of parasitic presence the creeper represents. And I think there is undeniably a colonial angle there. I just want to do a little bit of a deep dive on the python itself, if I may. Regular listeners will know that I sometimes get caught in these rabbit holes,

but just bear with me, I shall try to be concise. There are a couple of interesting literary, historical, mythological moments that I want to just draw parallels with here. First is the image of Python as named rather than a species. There was a named kind of individual creature called Python in the Olympian canon in the ancient Greek and ancient Roman belief system, which was that the Python guarded the Oracle of Delphi. And for any listeners who aren't to wear, the Oracle of Delphi was this prophetic force that would often tantalizingly and irritatingly unclear would offer a, hints as to the future, but this creature was guarding this oracle until it was killed by the god Apollo. So already you have this sense of a creature that is in some way standing between mankind and mankind's ability to know its own future. There's something really interesting there.

Why does she name the Python specifically? As Maya mentioned, she could have just said generic serpent, she could have said snake. She could have named another species. Why Python? That was incredibly well educated, as we've taught about. She would have been aware of this story. and so everything that we can imbue significance into every choice that she makes with that in mind. So on the one hand, you've got that image of Python and the ancient Greek canon. But you also have apologies to any of our Scandinavian listeners, if I mess up the pronunciation of this. But there is also the example of Jorg Mungandir. Apologies, if I've got that wrong, which is the world serpent in Norse mythology,

which is this great malevolent serpent that wraps itself around the entire world and eventually will be killed in Ragnarok when it faces against the god Thor. Now again, why is that significant? Because again, you have this image of a serpent wrapping around something in a way this is malevolent. And I think those examples, obviously A, are both European examples, Western examples. One is from ancient Greece, one is from Scandinavia. So Dut is playing with notions of Eastern West. She is an Indian poet writing in an Indian context, but drawing upon this kind of cultural memory of what this python, this snake, this serpent might represent to Western readers in Western society. So she's imbueing all of those cultural historical associations into her perm. And I think when we look at it

in that way, this serpent does seem a detriment to something. Could it be a detriment to India knowing its own future in the way of Python in the Greek canon? Could it be this idea that eventually somebody is going to have to face this serpent in battle in the same way that Thor has to face the world serpent, which I'm not going to pronounce again, in the story in Ragnarok, in Norse mythology, there is this sense that this relationship between the serpent, the creeper and the tree, perhaps representing India, the Indian nation, is unsustainable and ultimately is going to lead to confrontation. In both of those stories, the Greek and the Norse one, the ending is with the snake being vanquished by some kind of godly figure. And again, we obviously know,

looking back in the 21st century, that the Indian independence movement was largely a triumph of peaceful protest. It wasn't actually a violent struggle in the way that some other colonial wars, for example, the Irish War of Independence would be an interesting example. But obviously, Dutt wouldn't be aware of that at the time. And a lot of the people reading in the years after the poem was published would have been advocating for violence struggle against the colonial power. So there's so much going on right in that opening line. But what do you think, Maya? I mean, I've rambled on a little bit there, but what do you think about that? No, I think those are some great mythologies to bring in. And actually, I really enjoy the way

that, you know, as you move into the second line, you have this impression of the rugged trunk indented deep with scars. Now, let's take the tree at face value here and this serpent kind of, or this python, wrapping around the tree. Not only do you get a sense that the tree has been through much worse, it has deep, deep scars, it has been through these battles before. There is a suggestion here that the python actually isn't making those marks. So again, perhaps this is another way that Dut is managing to undercut. that sense of direct violence, because yes, the python is there, yes, the python is making its movement, it's heading up the tree, but it's not creating those deep, deep scars.

And I really think that that might be a very subtle way of her suggesting that, you know, all of the things that this tree stands for in this poem, history, memory, childhood, they will vanquish that serpent in the end. They will actually manage to break through those barriers because this is not a permanent situation. This is not an ongoing struggle. This is one that is only present in the moment and will at some point be outlived. I just think that's a really, really wonderful way to twist that narrative in what, two lines of this poem. But what I really want to do is I want to move on to the next few lines, because I think this is where the poem starts to get really interesting. You have

this impression of height that is brought in. The creeper climbs towards the stars. Now, Joe, I've got a question for you, and that is kind of twofold here, which is one, what do you think the importance of this being a nighttime scene is? And two, what does that height actually allude to in the poem? There's two really, really good questions. I think I shall take the second one first, the significance of that height, and this notion of a tree that reaches all of the way to the stars, I think is further allowing the reader to view the tree as a metaphor for the nation, perhaps even the world, right? It's almost as though it spans the breadth of human experience for a long time, and obviously at the time that Dutt was writing, pre-flight, pre-space travel. The stars are fundamentally unreachable, you know, and obviously, as is the case in many religious canons,

including Christianity, of course, and Dutt was a Christian, the sky is where heaven is, it's where God is. So this sense of the tree as being big enough to bridge the gap between the mortal human mundane earth and the immortal, unreachable sky, I think A shows the way she regards this tree. the importance it holds for her, and also allows the tree to be viewed metaphorically as something larger than what it is. It's not just a tree. It's the whole country, perhaps even the whole world. And in terms of your first question about the significance of the stars and the significance of the nighttime scene, I think it kind of imbues the scene with a little bit of magic.

Imagine the low lights, the twinkling of the stars. You have the night sky, which obviously has connotations of fate and of destiny, as I mentioned before. Perhaps that's another allusion back to some kind of prophetic force that the tree might represent, it might go on to predict something into the future, Indian independence, etc. Of course, there is a more tragic interpretation of this, which is that she is remembering playing in this tree with what we presumed to be her siblings, both of whom died of tuberculosis, the same disease that she would die of at the age of just 21. So we can look back at this retrospectively and view those illusions to fate through the tragic lens of her own biography. You know, it's almost like

she's predicting her own demise by the same disease by reflecting on the absence of her siblings who used to play with her in this tree. So there's loads going on here. Obviously, the night sky and the night soundscape, which is really interesting. I mean, there are lots of mentions in this poem of animals that populate the tree. So this notion of the darkness, not being able to see the animal, but nevertheless hear it, I think create a more immersive scene for the reader and it creates a really vivid sense of what it was like to experience this space, the way that she would experienced it. Now, Ma, I'm interested in the way this tree is described and kind of personified later on in this stanza, particularly that line, but gallantly the giant wears the scarf and

flowers are hung in crimson clusters. What do you want to do with that line? I mean, I know you've got things to say about this. Oh, thanks, Joe. Yes, I absolutely have things to say about this line. I think what makes Dutt's poetry, and especially this poem so powerful, is her ability to blend that Indian literature with romantic English literature. There is a real sense here of something kind of grand and gallant. And it's what I would always associate with kind of the romantic myths that are brought about regarding knights and fairy tales and stories. The word gallant itself often refers to the bravery of soldiers, the bravery of knights and particularly Arthur's Knights of the Round Table. This is a fundamentally British myth.

And what's really clever about the way that Duck brings in this mythology is that it immediately situates you somewhere beyond Kolkata. There is a real sense that you have a distance between where the tree is and where she is writing from, whether that's mythologically or literally. And Joe, I'd love to have this discussion with you about where we actually think she's placed when she's writing this poem because, of course, we have a first person speaker and it's very rare that we get to say, or the poet and the speaker are, one and the same, because this is an autobiographical poem in some ways. But before we move

on to that, I do just want to further cement this sense of the romantic in here. I mean, we're looking at the crimson clusters, all the boughs among, the birds and the bees, the garden. You have these very pastoral images that are being brought in to what is actually a tropical climate, and these are immediately different, and you can differentiate them from those more tropical motifs because you actually have this sense that there is a blending of cultures here. There is a crossing of boundaries. I know Joe said that in the intro we're going to be discussing liminal spaces. This is the first time I think we actually broach one of those boundaries.

There is a sense of a mythological crossing here. And what I think it does is serve to really further mythologize this casuarina tree. Because of course, for Western readers, and let's not forget this poem was written in the English, language. For Western readers, this is not a tree they are familiar with. This is not something that they would have grown up seeing. So there is always going to be a sense of distance when you're trying to display an image of something that you've never seen before. So for a reader to then bring this mythology that they will be very deeply familiar with in, it really offers a new way to mythologize this tree in a way that makes it very easy for English for Western readers. I think

what's really brilliant about this poem is that that boundary crossing is actually a way of, you know, outside of the text, making this a groundbreaking piece of work for Western readers. Because of course, by using something that Western readers are familiar with and subverting it, you are offering them an entirely new story. I immediately feel incredibly comfortable with this poem, even though I've never seen a Casuarina tree when I was doing my research, because of the fact that there are familiar motifs, there are familiar sounds, there are familiar escapes in here. I mean, there's the talk of shingle beaches later on in the poem that when Joe and I were talking before this podcast, I had to Google.

I was like, there's definitely not shingle beaches in Kolkata, but actually it reminded me of the Lake District. And just lo and behold, it happened to be what she was talking about when she mentions Borrowdale later. And she brings in Wordsworth's poems written from the Lake District, which of course, course is an absolute staple of English poetry. So this boundary crossing here is so important to this poem. But I'd love to know what you think about this kind of specific liminal space and how we approach this in the poem. Well, that was brilliant, I think again, I would just look to second what you've already said. Just a quick explainer for any listeners who aren't familiar with this phrase, with this word liminal, I should say. Effectively, something that's

liminal refers to something at the boundary between two things, that moment where is it A or is it begins to become unclear and uncertain, and ultimately we have to remember this poem is treading so many liminal boundaries. It's obviously treading the boundary of language. It's written in the English language, as Maya said, but there are species named, not least the tree, but also species of bird that were native to India, so those words are becoming kind of anglicised within the poem. But you also have the liminal space geographically between the different iconography was mentioned. There are things in this poem that are quintessentially Indian, and there are things in this poem like the Schingle Beaches that feel quintessentially English or British,

and those two things kind of coexist. I think to zoom out slightly, Dutt's life is so contested and so brief and so torn between these different influences. Right from her childhood, she received a brilliant education in India, as Maya mentioned, and she was reading the classics, the English classics. You know, we know that she enjoyed Milton's Paradise Lost. And yet at the same time, we know that she was learning traditional ancient Indian stories from her mother in particular. So right from the get-go, right before she'd ever set foot in Europe, she is already experiencing these different kind of cultural inheritances. And she's being pulled in multiple directions.

When she first moved to Europe, she was just 13 years old. And, I mean, I'm not a poet, but we have a poet right here with us in the podcast, Maya. Those years 13 to sort of 17 or 18, they're so influential for a young writer. I mean, and all of that was experienced out. of her environment. It was experienced in Europe. As you mentioned, she went to Cambridge University at a point where women couldn't matriculate. She studied there. She didn't live in accommodation, so her name isn't on as many records as it might be. But we have letters from her. We know she was attending lectures, which really would have been broadening her horizon.

I mean, Cambridge University was and is one of the world's foremost universities. So that kind of education in a literal sense at the university, but also that kind of immersion in British cultural life, only to then be taken back to India, taken a away from all of those new horizons that were opening for her. She is a tragic figure even before her early death because it feels like she's being pulled in multiple directions. We know when she was back in India, she was desperate to bring something of her British life. She, you know, there's letters that are quite amusing in some ways where she sort of laments

not being able to go to dinner parties anymore. But there is also something much more radical going on. She's trying to write in different ways. She was writing and translating for literary magazines in India. but obviously, as we've mentioned, expectations on women were different in India than they were in Britain at the time. And so she was caught in that kind of restrictive society while longing for a society that she had briefly been a part of. And I think the thing I love about this poem is, amidst all of the kind of liminal turmoil that I've just described, I mean, such a difficult thing for a young person to go through.

This poem is in its own way a kind of smoothing of those edges. And in many ways, those elements of her life that she struggled to reconcile in reality. become reconciled in the poem. She is able to take Indian iconography and blend it with a British poetic tradition. And the result is this remarkably moving, beautiful piece of work that is able to unite these two disparate aspects of her own life, linguistically, culturally, geographically. And it's a real testament and it's a wonderful legacy for a poet to have, especially because the kind of sense of harmony that we get in this poem isn't always a reflection of her real life,

which often was defined by tragedy, the loss of her siblings, the loss of several lives, almost, her Indian life initially when she went to Europe and then the loss of her European life when she returned to India. And I think it's a wonderful thing to have this poem that is able to, even only for a few stanzas, reconcile those seemingly irreconcilable things. I really love the way that you talk about the kind of reconciliation of those two very different identities. I think it's something that makes this poem, as you say, incredibly powerful. Because of course, one of the wonderful things about poetry is you can pick your speaker up and place them anywhere. You can place them outside of time, outside of culture.

And I think what Dutt does here to offer herself almost a new version of life where those two identities are at peace, are one, is really, really stunning. And visually offers a really rich tapestry of what her life could have been had she have lived longer. I mean, I don't doubt for a second that had she have been writing into her. 50s, 60s, 70s. She would have been one of the most prominent literary figures. You have this really, you know, I'm coming at this as a poet and someone who enjoys reading poetry. You have this really strong sense of self already at this very early stage. You know, 21, I mean, at this point she was maybe writing she was 19, 20 years old. She has an incredible grasp of her own poetic voice of what she intends to do with this collection, with this poem. And I think you summarized it so well.

I think the way that we see her kind of, I guess, intermittently crossing boundaries, but also recrossing, just brings them closer together. We are constantly taking kind of leaps of faith, you know. We're taking a leap from the Lake District to France, to Italy, to her home in Kolkata, all the way back again. And these links very much, as I say, sit outside of time. There is a timelessness to this poem that I think, again, just offers a really strong, resolute sense of what this speaker is, you know, and it's something that I find really touching as a biracial

poet myself, someone who has written about these things, has struggled to reconcile those two parts of my identity. It really sits quite close to home for me. And I think it's very easily missed by potentially Western readers who only have the singular length. How skillfully she dances between these two, the way that she brings later in the poem, water lilies, a moon-blooming flower into kind of English shores and bays is just so wonderful. And this is me just having a moment to say how brilliant her writing is outside of just an analysis piece. But you're absolutely right. These kind of liminal spaces are something that we get the impression that her as a speaker, as a poet, is familiar with. And that familiarity, I think, is a strength

of this poem. We don't get the impression of, I guess, displacement here. We get the impression that this is something she is so comfortable with, so familiar with, and is able to dance very deftly between the two cultures, the two identities, the two languages. And I think that that scale can't be undervalued in this poem. It is so, so prominent. And, you know, it's not just in this first stanza. You know, I'm conscious that we are already halfway through our time for this episode and we haven't even moved on to the later stanzas. So I think it's probably about time. I completely agree with you. But actually, just as you were speaking there, something occurred to me, and it's, again, related to this issue of liminal space in the poem,

but also those kind of irreconcilable differences in her own life that this poem seeks to resolve. You mentioned the question about height earlier on and the significance of the height of the tree. Obviously, I mentioned how the earth is kind of representative of the mortal world and the sky for generations was unreachable and was representative of the immortal world, the godly world, the world of heaven. The height of this tree means it's able to bridge that binary divide, this irreconcilable space between heaven and earth. And I can't help but wonder whether or not the significance of the tree being able to do the impossible in that way is somehow representative of this poem, which of course has the tree in its title, being able to bridge the

divide between these two parts of her life, her life in India and her life in Europe. And so that just occurred to me as you were speaking. And on the issue of liminal space later in the poem, you mentioned the shingle beach. And I want to zoom in on that if we can, because it's a really interesting an unusual description. So we're in the third stanza here. And towards in the third stanza, she writes these lines, what is that dirge-like murmur that I hear, like the sea breaking on a shingled beach? And what I love about this is it completely wrong foots me as a reader, because everything that normally we associate in literature with, the sound of the ocean, the waves breaking upon the shore. On the one hand, we have very beautiful imagery. It's a scene that's very atmospheric. But the sea is

normally this symbol of opportunity, of travel, of expansion, of going somewhere where you haven't gone before, it's the great unknown. And yet here, the sound is associated with death. And we get that sense because of the word dirge, a funeral dirge that you might associate with the loss of a loved one. And again, it's so subtle and you might miss it. But to her, to Torudat, the sound of the waves upon the shore is a reminder that she has to leave. Is a reminder that she's getting on a boat to go home, to go back to India to a place that she feels she can't be the person and the poet she wants to be. And it's so subtly done, but the ability to take recognisable images, recognisable sounds with a well-established list of connotations and completely subvert them through her own personal

lens of loss and irreconcilability is one of the brilliant things about this plan. What do you think, Ma? Is there anything else in that line that you want to touch upon? It's interesting, actually, that you talk about kind of the subversion of those familiar traits, because one of the lines that stood out to me every time I read this poem was the water lilies spring like snow in mass. And now water lilies, as I mentioned before,

they are a moon-blooming flower, which means they bloom as the moon comes out and then they close again as the day rises. So the reason that this line, the water-lily spring like snow in mast, stands out to me, is because one, I think it's worth noting that Dutt was able to speak and write Sanskrit. And in Sanskrit mythology,

Water lilies are often used as a night blooming flower. And part of what that represents is obviously the sense of opportunity, of purity of innocence that blooms when the moon comes out. And the word I'd like to focus on that helps to undercut this is spring. Because of course, the season of spring represents new growth, new life. When you talk about a spring of water, it is something that kind of breaks through the cracks to bring water to you. And yet the second part of this line, We explore snow en masse.

Now, for listeners, just to clarify, in massed in this sense, meaning lots and lots of it, they're massing, which means that they are kind of creating a large amount of. And of course, for Western readers, snow is something that limits growth. It is a sign of winter, not spring. And when we talk about the seasons here, instead of seeing the water lilies as something that can bring new growth and new life to her, as Joe mentioned, she is establishing that there is a fear to return to her home country because of how she needs to navigate these kind of new ways of life. The snow here represents something that is frozen and stagnant.

She is returning to something and it is not the place that has changed. That has stayed exactly the same, but it is her that has changed. And as such, her entire view as to the way that she views the natural elements of the city, of the world, of, you know, her existence there, she feels as if she's returning to something that is frozen in time. And I think it's excellent that in such a small line, we get this impression of stagnancy. And that is something that in itself brings a little bit of fear with it as well. Because, of course, returning to something and knowing it's going to be exactly the same,

in many ways is reassuring. But of course, if you have changed, if you have left, you would expect there to be some differences. So to return to something knowing that you are different than when you left, the question is asked is, will you still fit in? Will you still be able to live your life the way that you want to? And it's a really, really powerful question, I think, brought about by the second stanza. But what do you think, Joe? Well, that was brilliant, Maya, first and foremost. I'm so interested in this symbol of the water that is because, again, it has such a different slant

depending on your immediate point of reference. Obviously, one thing that's worth pointing out sort of very mundane is it it doesn't snow in Kolkata. So this image of the snow is literally out of place, if indeed this scene is in Kolkata. But what that does really is that it makes it all the more interesting because Maya and I were discussing before this episode, before we began recording about where exactly are we here? Is this somebody who has returned to India

writing a memory of India when they were a child, having been away in the interim? That's probably the most likely moment in which Dutt is right. writing this poem. But what I love about it is there is a real ambiguity about whether or not the distance that we feel from this tree in this scene is geographical, temporal or both. And what I mean by that is, is Dutt literally far away from this scenery and thus her memory of it is painted with her immediate surroundings? Is this a poem written in Europe where there is more snow about a scene in India and kind of the imagery that surrounds her while she's writing it is beginning to find

its way into the poem itself. That's one option. Or, as we suspect, is this simply somebody who's wrestling with this feeling of being dislocated from her own childhood, as many of us do feel, even when you're in the same place? I mean, anybody who enjoyed our episode on Japanese poetry, that wonderful haiku in Kyoto, where we discussed the possibility that you can be physically in a place and yet feel far away from it, normally because you have changed, even if the places remain the same, like Maya mentioned. So there's so many questions around physical space, temporal distance in this poem that is brilliantly encapsulated in this line. And one thing that I would just look to highlight, and again, for many Western readers or indeed readers around the world,

the image of Waterlilies that comes to mind might well be a very different one. And for me, it's very much that image of Monet's paintings of Waterlilis, the great French impressionist painter. It's worth noting that he doesn't paint his first Waterlily until the 1890s. So when this poem is written and conceived, it is done so without that visual cue that so many of us have in the 21st century, this iconic painter who painted this flower repeatedly in his home in France. And the reason that's so important to understand this, and Maya and I've talked about this in previous episodes of the podcast, is that art and poetry never stands still. It is constantly being reworked, reimagined, reinterpreted, reinterpreted, reinterpreted, through the

contexts that came after it, right? If you're writing something about water lilies before Monet, people who are reading it after Monet are going to look at it through the lens of those paintings and it's so important for us we were talking about this earlier on in today's episode about the context of Indian independence and how that changes the way in which

this poem can be viewed and who knows how people will be viewing this poem in a hundred years depending on the makeup of the world the makeup of the climate climate change changes the way that we view these things any poetry that discusses snow is going to be interesting in the next hundred years as snow becomes rarer and rarer in Europe because of climate change, etc. Indian economic changes, Indian social

changes in the next hundred years will change the way this poem is interpreted. So it's really important to whenever you're analysing a poem, and this applies to people like Maya and I who do this a lot, but also people who analyze poems or just read poems occasionally, is to always approach it with a sense of humility. Because even if you're really, really confident that you know what a poem is about or you've got something from it, you might have something right now. But remember that that is constantly in flux, every conversation around art and poetry is an ongoing conversation that will be altered by factors that we literally cannot conceive of right now because we don't know what they are. We have no idea who might write a poem about this tree

in the future that will change the way the tree is perceived. We have no idea who might write a song about snow that will change the way we conceive of snow forever. We don't know who the next Monet will be to reconfigure the public's imagination of water lilies. And yeah, it's always important to retain a sense of humility when you're analyzing a poem, whether you're an expert or whether you're a beginner, because people who come after you will look back at your own interpretations and they will probably not give you the benefit of doubt they should do. And we want to give benefit of doubt to former readers and lovers of this poem. It's a really interesting theory that you bring up that actually the reinvention of art and poetry and symbolism and language is something that is constantly in flux. And this poem, you know, to really zoom forward to the final stanza, actually does this in itself. I mentioned earlier that there is a reference to Borrowdale and specifically some U-trees in Borrowdale, which is part of the Lake District. And I find here that what Dutt is doing is doing a reinvention herself. She is reinventing an image that Wordsworth put forward of some evergreen U-trees

and the power that they hold, reinventing it for herself as the Casua Arena tree. Because if we track to this final stanza, there is the line, with deathless trees like those in Borrowdale under whose awful branch lingered pale, fear, trembling hope and death the skeleton, and time the shadow. Now, of course, this sits very much at odds to the beautiful language that we've seen throughout this poem. This is something that incite fear and terror and something that is very kind of, you know, nightmareish in itself. Now, these lines are lifted from William Wordsworth's Eutri's poem written around 1803, I believe. And in this poem, he's talking about the power of nature,

a very traditional romantic poem in that sense. He explores the power and the presence of these yew trees in a field in the Lake District. And he mentions all of these really specific kind of slightly nightmarish supernatural elements that allude to the power of these yew trees. Now, of course, the yew tree in very similar ways to the Kazuorina tree, with an evergreen tree, they last for a very long time, they live for thousands of years. They are a little bit ornamental, we would say. They are an incredibly strong hardy wood, and that in part is what makes them last so long.

And of course, they outlive many, many humans. They outlive generations because they live for so long. That is what scares Wordsworth in his poem. It is something that insights a little bit of fear in him. They have this absolutely wonderful ancient history that accompanies them. But in that way, he finds that the idea, the image of kind of his skeleton or other people deaths surround this tree and yet it just kind of lords over them. But this is so different to the Kazuorina tree that we get in Dut's poem, because instead of seeing it as a monument to death,

a monument to the temporary nature of human life, she instead makes it a monument to life itself. She makes it something that can pull all of those spirits, all of those souls, reach across those liminal spaces we were talking about. And actually instead, she directly asks oblivion to not take this tree. She wants it to continue. She wants it to stand as a memory because for her it has such positive connotations of the memories that she shared with her siblings, of the history that accompanies it, that even though that may be frozen in time in some ways, the idea that it will outlast her is something that brings her comfort. And I love the way that that is kind of a reworking of this symbolism, because instead of a tree that is evergreen producing fear,

it now produces comfort. And again, there will be poets. that, you know, I'm sure I haven't even read that are writing about U-Trees and Kazuarina trees now that probably have a very different interpretation. But it's what you were saying, Joe, you have this real progress that carries on through singular motifs. And I just think the way that she reworks, you know, a beloved English poet as well, might I add, is very, very clever because standing alongside British poets, English poets, and trying to make a name for yourself in the English language is one thing. Setting yourself against them is an entire.

different one. I think that was great, Meyer, and I think that on the thing I mentioned earlier on about humility as a reader, there is a real sense of humility as a writer here. There is this sense of an awareness of one's own mortality and the brevity of one's own life compared to the enormity of nature. There is an awareness that in writing this poem about this species of tree, Dutt, is contributing to that tree's iconography. But it's only a contribution and the tree itself will live on far longer than she will. And, you know, we talk so often in homes we've discussed in the podcast, I mean, as recently as our last episode on My Last Duchess about this belief that art will sustain an artist's reputation and art is the only thing that can outlast the passage of

time because it's not mortal, it doesn't perish, and that somehow the writer or the artist can kind of piggyback on the immortality of art to themselves become immortal. And whilst there's a great deal of truth to that, and we spoke about it in My Last Duchy, spoke about it in an episode we did an Ossimandias as well in a previous series. There is also a degree of arrogance there. There is a degree of wishing to kind of propel oneself into the future and insert oneself into tomorrow's conversation. And there is none of that here.

There is a real sense of calmness in the face of one's own mortality. And I mentioned earlier on about the kind of prophetic associations of the tree possibly linked to that image of Python in the ancient Greek canon. It feels as though in some level Dut knew that she didn't have long to live. And that might seem ridiculous because, you know, how would she possibly have known this poem was written at least a couple of years before she died? Well, you know, remember she had seen two of her siblings pass away from the same disease that eventually killed her. There is a real sense that she knew she didn't have long and she has come to terms

with that. But she is nevertheless fortunate to contribute to this thing that will outlast her and will outlast everybody indeed that she knows. And it's a really interesting counterpoint to some of those other poems we've discussed. Absolutely. And now I'm really conscious of time now because we are running out of time for this episode. So, Joe, can I ask, is there anything you want to wrap this kind of poem up with? Is there anything you really want to pinpoint to the reader that is important? Yeah, I think so. I think if there's one thing that I should have said earlier on, I would always stress to listeners is pay close attention to poetic structure.

We talked about how this poem is drawing upon an English poetic tradition and it's largely written at Iambic anatamata, which is a very common meter in English poetry. but I'm interested in the rhyme scheme of this poem. It's a really interesting one where effectively you have each stanza laid out with two quatrains of enclosed rhymes. And I'll just explain what that means. Each stanza begins with A, B, B, B, A, meaning the two A rhymes enclose the middle rhymes. And then it continues, C, D, D, C, again, another enclosed rhyme. And for me, that immediately speaks to this image of the tree enclosed by the creeper,

this notion of entrapments that we spoke about earlier on. But crucially, each stanza ends with three independent rhymes, a kind of continuous E, E, ream. Which creates a real sense of momentum, almost as though those final rhymes are breaking free of the enclosure of the previous rhymes. And again, we can look at that in a personal way for Dutt, the idea that she was kind of maybe in Europe breaking three of the constraints that she had experienced in Indian society. If perhaps you're minded more towards the issue of Indian nationalism, you could look at that image of the rhymes breaking free of the constraints. of colonial rule. But there are so many ways to interpret something as simple as an evolving rhyme scheme over the course of stanza. So always remember as a listener, as a reader, I should say, to pay close attention to poetic structure because there's a wealth of interpretations available.

Well, I hope listeners have enjoyed that episode. I love discussing that burn with you. I could have done it for a long time more. It was a really rich, rich poetic discussion. Maya, can you tell listeners what we're going to be talking about next week? Yes, next week we have a very exciting one and a very, very long poem, if I do say, so I'm sure we're going to have a much longer episode because there is so much to cover. Next week we will be talking about the rhyme of the ancient mariner by Samuel Taylor Cooleridge. I for one cannot wait, but for now it's goodbye from me. And goodbye from me and the whole team at Permanalysis.com and poetry plus.