This past week, the sky over Delhi had become overcast almost every mid-afternoon. An eerie stillness inevitably accompanied this darkening, alleviated eventually by the slightest zephyr. Once that warm stirring would have been the harbinger of an aandhi, Delhi's equivalent of a sirocco (sandstorm)-or harmattan as I learnt to call it in Nigeria-that would first stir up dry leaves into frenetic mini spirals and then obscure everything in a dense, dun-coloured haze.
Now, even in the midst of May's aandhi season, long before the monsoon reaches the northern plains, such louring skies have led instead to gale-force winds followed by thunder, lightning and spells of heavy rainfall. And that has meant power cables snapping, unsecured objects flying off roofs, flash flooding of roads, and hundreds of fallen trees and hoardings. Of all these consequences of high velocity winds, the only really new phenomenon is those uprooted trees.
Think about it. Time was when even the strongest winds and downpours would at best cause some heavy branches to shear off. Rarely did entire trees, big or small, actually keel over as they do now. Nowadays, gales invariably result in hundreds of trees simply toppling, hitting parked cars, smashing into buildings and compounds, and blocking roads. And if you look at those trees lying mangled and forlorn, one aspect really sticks out: their short, almost shorn, roots.
That points to the fact that their roots, instead of burrowing deep down and anchoring the tree strongly into the soil, are forced to stay near the surface because water is not available far below. Most of the water that falls in urban areas does not seep into the ground; most of it is channelled into drains and carried out. Cement, concrete, tiles, stone, plastic, tar and metal covering most surfaces in cities mean that roots cannot perform their task of stabilising trees.
Even the one metre open space around the trees currently mandated by law is clearly not enough to ensure rainwater percolates deep into the soil, encouraging roots to bore downwards even more. Yet city dwellers begrudge even that little breathing space, paving the ground right up to tree trunks unless forced not to do so by either city forest department officials or neighbourhood green activists. And then they complain when those water-starved trees topple in gales!
When we lived in a government bungalow in central Delhi, every downpour turned our large lawn into a lake. But within an hour or two, all the water percolated into the soil. None of the 50-odd tall, old trees within the compound ever fell in a squall in all the six years we lived there. The trees that topple in central Delhi are mostly those planted along roads, whose tarred surfaces and pavements also prevent water from going deep into the ground and keep roots shallow.
As gales and storms become more frequent and more powerful, more and more trees will fall. Some short-sighted contrarians may then actually demand that trees should not be allowed to be planted near buildings, especially in residential areas. That would be a travesty. In fact, just the opposite should now be mandated by revising existing laws. More trees with more open space around each to allow rainwater to seep in deeper, must be made mandatory in all urban areas.
We love our families, pets, properties, cars and other possessions; why do we leave trees out of this charmed circle? Why do we treat them as dispensable accessories or nuisances that come in the way of vistas, walkways and parking spaces? Mother Nature has indicated her unhappiness with the way we have been managing her planet for a while now. It is time for everyone, not only the "authorities", to heed her warning signals. Start by saving your trees.
Now, even in the midst of May's aandhi season, long before the monsoon reaches the northern plains, such louring skies have led instead to gale-force winds followed by thunder, lightning and spells of heavy rainfall. And that has meant power cables snapping, unsecured objects flying off roofs, flash flooding of roads, and hundreds of fallen trees and hoardings. Of all these consequences of high velocity winds, the only really new phenomenon is those uprooted trees.
Think about it. Time was when even the strongest winds and downpours would at best cause some heavy branches to shear off. Rarely did entire trees, big or small, actually keel over as they do now. Nowadays, gales invariably result in hundreds of trees simply toppling, hitting parked cars, smashing into buildings and compounds, and blocking roads. And if you look at those trees lying mangled and forlorn, one aspect really sticks out: their short, almost shorn, roots.
That points to the fact that their roots, instead of burrowing deep down and anchoring the tree strongly into the soil, are forced to stay near the surface because water is not available far below. Most of the water that falls in urban areas does not seep into the ground; most of it is channelled into drains and carried out. Cement, concrete, tiles, stone, plastic, tar and metal covering most surfaces in cities mean that roots cannot perform their task of stabilising trees.
Even the one metre open space around the trees currently mandated by law is clearly not enough to ensure rainwater percolates deep into the soil, encouraging roots to bore downwards even more. Yet city dwellers begrudge even that little breathing space, paving the ground right up to tree trunks unless forced not to do so by either city forest department officials or neighbourhood green activists. And then they complain when those water-starved trees topple in gales!
When we lived in a government bungalow in central Delhi, every downpour turned our large lawn into a lake. But within an hour or two, all the water percolated into the soil. None of the 50-odd tall, old trees within the compound ever fell in a squall in all the six years we lived there. The trees that topple in central Delhi are mostly those planted along roads, whose tarred surfaces and pavements also prevent water from going deep into the ground and keep roots shallow.
As gales and storms become more frequent and more powerful, more and more trees will fall. Some short-sighted contrarians may then actually demand that trees should not be allowed to be planted near buildings, especially in residential areas. That would be a travesty. In fact, just the opposite should now be mandated by revising existing laws. More trees with more open space around each to allow rainwater to seep in deeper, must be made mandatory in all urban areas.
We love our families, pets, properties, cars and other possessions; why do we leave trees out of this charmed circle? Why do we treat them as dispensable accessories or nuisances that come in the way of vistas, walkways and parking spaces? Mother Nature has indicated her unhappiness with the way we have been managing her planet for a while now. It is time for everyone, not only the "authorities", to heed her warning signals. Start by saving your trees.