It’s approaching July and the usual set of thugs is busy planning that hoopla about planting trees and saving the environment. I wish these jokers would save themselves the trouble. I have yet to see a Drive that produced even a single tree that lasted the year. A copse is as likely to live as… a corpse, hahaha.
When I started construction of my house, 28 years ago, I planted 4 trees, 2 on each side of the plot, and 2 across. Today, only one survives. The rest were killed by the neighbours, all keen on cementing, cementing and more cementing. What is even more pathetic, is the appropriation of the area outside the plot, to create a scraggly Garden of Eden with a broken bucket masquerading as a flower pot, left-over bricks and sand , a wild hedge leaning this way and that, and some die-hard catharanthus flowers spurting in all directions. Somewhat understandable for small plots; but what should one say of owners of 400/450 m plots who cement their Garden Space and adorn the sides of their buildings with bulbous cement planters issuing forth a miserable struggling bourganvilla, shriveled champa, and the pervasive Son of India. It’s a truism that the richer you are, the more greedy you get. After all, if that poor sod has everything: all he can ask for, is…. MOOOOORE. “ Better” being beyond the purview of Mr. Money-bags.
In 2019, quite wet behind the ears, and all dewy eyed innocence, yours truly; newly elected recruit to the RWA, decided to do her own Plantation Drive. We had been promised saplings from Noida Authority,( or, to be correct, I should call it Noid Authority). Saplings are a dime a dozen. They are like the zillions of sperm that zipzapzoom, and never hit the target. We were instructed to dig pits in preparation for the planting. A ridiculously futile task entirely. The hot, summer sun bakes the earth till it is as hard as rock, and an entire day can be wasted in digging a couple of miserable holes.
The anointed day for the Drive approached, and I made frantic calls to the sapling provider. Sure, he said. Come and pick them up any time. From where??? He named a nursery in some remote village 30Kms. away… all free, Madam. All I had to pay was cartage… about a thou,,, more than thrice the cost of the saplings…. Renewed frantic calls, and visits to the nearby nurseries, burned a hole in my pocket, but mercifully, less than the freebies. Gobar khad was ordered and dumped somewhere in the vicinity of the pits. Another couple of thou…
A day before the Plantation Drive, the Heavens burst open and deluged the entire maidan. The approach road became a swamp, the Khad turned to arid slush and the pits disappeared under the collapsing soil. I still have some of the neem saplings in pots. I planted one tree near my house, outside an empty plot. It grew for 2 years, rising almost 12 feet tall. Then, bafflingly, it became the victim of some treecidal monster, who hacked at the base of the tree, and nearly killed it. It grew again, and, was again butchered. I wonder what moves this strange person. Does he hate trees? Does he hate me? Is he just maniacal? It’s one of the mysteries of my little life.
As they say: ”The Path to Hell is paved with Food Intentions”. Growing a tree is like having a child. It comes with responsibility. Just as we take years to bring up a child, a tree needs to be nurtured, and protected until it can survive on its own. Don’t plant one if you aren’t going to see it through.
The latest project initiated by Ritu, our Inner Wheel Club President, is the growth of a Nutritious Forest. I promise to send you a report on its demise or survival thereof in July 26.
Pathetic Pots of Potty plot owners
Middle-class Garden of Eden
