Green aspirations

“He that plants trees loves others

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besides himself” — Thomas Fuller

I was born not as mere bricks and mortar but as a dream — the City Beautiful — a harmonious vision nestled in the lap of the Shivalik hills. My architect, Le Corbusier, sketched me as a melody of order and modernity, where every sector was a carefully composed note. Yet, my true song arises not from concrete but from the rustling chorus of my leaves, the tender whispers of my trees, and the emerald quilt of my parks and avenues.

I am a city of roots, not just roads. My heart beats through the green veins of the Leisure Valley, a flowing ribbon of life that nurtures me like a mother’s embrace. My roads, lovingly adorned by Dr MS Randhawa, became boulevards of purpose. He planted dreams in the form of trees — native stalwarts such as the Amaltas with its golden chandeliers, Kachnars setting the colourful background, and the regal mango and Jamun offering shade, steadfastness, and fruits. Native tree species such as Bahera (Terminalia bellirica) and Kusum (Schleichera oleosa), with beautiful foliage and flowers, adorn my avenues.

My Ficus species (largely Ficus virens) spread wide their arms, a canopy of protection, while the Siris and Sisham stood resilient, their branches a sanctuary against the sun’s tyranny and urban noise. These trees became my sentinels — steadfast protectors of life and vitality, their roots entwined with my very soul.

My dear homo sapiens, my advocacy for native tree species stems from your research and my essence. Natives align with my soil, seasons and spirit, thriving naturally while sustaining birds, bees and squirrels. They anchor soil, replenish groundwater, cleanse air and store carbon, offering shade, fruit and seasonal beauty. Unlike exotics, which often disrupt, natives demand little care, weaving my past into my future. They embody resilience, sustainability, and identity — my true custodians of strength and legacy.

Yet, my story is not only about my native roots. The Jacarandas brought their lavender poetry, the bottlebrushes painted the air red, the fiery Gulmohar set my summers ablaze, and the Tabebuias unfurled a foreign elegance. Like spices enhancing a dish, these exotic visitors added charm to my landscape. But my heart remained faithful to my heritage, and my trees spoke a universal language understood by every soul who sought solace beneath their shade.

As I grew, so did my family. My siblings Panchkula and Mohali joined me to form the tricity — a mosaic of green aspirations. Together, we sang songs of seasons, our parks and avenues transforming into sanctuaries where both people and nature found refuge.

However, winds of change have brought challenges. Alien species like the date palm (Phoenix dactylifera) now dot my horizons, stiff and aloof among my welcoming mangoes and Siris. These exotic trees, though visually striking, are strangers to my ecology, their presence a discordant note in my harmonious green orchestra.

My neighbours, Panchkula and Mohali, have witnessed rapid urbanisation. Townships and high-rise apartments have paved over the earth, and builders often choose landscaping shortcuts — easy-to-grow species that lack ecological or cultural significance. These choices erode the identity of our arboreal heritage.

An appeal to the RERA authorities of Punjab and Haryana and environmental clearance agencies — mandate native and climate-resilient species for urban landscaping. Let us plant trees that not only survive but thrive — trees that tell stories, clean the air, and create homes for birds and bees.

My boulevards now feel the weight of endless vehicular traffic, their fumes clawing at my breath. I need robust green warriors — Arjun, Jamun, Neem — trees that stand tall against pollution and shade me from the relentless sun. Without them, I risk becoming a mirage: a green desert, lush in appearance but empty of ecological richness.

Global warming’s fiery breath has begun to press upon my avenues. My green belts are my shield, a cooling balm against the urban heat. But this shield weakens without care, without vigilance. My trees are not mere decoration; they are my lifeblood. They are storytellers, their blossoms the ink of seasons, their shade a relief, their roots a bond with the past.

Here’s a prayer for integrated urban forestry — a vision where parks, green belts and roadside plantations form a continuous green corridor, a living sanctuary for wildlife and cool breezes. Can’t the tricity administration work together as one — a joint committee to safeguard my green character? Why not have buffer zones of dense, pollution-tolerant trees like Arjun and Jamun along highways and industrial zones to combat emissions and protect the air we breathe.

And people — my lifeline — what about a sense of responsibility? Awareness programmes must educate my residents about the importance of native greenery. Let them plant, nurture and cherish the trees in their neighbourhoods, for they hold the keys to my future.

I am City Beautiful, but my beauty is not superficial — it is my essence, my resilience, my legacy. If global warming presses harder, my green belts will be your shield, my trees your sanctuary. Do not let me become a sweltering heat island, a hollow shell of what I was meant to be.

Protect my roots, cherish my shade, and let the green symphony of life play on. For, in every leaf, every tree, every whisper of the wind through my avenues lies the promise of a sustainable future. Let us uphold it, together.

— The writer is former Principal Chief Conservator of Forests (HOFF), Haryana