26 May,2018 05:33 AM IST | Mumbai | Sumedha Raikar Mhatre
Bougainvilleas liven up the most quotidian settings in the city, as seen in the pink blush near the Mahim-Dharavi link road. Pic/Pradeep Dhivar
The tree warranted an annual trimming by the municipal authorities. In two such authorised hackathons, the hackers first axed the branches; and the next year cut off the tilted trunk, paying no heed to complaints. While the reason for the bit-by-bit decimation was attributed to the impending danger to pedestrian and vehicular traffic, no thought or time was devoted to ways in which the tree could be rehabilitated in another spot. As the tirka wad became a memory, my bedroom window lost a natural green curtain; I lost a morning chai witness. Its thick elliptical leathery glossy-green leaves, up for grabs in the neighbourhood for wad poornima, triggered thoughts on solidity and staying power; its mesh of aerial roots growing downwards, encouraged an inner churning on ancestry, lineage, descent and the sub-conscious connect with parents after losing them bodily.
The ancient Amherstia Nobilis tree is the pride of the Fort campus, not just lending a dash of green, but a refreshing crimson-yellow mix at the beginning of the year.
Pic/Bipin Kokate
The Sitaladevi Temple Road currently has 105 trees - peepal, pine, wad, palm, Ashoka, and the yellow poinciana planted on either side - which makes for good company. Since no Metro Construction line runs through the stretch, trees continue to offer a refreshing source of sustenance. When things don't fall in place - newspaper front pages notify gore and deceit, college exams rescheduled at short notice, senior citizens tricked by chit fund managers, tur dal goes off the shelf, a neighbour's son dies of dengue - trees become an oasis of hope. They demonstrate the truth about the annual overhauling along with the promise of organic repair.
Even the Mumbai summer, which unquestionably saps up energy levels, turns pleasant because of the flower bearing trees. Apart from the blossom in gated precincts - the RCF colony in Chembur, Navy Nagar in Colaba, IIT Powai, Godrej compound in Vikhroli, Mount Mary church area in Bandra - the dash of colour in unlikely places is soothing. The white-pink chapha (Frangipani) on road dividers and traffic intersections makes me wonder about life in adverse settings. The daily drive on the Mahim-Dharavi link is educational in this context. Even the seemingly ordinary sooty Dharavi T-junction springs to life, thanks to a catchy pink bougainvillea which has the Mithi river swamp in the background and the Metro construction rubble in the foreground.
As one goes further towards SL Raheja Hospital, the pink flora merges with shades of orange and white - a cheerful hue that dares the plastic and human waste lying around. Who says good soil, weather and water are required for great trees? If that was the requirement, one wouldn't have seen the cherry blossom-like trumpet tree growth in parts of Borivali, Sion and along the Eastern Express Highway. A video clip capturing the pink florets against the blue sky recently went viral. Social media enthusiasts have seized similar bloom fests in the cacti-rich Five Gardens, ukshi (Calycopteris floribunda) bloom in the Yeoor Hills and the glory of Amherstia Nobilis in the Fort University Campus whose beginning-of-the-year seasonal flowers offer a refreshing crimson-yellow mix.
I am reminded of how the ten-year association with a Banyan tree shaped Jnanpith awardee Bhalchandra Nemade's literature and world view when he lived in the Kalina campus of Mumbai University. In a recent TV interview, he thanked the banyan for granting him an epic vision of humanity, a yearning to chronicle multiple narratives and civilizations. "I don't know if a banyan can sense gratitude, but I am indebted to it for being privy to its enormity and inclusiveness!" Like Dr Nemade, many residents feel a strong tree-connect. Last year, Rupali Deshingkar ferociously fought with the Thane municipal corporation's tree authority to save a 100-year-old Baobab tree at the Majiwada Circle.
Activist Zoru Bathena questioned the special powers of the municipal commissioner to decide on requests to cut or transplant up to 25 trees. Last month saw the formation of a citizens' group named Angholichi Goli (Bath Pill) whose guiding philosophy is to ask people (euphemistically) if they can skip one morning bath, to save water that can go towards the sustenance of trees. In their Nail Free Tree campaign, the group members walk various neighborhoods on Sunday mornings (latest stretch was from the mayoral bungalow to the Mahim neighborhood) to remove nails, posters, and other violations which trigger faster ageing of trees. Angholichi Goli will naturally take a while to cover the 30,00,000 trees in Mumbai and suburbs. But it is their "give life to what gives us life" accountability that stands out in the world's fourth-most polluted city where trees fend for themselves, without much parenting.
Sumedha Raikar-Mhatre is a culture columnist in search of the sub-text. You can reach her at sumedha.raikar@gmail.com
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