How the love for trees in Bengaluru, home to a biodiversity heritage site, is fast waning

A tree needs about 2-inch by 2-inch space and even that is not given. City planners don't consider the importance of indigenous trees. (Photos: Jayanthi Madhukar)

In an act of vandalism, Britain’s most famous tree was felled last month. The Sycamore Gap tree was hundreds of years old and its ‘murder’ hit the headlines world over as outrage poured in. The intangible value of a symbol that was associated with generations is inexplicable. In India, some of the unique and ecologically fragile ecosystems have been declared as national biodiversity sites.

Britain’s most famous tree, Sycamore Gap, was felled in an act of vandalism, in Northumberland, Britain, on September 28, 2023. (Photo: Lee Smith/Reuters)

The first biodiversity site in India, declared in 2007, is the Nallur Tamarind Grove, just 8 km from Bengaluru’s Kempegowda International Airport. The grove of around 287 tamarind trees is spread across 54 acres and is believed to have been planted in the 12th century during the reign of Chola king Rajendra Chola. A small board announces the grove which has the newly renovated Gangadevi Temple at its doorstep.

The newly renovated Gangadevi Temple, Bengaluru. (Photo: Jayanthi Madhukar)

The tamarind trees have gnarly twisted trunks and canopies reaching out to the sky. Some of the trees are about 400 years old. The trunks of the older trees are hollow with decay but there are young roots growing from the middle of the hollow trunks, supporting the trees. A series of root suckers have spread from the trunk roots of the trees, giving life to newer trees which are about 50-80 years old. This behaviour is unique to banyan trees and unusual for tamarind trees.

Tamarind trees. (Photo: Jayanthi Madhukar)

Local villagers refer to the grove as ‘devara kadu’ or forest of the gods. Harish Padmanabha, grandson of Rao Bahadur HC Javaraya — the first Indian superintendent of Lalbagh Botanical Gardens, says this kind of forest was prevalent across Karnataka. “The villagers would not touch the devara kaadu which were left for the gods,” he says. Meenakshi (35), who has lived all her life in Nallur village, says the tamarind fruits are still harvested and sold by the temple. Apart from the devara kadu, almost all villages had the ‘gundu thopus’ which were woodlots that were for the use of the villagers. “Our ancient wisdom was unmatched,” Padmanabha says. “People understood the value of indigenous trees and protected them.”

Today, the neglect of the unfenced grove is apparent. Two temples dating to the 14th century and built during the Vijayanagara reign are in ruins and historians have noted the disappearance of some of the relics as well. Meenakshi told stories of drunken soirées held in the grove at nighttime. Broken bottles and trash are seen amidst the heritage trees. The late Vijay Thiruvadi, who was a familiar sight at the Lalbagh Botanical Garden conducting the Green Heritage Walks, noted in his book ‘The Heritage Trees’ that age alone does not determine the heritage status for a tree. The size, species and special significance in history matter. Old time Bengalureans like Padmanabha rue at the neglect of heritage trees in the city. “It is our individual and collective responsibility to take care of the trees,” he says.

Suhas Shanbagh of Hasiru Ratha (left) and Harish Padmanabha (centre).

Since the Sacred Tamarind Grove is close to the airport, the area around it is already heading towards ‘development’ which has no place for trees. Suhas Shanbagh of Hasiru Ratha, a volunteer-driven group that plants new saplings and maintains existing trees in south Bengaluru, believes that in about 50 years or so, no new heritage trees will exist. “In the city, private properties make no provision for trees,” he says. “People don’t like roadside trees and many don’t allow the saplings planted in front of their houses to grow into trees. The existing trees are cut because they are ready to pay the penalty.” Just before this interview, he had gone to 4th Block Jayanagar to request a commercial establishment to allow a mature ‘honge maraa’ (Indian Beech Tree) to grow.

Trees of Bengaluru. (Photo: Jayanthi Madhukar)

“They have been regularly cutting it to stop it from growing.” He described another meeting, this time with a chief engineer of BBMP, which left him disheartened at the apathy towards trees in general, leave alone the priceless heritage trees. “Earlier, there would be trees at the gap of about 15’ from each other,” Shanbagh says. “Nowadays they put concrete on the pavement and then lay the tiles. So, our request to the chief engineer was to direct the contractors to leave gaps for the trees since it is hard for us to dig through the cement. He simply brushed off the request saying there is no space in the city for trees. Instead, he asked us to buy land outside and plant there.” Volunteers of Hasiru Ratha often face aggression from the residents and BBMP who often asks them to stop planting trees.  “A tree needs about 2-inch by 2-inch space and even that is not given,” Shanbagh sighs.

Trees of Bengaluru. (Photo: Jayanthi Madhukar)

“What our city planners don’t realise is the value of the indigenous trees,” Padmanabha says. “Most have medicinal properties and above all, act as heat sinks. Taking care of our heritage trees should be the responsibility of BBMP. My grandfather had applied the science of tree surgery in urban space landscaping which is an important exercise to be performed in arboriculture. Now it is not given any importance.”

In the bid to widen roads, build flyovers and the Metro, more and more heritage trees have been cut. In fact, about 90 per cent of the tree cover in the city has gone. Ironically, Bengaluru was once a bare plateau and the actual greening of the city began after the British defeated Tipu Sultan. Ficus, raintrees and even banyan trees were planted. When HC Javaraya decided to plant flowering trees like the varieties of tabebuias, Bengaluru became famous for its flowering trees. Unfortunately, ever since apartments have shot up, the city is on its way to become barren.

Sacred Grove, Bengaluru. (Photo: Jayanthi Madhukar)

“I am afraid for the Sacred Grove,” Meenakshi says. “So many people in our village are getting offers to sell their land. We are getting pushed and once we go away, these trees will go.”