A Few Words from the Vocabulary of Silence: Ramesh Pandey on Trees, Migration and Belonging

For those who feel assimilated to nature, amidst woods, grasses, plants, leaves and petals, How I Became A Tree penned by Sumana Roy would be an engrossing read. I came across a dwelling of the author's thought, which she called 'Silence of Tree', whose few lines resonate with me — "I need to say it again, among all other desires to become a tree, the most urgent was the need to escape noise. There were two things about this, one was the noise of humans, the other was the vocabulary of silence of the active life of trees."

I sense that this vocabulary of silence of trees may change with time, conditions, and events around. It would be different sets of words used by native and 'exotic' trees. Sometimes I also sense that trees which have willingly or unwillingly migrated to a foreign land — across the seas, several thousands of miles away from their home — have a different vocabulary from the one back home, likely stemming from their isolation, grief, happiness, destitution, loneliness, friendships or adoptions. Speaking to a tree which is native and one which is a migrant yields distinct understandings. I hear from them the tales of their inhibitions, their laments, their needs. The ones labelled 'exotics' more so — the word itself stamping them as second-grade, refugees or migrants. They bear these labels for years, even centuries, alienated, separated, discriminated — until the point that they either adopt themselves to their new home, or get camouflaged in its stories, mythology, religions, conversations, or living.

The best example of such a tree is Gulmohar (Delonix regia), a Madagascar-native that came to India years ago. Found in many places around the globe, the tree has adapted splendidly. It has inhabited so well that Indians consider it a native tree — its intrinsic assimilation into our society is seen in Dushyant Kumar's sher: jeeye toh apne bageeche mein gulmohar ke tale, marein toh gaer ki galiyon mein gulmohar ke liye. With the onset of time, Gulmohar has garnered acceptance and made itself one with its new home.

Trees are seen through different lenses by different people. In most cases, the acceptance of non-native trees in society is catalysed by the new local names given to them. One such tree is Balam Kheera, whose name insinuates a native bearing, whereas Kigelia africana actually belongs to Africa. Its local name is derived from the shape of its fruit, which strongly resembles a kheera — or cucumber. It is a beautiful tree with thick foliage, a prominent crown, and thick, leathery, broad leaves in a dark green colour. Balam Kheera has high adaptability and has even found medicinal use locally. Besides the fruit, another of its special characteristics is its hanging efflorescence — red, thick, big tubular flowers. It has been planted in avenues and is found very commonly in cities such as Delhi.

Gulmohar and Balam Kheera have been absorbed with the native flora because propagation has not been challenging for them. They have multiplied and claimed spaces, so there isn't much of a feeling of seclusion, isolation, destitution, or stress. But there are some which do seem affected by these emotions — such as the Kamandal (Crescentia cujete) tree. A Latin-American tree whose fruits are used for making pots and bowls, it derived its name from its use for making kamandals or 'begging bowls'. Only a few Kamandal trees are found in Delhi — two or three — and they remain unrecognised unless their brownish flowers start protruding on their trunks and convert into ball-like green fruits. Since they are bat-pollinated, it is interesting that they converse with indigenous bats to help with pollination.

Then there are a few trees so quiet and so hidden that they barely seem to be around. Their vocabulary gives off the feeling of hesitation. Such is the Nettle tree (Celtis australis, or Khadak in Hindi). An original of the Mediterranean and Southern Europe, it seems to have travelled with Alexander the Great on his journey to India, or wound up on the Silk Route along the way. An interesting feature is the fall of its bipinnate branches, which seem almost climber-like, with a clean, slaty, smooth bark. It mingles with subtropical trees as if with the intention of not revealing its identity amongst them — though it seems to enjoy its own solitude, swinging leaves in a canopy with hues of green.

A tree that warrants attention is Agathis (Agathis australis), an evergreen with an interesting spotted, slaty-brown bark that stands out from its habitat. Its thick leaves turn scaly upon drying and it has sustained with elegance on Indian soil. Native to Australia and New Zealand, where it is known as the Kauri tree, Kauri forests are among the oldest in the world — the antecedents of the Kauri are estimated to have appeared during the Jurassic period, between 190 and 135 million years ago. Extroverted, this tree seems not only ready to adapt itself to different conditions, but to thrive in them.

We also find Baobab (Adansonia digitata), an African tree of many names — the inverted tree, the bottle tree — quite popular and recognised worldwide. Genetic variance studies of the Indian species indicate it is not native and has come from Africa, yet very interestingly it is called the Kalpavriksha — the tree of life — in India. The twist in its tale comes when, in certain places such as parts of Uttar Pradesh, it is also called and revered as Parijat, which is actually a misnomer. Parijat — commonly known as Harshringar, Shiuli or Shefali — is an indigenous tree that features in the Puranas, Sanskrit literature and Krishna's tales, and is entirely different from the Baobab. Speculation has been made regarding Baobab coming to India either with the Arabs or the Portuguese, who planted them near churches in many parts of Western India. It has adapted well to native soil, and its mushroom-like white flowers look beautiful when they fall and cover the ground beneath the tree.

In today's world, the cross-generational knowledge of trees is not being passed down. There is a greater need to observe, identify, recognise, and appreciate them. We are all familiar with the Company Baghs established in many cities by the East India Company, frequented by joggers and morning walkers today. Some subsequently became regional offices of the Botanical Survey of India, with the objective of putting exotic and native trees in one place — knowing about them, their phenology, behaviour, and propagation. This spirit of connecting with trees and delving into their vocabulary of silence needs to go on. We need to encourage inquisitiveness about trees and their origins, their better use, and inculcate communication with them — their journeys, and their stories, in their own words.

Ramesh Pandey is an Indian Forest Service Officer and currently Director, National Zoological Park, New Delhi. He was awarded the UNEP Asia Environmental Enforcement Award.