Ahmedabad Days by Esther David I lament for trees I have lost during my many migrations in the city and today, I am very possessive about my handkerchief-size garden. Having lived in different parts of Ahmedabad, I have seen different attitudes towards trees. Like, a vegetable vendor has grown tulsi and lili chai next to his shop for business and beauty, and holy trees like banyan and peepal are always looked after well for religious reasons. Then, there was this autorickshawallah who insisted on receiving a free sapling from the officer in charge at Parimal garden nursery as he wanted to plant it in the courtyard of his house. I have seen some architects design houses around trees, while some high rise apartments have special parks of their own, while others cut down trees and flatten out areas to construct high rise buildings. Then there are those huge estates on the highway where they grow everything exotic from kadamb, geraniums to basil. Actually, I envy all those who live on the lush green landscape of the Indian Institute of Management, the place is a green island in the city, what with its lawns, gardens and trees, a virtual bird watcher’s paradise. Similar luxuriant green zones exist at the Centre of Environment Planning and Technology, better known as CEPT University, and the National Institute of Design. At the moment, I live on the ground floor of a low rise housing society in the centre of the city, amidst bungalows and private properties with gardens. When I came to live here, I felt comforted to see a public garden nearby and a triangular island jam-packed with magenta bougainvillea, a chikoo tree on my left, a jamun tree on my right, a neem tree next to the wall, gulmohar around the corner and parijat in between, while overgrown creepers fell gracefully on the boundary walls. It was a pleasure to walk in these lanes and watch parakeets, bulbuls, tailor birds, common green bee-eaters and other birds in the lush green foliage. The chikoo tree belonged to the neighbouring bungalow and was framed in my bedroom window. One morning, I heard great commotion next door and saw that the chikoo tree was being axed down. I was helpless as I did not know the owners nor could I stop them. When somebody asked them the reason, they said something about the invasion of langoors and insects. I felt it was not enough reason to cut down trees, as it takes years for a tree to grow and just about a couple of hours to cut it down. At the end of the day, the tree was no longer framed in my window; instead it had been lugged off as firewood by the sweeper woman’s family. Few days later, in a similar fashion, when the next door neighbour started cutting down his young neem tree, hesitantly, I requested him to reconsider his decision, as trees take years to grow for that much needed green cover, which is also a haven for birds. I thought, he would resent my interference, but much to my surprise, he stopped operation demolition. I heaved a sigh of relief that I could save a tree and start dreaming about a green future for Ahmedabad. Esther David is an author from Ahmedabad. Her novels revolve around the Jewish experience in India. |
©Vladimir Kotlyakov
Figure 1. Large chukns of ice and stone blocks, caused by a surging Medvezhiy glacier, rush down in the Academia Nauk range in the Caucasus.
©Vladimir Kotlyakov
Figure 2. The massof ice and stone from the Kolka glacier's surge
©Robert Bauer
The Rhône glacier at 3,600 metres is the largest glacier in the Urner Alps. Easily accessible, the Rhône's evolution has been obeserved since the 19th century. The glacier lost 1.3 Km in the last 120 years, leaving a trail of naked stone.
©Robert Bauer
A lake forms at the tip of the Rimpfischhorn glacier, at 4,199 metres, in the Swiss Alps.
©Vladimir Kotlyakov
Traces of a surge: On 20 September 2002, huge masses of ice, water and stone rushed down a valley in the Kazbek mountain in the Caucasus. Around 110 million cubic metres of ice got stuck in the valley's narrow gorge, causing a natural dam, but soon the dam broke and ice rushed down the valley, in "waves" leaving traces on slopes. Following the surge, blocks of ice and stone were seen deposited at a height of 100-140 metres from the river bed. Kolka's surge caused further destruction down the gorge as the heavy mudflow and ice blocks surged for another 12 kilometres killing 130 people.
Vladimir Kotlyakov is Professor and Academician, Institute of Geography, Russian Academy of Sciences.