Written by Sita Reddy, inspired
by Dr. Seuss’ The Lorax: “For I am the
Lorax. I speak for the trees. I speak for the Trufulla trees, for the trees
have no tongues”. Drawing by Kobita Dass Kolli
The
sad saga of NH163
Is
that development often misses the forests for the trees
For that
widening road is meant to replace and ride over
Telangana’s
perfectly good StateHighway4
Along
which live more than a 1000 stately banyans, marked for the axe
Since
holocausts rely on cold numbers, not faces or names
This
is an ode to putting hearts back.
Names
matter, say the ancient banyans gracing that road
If
we could speak from our shaggy-haired crowns
Our
voices would rumble from our roots through our habits
For
we are far from voiceless, we speak many tongues.
And
we have more names than we can count on our thumbs
What’s
in a name? Everything, it sets things apart
We
name what we love, what endures, what should stay
Its
where we believe the environmental movement must start.
We
love what we name, we protect what we love
It’s
the high-minded road we believe green policy must take
Our story
begins in primordial mists
Around
80 million years ago some of our fig ancestors
Cut
a deal with a wasp: Eupristina masoni
Both
species (tree and wasp) got their Latin tags later
When
Linnaeus coined his binomial nomenclature.
But
eons before we were named Ficus
benghalensis
On jambudvipa, our peninsular home in the tropics
On jambudvipa, our peninsular home in the tropics
The earliest
tree names (in Sanskrit, in Tamil) described our strange forms:
Bahupada, many-footed
Nyagrodha, downward facing
Inward
blooming
Outward
branching
False-fruiting
Secret
flowering
Prop-armed
Multi-trunked
Fig-bearing
Heaven-facing
Upward-rooting
The
oldest, largest, noisiest canopies in the world
Every
tree a circus! A mela! Teeming with
animals and birds
The
most cosmically upside-down trees on the planet
Sanctuaries,
shrines, pathshalas and groves
To
put it quite simply – each one a whole forest!
Colloquial
names soon followed; nouns, less adjectival
Reflecting
the many tongues of people who loved us
Marri. Badh. Bar. Bor. Bargad. Bargot.
Although
our genealogies trace back to jungle figs
We slowly
began to travel where moved
Via wasps
and animals, birds and bats
Where
seeds found their way and decided to stay
We
found singular spots to hang our marri chettu
hats
Our
names became place-names, linked to journeys and roads
We
spread north, we went west, we flew east, we grew south
From
Calcutta’s swamps to the Adyar mount
Each
tree carried tales of its own spirits and ghosts
The
largest, from Thimamma’s funeral pyre where she followed her husband
The
oldest, from Kabir’s toothbrush when he threw it in a dustbin!
And
then came the Europeans (no strangers to naming), to maraud and to plunder
But lo!
when they saw us were struck in nameless wonder
Alexander
was gobsmacked; his general Syko too
He waxed about 10,000 soldiers standing under one tree roof
He waxed about 10,000 soldiers standing under one tree roof
But
the Greeks couldn’t name us; even that botanical guru Theophrastus
Saw in
us only scientific proof
Of
giant fig cousins to those on their islands
It wasn’t
until medieval times when function followed form
And we
got our current name based on those we sheltered
Our
birthplace may well have been Bandar Abbas in Iran
Where
one Thomas Herbert saw a tree festooned with garlands
Bannyan,
he and other Englishmen called it, the tree under which the baniyas (traders)
gathered
Baniyans,
said the Portugese, who recognized the same in Gujarat
And
our name banyan was born; For an entire tree species, the largest figs of them
all.
Much
like our girths, the meaning of ‘banyans’ kept expanding
To
any tree that was strangler or epiphytic
And
thence to an entire figure of speech
So
that now banyans refer to (and it could’ve been worse)
A sheltering,
sweltering, skyholding universe
A collective
noun, an umbrella, a canopy of things.
Which
is entirely appropriate for us banyans of Chevella
For
nowhere else in the country – we think – would you find such a large road-lining
cluster
To get
rid of us, to cut us till we bleed
Would
be to decimate a clan, an entire demi-fleet
Put
a ban on cutting banyans before its too late
They
are Blake-an worlds sprung from little seeds of sand
To
name is to care; naming is an act of love
And
so, since our name comes from traders whose language was commerce
Let’s
do the math …
We
are NOT mere numbers, we have many names
Mark us with love, with drishti and haldi and charms against harm
Mark us with love, with drishti and haldi and charms against harm
With
spell songs and poems and art galore
But
do not mark us for death, that’s way premature.
If
names don’t convince you, here are some numbers that might
Sway
your bureaucratic minds with our plight:
1165
trees lining both sides of road
(and
that’s just one fig species from at least 850 more)
At
least 200 bird and animal species count us as home
And
I’m not even including the ghosts and spirits who live in our branches
Or
the countless villagers who sit in our considerable shade
To
commune and gossip and sing songs and dances
We
cannot be translocated; our canopies will die
And
our interlocking branches would surely collapse
We
are keystone species; we support entire eco-systems
If
you cut us to stumps (and we are stumped why you would!)
It
will take us decades to grow back and develop those broods
But if
saving trees as ecology will not convince you, here are some figures:
We will
cost to be moved; at least 4 lakhs
per tree
And
that’s not even counting the risks of sure death
As
you cut off our arms and hack down our roots.
Some
80% die each day in this foolhardy migration
We
ask and beseech you: Please let us stay!
We
hold in our arms your heritage, your pasts
Tagore
wrote about us, as did Sarojini Naidu
Your
nationalist heroes even made us your state tree
But
what state do we stand for – if its not reciprocal?
Stand
for us!
Now that would be a grand gesture!
More
so because we think we are utterly unique as a group
So be
good fellas
Think
plural, think larger; no other road in the nation has this many banyan clusters
As
our beautiful old tree-lined SH4 to Chevella
Don’t
make us history; that would be foolish
Think
forward, not backward. Let US be your future.
Do
it for your children and your children’s children; think big
Let
them know you cared a whole fig!
For
once make the right call
Don’t
be cruel; don’t cut us to heartwood
Will
we not bleed just as you would?
Name us Heritage Banyans and let our Xylems stand tall!
Name us Heritage Banyans and let our Xylems stand tall!
Comments
Post a Comment