O’ Trees of Bengaluru, May Your Tribe Increase

Dinesh Srivastava

We moved to Bengaluru about five years ago, after living in Mumbai for 10 years and in Kolkata for forty years. The Frau was very excited about our move to Bengaluru, after years of hot and humid Kolkata. I tried to tell her that, we were going to miss the excellent spread of sweets and mishti doi (sweet curd), the fabulous feasts during weddings and many festivals, and the splendour and magnificence of the celebration of Durga Puja. Her reply was simple, “We shall see”. You see, we are rudderless boats cast in the ocean called India, constantly buffeted by the winds, waves, and cyclones of ‘papi pet ka sawal’ aka job, having moved out of our village from one of the poorest districts of India when I was twelve and then out of the nearest city- on the bank of the Ganges when I was eighteen. I have been so far away and for so long, that I get to speak my mother tongue only when I talk to my siblings.

These wonderings- including the extended stays in Europe, the USA, and Canada etc., have led to the evolution and development of a defence and survival mechanism. Thus, our eyes have developed an acute sense which helps them look for and treasure even the slightest sights and sounds which can endear our current place of stay to us and lessen the pangs of separation from our home and the pains of being an eternal refugee. Thus, emboldened and fortified, we march on- to face difficulties, slights, inconveniences, new friendships,  victories, and snide remarks, taking them all in our strides.

For example- the first thing I told The Frau- who loves walking on footpaths to inhale and internalise the sights, the sounds, and the smells of a city- was that there were no reasonable footpaths in Bengaluru, at least in the area we were to live and work. She charged me with trying to discourage her, as I had done every day during our married life and started preparing to move.

When we arrived, we were told that Namma Bengaluru (my Bengaluru) was a city of lakes. Not long afterwards, we realised that yes, there were several thousand lakes across the city at one time. And yes, in that golden era they were even connected- lovingly sharing their bounties and hardships, but only a few hundred survive. The rest have vanished like the proverbial bridges and roads whose existence is often privileged information, and which have either metamorphosed as ultra-modern housing complexes or uber-congested colonies. We had also been told that it was an airconditioned city, but soon we started feeling the need for one. Out disappointments were mounting.

Till we went to Cubbon Park and Lal Bag! We immediately fell in love with it- the majestic trees of Cubbon Park and the majestic trees, vast lake, languorous walkways, and vibrant flowering beds of Lal Bag. We were told that the tree selection in Lal Bag was such that one or the other tree was covered with flowers as the seasons changed. But then it was far away from where we lived or rather could afford to live.

The chaotic traffic even around our remote housing complex was so bad that I could not see the most beautiful objects that the city has to offer- its trees! With some trials, I adjusted my journeys to and from my work to times when the traffic was leaner. It was then that I noticed the magnificent rain trees (shiris), their ample girths testifying to their antiquity, joining their vast and dense canopies from the two sides of the road and making a green tunnel for me to drive dreamily. I loved to see their leaves folding onto themselves when the sun went down.  When it got hot and other trees were done with shedding their leaves and getting shiny new ones, and flowered and dropped all their flowers- the rain trees took over. No wonder that our beloved Hindi writer Hazari Prasad Dwivedi was so fond of them. They beckoned me lovingly under their canopy of pinkish flowers- looking like mini-crests of cranes shining adamantly and proudly, surrounded by glistening leaves, their canopy spread like a giant floral print. Looking below, I could see their little thread-like orange/yellow petals covering the roads and blown around by the gentlest breeze. By evening, these would all be collected near the curves of the road on either side.

Not to be outdone- the pongamia (karanj or honge) trees, though not very tall or thick, but with very dense foliage of lush green glistening leaves, spread a carpet of their pinkish-white flowers. After some effort, I was able to go to work before the municipal workers started sweeping them out of the way. The pink trumpet and yellow trumpet are other trees which spread a lovely carpet on the road. I love to drive before these are swept aside and yet almost cry out in anguish as my tyres crush them. Then, there is this lone tree of harsingar (Parijat), its pleasant smell reaches me well before I see it, with yet another carpet of snow-white flowers with an orange-red centre. Another one of my favourites growing all over the city is African tulip. I wonder what simile Kalidas would have given to its bright orange-red flowers covering its green leaves like floral prints of a green silk saree.

Just when I start getting annoyed by the men and women overtaking me from left and right and taking a sudden left or right turn in front of me, without giving me any signal- the jarul trees soothe my nerves with their light purple flowers or the gold trees fill me with hope with their plentiful shiny yellow flowers and akash mallika (the tree jasmine) with its tender fragrance and white trumpet-like flowers bring me peace. After all, it had brought peace to quarrelling wives of Lord Krishna- what had planted it in the courtyard of Satyabhama, while its flowers fell in the courtyard of Rukmini!

The months of March and April also see the flowering of the neem and the jamun trees- along with ample food for a variety of birds! I wish that there were many more kachanar trees, though, for they attract the lovely sunbirds and bees while filling their surrounding with the gentlest fragrance.

At one time, I had struggled to know the name of the tree with brown, large cucumber-like fruits, and long ropes of flowers hanging from them, after seeing them in Jammu, Manipur, and Mandu- only to know that it came to India from Africa in two waves- first with the Arab merchants and then with the British- the sausage tree. Now sausage tree is so common in Bengaluru that it is found even in narrow lanes- giving me immense delight. I did notice a cannon ball tree too along one of the roads- which always reminded me of one such tree in the garden of one of the institutes in Chennai, which had hundreds of birds living on it, who performed, every morning and evening, throughout the year. I am so very happy to see long rows of flowering ashoka trees, silk cotton trees, palas, jacaranda, and the amaltas trees- with their wonderful flowers like a golden shower. I am also happy that the false ashoka (pendula ashoka)- beloved of the rich for their gardens, is not so common here. It is a pleasure to see all the jackfruit trees laden with their large fruits as we walk around some rich neighbourhoods.

I am delighted that peepal trees are so quite common in Bengaluru, and one even gets to see an occasional banyan tree. Even though I dislike the ever-present eucalyptus, it does impress me with its height and milky white trunk. Silver oak trees abound in some areas. I admire the jugad of bougainvillaea, which uses trees to climb up and dazzle us with its flowers from great heights when the sun starts getting cruel.

The multi-tiered wild almond trees look most magnificent after winter- when their large leaves turn yellow, rust-red, dark rust-red, and drop almost in unison, and are quickly replaced by new translucent green leaves- which get darker green by the day and bunches of flowers developing into fruits.

Just when the traffic to the airport starts giving me anxious moments the row of flowering cherries, gives me hope with their flowers or with the promise of flowers. The rows of teaks, with their large leaves and bouquet like flowers, the royal palms, occasional fish-tail palms, occasional date palms, and of course abundance of coconut palms, add their bit in making me happy.

The evergreen- Norfolk pine was known to me from my days in Kolkata- where it is rather popular. But there is a difference- the Norfolk pines of Bengaluru are ramrod straight and grow to heights of 60 to 80 feet or even more towering over their neighbours and modest multistorey buildings. The older Norfolk pines of Kolkata are often bent and struggle to keep their crest pointing up. It is known that these trees can grow to heights of 150 feet or even more and remain ramrod straight despite facing strong winds. A highly decorated botanist friend of mine, on enquiry, speculated that the Norfolk pines of Kolkata may be getting bent due to excess water in the soil there. Who knows?

Then one day, 3 years ago, as I drove down a low fly-over, my eyes witnessed a most surreal sight. On the right of the road stood a giant gulmohar tree covered with bright red flowers. And on the left of the road stood two copper pod trees covered with vibrant yellow flowers. And their branches mingled above the road, forming a canopy of vibrant red and yellow flowers. The setting sun cast an ethereal glow over them. I wondered, if the famed author Amitav Gosh, writing about the affair of Raja Neel Ratan and his mistress in his novel, Sea of Poppies- had seen something like this to describe the heap of intertwined and entangled yellow silk dhoti of Neel and the red silk saree of his mistress Elokeshi!

Be as it may, I now know that I am going to be in eternal love with Bengaluru, just because of its trees- may their tribe increase,   for they are giving me a lesson in tenacity amid rapid urbanisation and widening roads, by holding on to their shrinking spaces and still giving us whatever relief they can provide, in the face of the onset of global warming and climate change. And that is the only relief, as far as we can see.

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Bio: Dr D. K. Srivastava (born 1952) graduated from the Allahabad University, India in 1970 and joined the Training School at Bhabha Atomic Research Center, Mumbai and thereafter the Variable Energy Cyclotron Project in 1971. He retired as Distinguished Scientist and Director of the Variable Energy Cyclotron Center, Kolkata in 2016. After spending 3 more years there as DAE Raja Ramanna Fellow, he moved to National Institute of Advanced Studies, Bengaluru as Homi Bhabha Chair Professor, a position he held till August 2019. At present he is Honorary Visiting Professor and Indian National Science Academy Senior Scientist at National Institute of Advanced Studies, Bengaluru.

He is a Fellow of National Academy of Sciences, India, and Indian National Science Academy, recipient of several national and international awards- including outstanding referee award of American Physical Society, Outstanding Service Award for Nuclear Education by Indian Nuclear Society, Homi Bhabha Lecture Award of Institute of Physics, UK, and G. N. Ramchandran Award of Sastra University. He is editorial board member of several journals including Scientific Reports and MDPI Physics. He is honorary professor at Amity University, NOIDA, UP, and has held visiting positions at universities in USA, Germany, Canada, and South Africa of various durations. He has about 170 publications in refereed journals on physics of quark gluon plasma and low energy nuclear physics.

At present he is working on various aspects of climate change, renewable and nuclear energies, risk communication, education, and strategies for research, with about 30 papers on these topics. He has given about 600 talks on various aspects of his work and outreach. He has co-authored three books on science outreach, “Climate Change and Energy Options for a Sustainable Future”, “Art and Science of Managing Public Risks”, and “Science Beyond Border: International Collaborations in Basics Sciences”, which are published by World Scientific Publishing Company, Singapore. He has written two books of science stories for children (in Hindi and English), and two books of short stories in English.

A short story ‘Just a few leaves of Tulsi’ in English, and ‘Ammi ne aapko salam bheja hai’ in Hindi, were earlier published in Setu.

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Setu, May 2025