"Living Space" was written by Pakistan-born British poet Imtiaz Dharker. As the title might suggest, the poem describes someone's living space—that is, their home. Dharker has said that the poem describes a typical dwelling in the slums of the Indian city of Mumbai, but this isn't stated explicitly in the text itself. On the one hand, the poem highlights the precariousness of such homes. More significantly, however, it praises them as an expression of the miraculousness of life, seeing this living space as evidence of human resourcefulness and determination.
Nothing lines up—that's what's wrong here. Surfaces aren't flat and angles don't match. Ceiling beams are balanced precariously on their supports. Exposed nails hold parts of the house together. The structure is dangerous and could collapse, but it's also miraculous. Somebody has managed to make a home in this rough place. They've even been brave enough to hang eggs in a wire basket. Their delicate white shells are also balanced precariously, as if eggs were planets dangling over darkness that marks the edge of the universe. They seem to attract the light towards them, and their mere existence speaks of the power—and fragility—of faith.
“Living Space” is a poem about creating a place to live with few resources. Said by Dharker herself to describe the slums of Mumbai, India, the poem is a snapshot of a home that doesn’t have straight lines, solid walls, or secure ceilings. Instead, this “structure leans dangerously,” indicating its fragility—but it leans “towards the miraculous” too. “Living Space,” then, is really about the remarkable ability of humanity to make homes in all sorts of places and conditions—and to fill these homes with life.
On a technical level, there is a lot wrong with the dwelling described in the poem. This place doesn’t have “straight lines” or “flat” surfaces. Instead, it is a “rough frame” into which “someone has squeezed / a living space.” This home isn’t particularly safe either. Ceiling beams are balanced precariously, and nails protrude from the walls. The point, though, is not to criticize the construction, but to praise the fact that it exists at all. This home is somewhat improvised, put together by someone without much building expertise—but with plenty of grit and determination. This testifies to the resourcefulness of humanity to set up a home pretty much wherever it goes.
Thus while on the surface this is a dangerous living situation, there’s also something “miraculous” about it. Indeed, running through the poem is a sense that all life is fragile, and that its existence in any shape or form is a kind of miracle. Despite having very little to their name, the occupant of this house makes a life for themself—and this is something to be celebrated, suggests the poem. (There could also be multiple occupants—the poem doesn’t say.)
The resourcefulness of the person who lives in this space is then symbolized by the “eggs in a wire basket.” These, too, represent life and are, of course, extremely fragile. Like the house itself, it wouldn’t take much to break these eggs. But they aren’t broken, and instead are waiting there to be used in cooking, to become part of the occupant’s everyday existence.
Focusing on the image of the eggs, the poem then widens its metaphorical perspective. Suddenly, the poem is no longer just talking about this one particular dwelling, or even the Mumbai slums in general—this is about the entirety of humanity. Crowded onto planet Earth, the human population itself is “hung out over the dark edge / of a slanted universe.” For all its technological advancement, complexity of thought, and instinctive resourcefulness, humanity too is like a bunch of eggs suspended in a precarious situation. For instance, an asteroid might hit the earth, or humanity might destroy itself through war. All life, then, is perched on a structure both dangerous and miraculous.
That’s why the poem ends with a mention of faith. Behind human resourcefulness is a kind of belief in the value and worth of life—that, the poem indicates, is why this person has put so much effort into making a home, even if they don’t have the resources to build it in a more structurally sound way. This is a kind of faith in everyday existence, that life has meaning and is worth working for. But, as with the living space and the eggs, this faith too is fragile, protected only by “bright, thin walls.”
There are just ...
... or parallel.
The poem's title signals that what follows will be about some kind of home. Dharker herself has said that she had the slums of Mumbai, India in mind when she wrote this poem—but that location isn't specifically referenced in the poem, nor is it necessary for making sense of the poem's setting and broader significance.
The first thing to notice about the poem is its slenderness. Most of the lines are very short, making the poem appear thin on the page. Even before the poem starts, then, there is a suggestion both of construction (the poem itself) and fragility (the thin, almost wispy block of text).
In the poem's opening lines, the speaker launches into a kind of survey of the building in question. The speaker evaluates the dwelling's appearance, implicitly comparing it with a more typically constructed house. Whereas houses usually (and, of course, it's important to remember that this is a generalization) are designed with "straight lines," "parallel" angles, and "flat" surfaces, this building is missing all of those stabilizing features. The speaker is not being critical, necessarily, but rather seems to be making a set of observations that informs the reader of the structure's precariousness—it shouldn't stand strong, yet it does.
Enjambment and caesura are key techniques that the poem uses to convey this precariousness throughout. The line-break after "enough" in line 1 makes the meaning of the line incomplete until line 2, which then has an intentionally awkward caesura after the word "lines." This means that "That" in line 2 becomes a fragment, which is then completed by line 3 ("is the problem"). The haphazard way that the sentences unfold mimics the improvised method with which the living space has been put together.
At the same time, the sentences do make sense—that is, the grammar itself isn't fragmented or disrupted. So the poem is also suggesting structural soundness because, after all, the home is a functional living space—it works. This underlying coherence is also hinted at by the assonance in "flat" and "parallel," the vowel sounds hanging together like the dwelling itself. The same is true of the "that"/"flat" rhyme across lines 2 and 4, and the /t/ consonance that runs throughout these opening lines: "just," "not," "straight," "That," "flat."
Beams ...
... at open seams.
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... towards the miraculous.
Into this rough ...
... curves of white
hung out over ...
... walls of faith.
The eggs are the centerpiece of "Living Space," working both as a symbol in their own right and allowing the poem to widen its perspective. On a literal level, the eggs are a sign of life—that is, they show that "someone" actively lives in this living space. The eggs are part of the daily existence of this "someone," suspended in the basket so that they can be eaten later. In this sense, then, the eggs represent nourishment and sustenance, the ongoing determination to live life. And because eggs sometimes hatch new life, they often represent cycles of life more generally, so that broader sense of life's persistent continuation is present here as well.
But the poem also borrows another characteristic from the eggs in order to broaden its discussion. Dharker herself has described this poem as an "image of fragility," and the eggs are part of this. The delicateness of their shells is a mirror for the precariousness of the dwelling in which the eggs are stored. As the poem widens out to discuss the "universe" and "faith," this central image of fragility also speaks to the way that human beings are, ultimately, in a similar situation. That is, the existence of life on earth is itself a miraculous improbability that stands as testament to life's ability to adapt and survive. Note also how the whiteness of the egg shells contrasts with the foreboding "dark edge" of the "slanted universe," further suggesting just how miraculous and tenuous the existence of life is within a broadly inhospitable world.
But for all humankind's technological advancement and civilized development, it's still a precarious existence—human civilization could end at any time, just as the eggs could break, so the poem argues that that's all the more reason to value it in the meantime.
Alliteration is used throughout “Living Space.” As with assonance and consonance, its main purpose here is to suggest a haphazard kind of design and construction that is nonetheless effective. Using sonic devices like alliteration is the poem’s way of mirroring both the improvised nature of the “living space” in question and its precariousness—the way it seems to be at risk of collapse, yet somehow stays standing. So alliteration is achieving two seemingly contradictory aims, suggesting both strength and weakness in terms of the poem’s—and the living space’s—construction.
An early significant example of alliteration occurs across the enjambment between lines 5 and 6:
or parallel. Beams
balance crookedly on supports
The sound of this alliteration is strong, but it’s isolated, suggesting its own strange mix of strength and precariousness. Broken across two lines, it also mirrors the “crooked[ness]” with which the ceiling beams are balanced in the living space. That is, the beams should be at the same height, but they’re not. Likewise, the two /b/s, which belong together, are placed on two different levels, with the second lower on the page. “Crookedly” and “clutch” also alliterate, but are further apart—the sounds ring out together, but they are placed differently from the two /b/s. This suggests inconsistency: the dwelling’s lack of “straight lines” or “parallel” angles.
Lines 12 and 13 use alliteration a little differently:
someone has squeezed
a living space
Here, /s/ consonants begin three out of the lines’ six words. This literally squeezes a single sound repeatedly into a small space, neatly portraying the way that “someone” lives in this tiny, improvised structure.
The other key example of alliteration occurs throughout the last six lines. Often, sounds distributed among this many lines wouldn’t necessarily ring out together, but these lines are so short that they do. A gentle, wispy /th/ sound features throughout:
hung out over the dark edge
...
gathering the light
into themselves,
as if they were
the bright, thin walls ...
This sound effectively communicates the thinness of the eggs’ shells, the precariousness of the “living space,” and the “miraculous” existence of life itself—in other words, the sound works hard to support the poem’s meaning!
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Parts of a structure that support a ceiling, often made out of wood.
Form is one of the first things that any reader will notice about "Living Space." The poem doesn't use an established poetic form. Instead, it unfolds on the page as one single block of text.
This single stanza an important aspect of the poem for a number of reasons. First, the way that the lines all cling together represents the living space itself—the way that the dwelling is held together by whatever materials are at hand, and without any particular design. The speaker describes how the dwelling looks like it should collapse—but it doesn't. So the security of the poetic form—the way that no lines break off into new stanzas—shows the structural integrity of the dwelling in question.
This single block of text also allows for some other interesting relationships between formal aspects of the poem and the world that it describes. The short lines, for example, work with caesura and enjambment to suggest that—while the structure is still standing—it's also very precarious. The way that the first three sentences are broken across lines and abruptly stopped by caesuras is reflective of the improvised way in which this home has been put together.
The poem also uses its form to represent "edge[s]" like the one mentioned in line 17 ("the dark edge"). In particular, line 9 ("The whole structure leans dangerously") is the longest line in the poem and literally leans out into the white space of the page, mirroring the way that the living space is exposed to the elements and the risk of its own collapse. In lines 17 and 18 ("hung out" through "slanted universe"), a similar effect is achieved, with both lines taking advantage of their shortness to place "edge" and "universe" at the literal edges of the poem.
"Living Space" is not written with any specific meter. The intentionally haphazard distribution of stresses throughout the lines helps represent the improvised way in which the living space has been put together. (Dharker has said this poem is based on the type of place that is held together by "sticks and sellotape and string.")
This effect is particularly noticeable in line 9, one of the most important lines in the poem:
The whole structure leans dangerously
Think how different this would sound if it had a solid and regular meter, for instance one relying on iambs:
The structure is at risk of falling down
This would give the line an inappropriate sense of security and stability, whereas the lack of regular meter fits logically with the idea of the shaky, uneven "living space."
"Living Space" doesn't have a rhyme scheme. As with a regular meter, a consistent rhyme scheme would be too structural and formal for this poem. It would be at odds with what the poem is actually describing: a home that has been built in a distinctly informal way.
The poem does use a few rhymes here and there, though. Line 2's "That" rhymes with "flat" at the end of line 4, and "Beams" in line 5 rhymes with line 8's "seams." These rhymes are like subtle suggestions of design and structure. After all, the "living space" is just that—a functioning home, made for that purpose. The rhymes, then, as with the poem's examples of alliteration, assonance, and consonance, allow the poem to suggest that, for all its apparent faults, this dwelling does work for the person (or people) who lives there.
Two other moments of rhyme achieve a similar effect. The "space"/"place" rhyme across lines 12 and 13 also suggests construction and intent, and their close proximity to one another represents the smallness of the physical space. "White," "light," and "bright" in lines 16, 19, and 22 also ring out loud and clear, momentarily turning up the brightness of the poem's sound and supporting its hopeful conclusion.
The speaker in "Living Space" is unspecified. The speaker in this poem acts as an external observer, though they are not entirely detached. Indeed, the speaker makes both implicit and explicit judgments throughout the poem.
In the first few lines, the speaker seems to only criticize the living space's haphazard construction, calling it "the problem." Nothing lines up properly, the speaker says, and all the angles are off. From the start of the poem through the end of line 9 ("leans dangerously"), the speaker is almost like a building surveyor, casting a judgemental eye on the fragility of the building.
But in line 10("towards the miraculous"), the poem turns, and the speaker's true opinion becomes clear. The speaker wasn't necessarily criticizing the living space, but just being factual. In fact, the speaker ultimately praises the living space, seeing it as evidence of "the miraculous." The occupant of the living space doesn't seem to be around, but the speaker notices a sign of life when they look at the eggs hanging in the wire basket. In the poem's closing lines, the speaker opens up the poem's perspective to end on a hopeful note, implicitly suggesting that life itself—its existence and its continuation—is a kind of miracle.
Dharker herself has stated that this poem is set in the slums of Mumbai, a major city in India. These are places where people live in extreme poverty, and have to improvise to survive. Dharker has characterized these types of homes as the sort made with "sticks and sellotape and string." However, this isn't a criticism—the poem praises the determination of people to live their lives and make homes for themselves in difficult circumstances. Furthermore, the Mumbai link isn't explicit in the poem itself, and therefore it isn't an essential part of understanding the poem; the general setting could really be anywhere that people have to figure out how to survive on limited resources.
As the title indicates, the poem's more precise setting is someone's "living space." This is a home that seems to have been made by the person (or people) who lives there, who improvised with whatever materials were at hand. The structure is therefore somewhat precarious, with wonky angles and delicately balanced beams. But, as the title also suggests with its use of the word "living," the poem's emphasis is on how this space is itself evidence of life, and proof of something "miraculous" despite its seeming flaws.
Imtiaz Dharker is a British poet who was born in Pakistan in 1954. Though born in Lahore, the Pakistani capital, Dharker mostly grew up in Glasgow, Scotland, where her family moved when she was one year old. Dharker studied at the University of Glasgow, graduating with an M.A. in English Literature and Philosophy. She was married to Simon Powell, the founder of a network of poetry events for young people, who died in 2009 from cancer. She divides her time between London and Mumbai, with the slums of the latter city providing part of the inspiration for this poem.
Dharker has published numerous books of poetry, mostly with the publisher Bloodaxe Books. Common themes between the books include questions of identity, home and exile, cultural displacement, and community. Similar themes can be found in Carol Rumens's "The Emigrée" and W. H. Auden's "Refugee Blues." Other poets have also used the home as a metaphor for human relationships, as can be seen in Simon Armitage's "Mother, any distance."
Dharker's poetry is well-established, featuring on the GCSE syllabus in the U.K. and earning Dharker a Cholmondeley Prize in 2011 and a Queen's Gold Medal in 2014. She is also a member of the Royal Society of Literature. In addition to her poetry, Dharker also works as an artist and a documentary maker.
"Living Space" offers little in terms of specific historical context. Dharker has said that she had the slums of Mumbai, India in mind when writing this poem—in particular the "fragility" of those homes and the resourcefulness of the people who put them together with whatever materials are at hand. Despite India's recent rapid economic growth, around 42 percent of the population of Mumbai (India's largest city) is estimated to live in slums. The largest of these is Dharavi, which has a population of around 700,000 people. Much of this density of population is due to migration, with people moving to the city because of the hope for a better life (with improved economic opportunity).
Part of the poem's intention seems to be to highlight the miraculous and vibrant expression of life that these slums represent. Even though they are difficult and impoverished places to live, they are also places of hope, since the people there persist with their lives despite immense challenges. And though Mumbai was the specific place that inspired the poet, the poem itself doesn't reveal a particular location, indicating that these same ideas could apply to similarly difficult living situations around the world.
Dharker's Website — The poet's own website, with details of Dharker's other poems and films.
Mumbai Poems — Contemporary Indian poets select some of their favorite Mumbai poetry.
More Poems by Dharker — A valuable resource from the Poetry Archive.
A Reading — The poem read by the poet herself.
An Interview with Dharker — An informal chat with the poet.