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development Chennai's
charms
By Salman Rashid It took untold
ages for life forms to evolve in resonance with local ecologies. If the
eucalyptus evolved in the swamplands of northern Australia, it For the past ten thousand years man has lived in cities (Mehrgarh near Sibi is known to be as old as that) and surely the town planners of that incredibly well-designed city would have laid out gardens and wooded areas for the pleasure of its inhabitants. It is not difficult to imagine that the vegetation would all have been native to the land. That been said, the people of Mehrgarh would also have acquired, through their travels to distant lands, seeds of some alien species as well. Surely there was a date tree brought in from the orchards of Mesopotamia and a flowering shrub from the banks of the Ganges. What they grew
most of all were indigenous species, however. Some of To celebrate, and to appreciate and perhaps even worship, that which was native was in intrinsic resonance with man's nature. That was a time when man was, as we would like to say, primitive. Modernity took away that ancient wisdom and turned man into a ruthless, unthinking savage. Bring to mind the eradication by European sailors of the dodo on the islands of Mauritius, Reunion and Rodriguez. With no natural predator this large bird had no fear of the first men, and the sailors easily harvested it for fresh meat. But by and by it became sport with the men clubbing vast numbers of these flightless birds for fun. Sooner than they knew it, the dodo was finished. Extinct! And this happened less than three hundred years ago. To me the extinction of the dodo shows that as man 'progressed', he became divorced from the natural world. This estrangement grew with the same progression as the so-called development. As a child growing up in the 1950s, I remember village folks planting the pipal, the blessed neem, mulberry and other fruit trees. These were all favoured by the insatiable domesticated goat, yet they were cared for and seen to maturity. My childhood memories are of immense banyan and mulberry trees that were virtual symphonies of birdsong. But then came the 1960s and misguided foresters set out to blight this good land with the curse of the eucalyptus. Imported from Australia, there was no animal in Pakistan that fed on it. Where indigenous species had a survival rate of less than 20 per cent, this one succeeded one hundred per cent. All the worthless foresters of Pakistan had to do was stick a sapling in the ground and forget it. It would make a tree. But a pipal, a banyan, a ber or an acacia tree had to be cared for and that was hard work. Eucalyptus therefore provided the easy way to forestation. Years later when the utterly unsuitable hydrological prosperities of the tree have been discovered, it continues to be bandied by the forest departments of the country. And so today we have an estimated one hundred million eucalyptus trees growing across Pakistan from such unlikely places as Sost in the extreme north to Gwadar and Jivani on the seaboard. Little do the foresters care that these 'wonder trees' are siphoning off on average eight billion litres of ground water every day! As we stand estranged from our natural world, we no longer understand what is bad for us. Some years ago visiting the ancestral village of Mr Manmohan Singh (the Indian PM), I tried to convince the local schoolmaster to replace the eucalyptus in his schoolyard with the local phulai (Acacia modesta). I carried on about the harm the alien tree was doing when an elderly man made a sweeping gesture towards the M-2 Motorway bordered by a linear forest of eucalyptus and said, "If it was so bad, why would the government plant only this tree along the road?" I could only respond by asking him how many wise actions of the government could he think of since the advent of Pakistan. But what this octogenarian said convinced me that folk wisdom that had helped people make their lives better was a thing of the past. The 1980s brought yet another bane to this sorry land. Flight crews of the national airline carted in all sorts of exotic trees from southeast Asia that passed through lax laws into the country. And so with black money (long live USSR's invasion of Afghanistan), or Middle East petrodollars, to show in ugly houses, Pakistanis started to 'adorn' their matchbox-sized gardens with yet more alien species. That was the time when to have a kikar or ber tree in your garden was to be heckled as a paindu. Once again official sanction was guilty of popularising yet another tree we could have done without. When Main Boulevard in Gulberg was beautified my good friend Kamran Lashari had all the old mango trees chopped down. In the stretch between Jail Road and College of Home Economics the good man planted date palms. I argued in favour of pipal and shisham trees and he said those trees took years to grow. I retorted, "But years from now they will give us shade. Your scrawny date palms never will." Kami does not seem to understand that as a hot country we need as many shade trees as we possibly can plant; for now he is letting Islamabad be invaded by the date palm. The last two decades saw also the invasion of the Ashoka tree or whatever its name is. Owing to its ugly shape I call it kulfi tree. Heaven knows where it has been imported from, but I have yet to hear birdsong coming from its foliage. Today, the new airport has no tree in front. All it has are some shrubs and many Ashoka. Pea-brained officials of the Parks and Horticulture Authority will argue that trees will permit kites and vultures to nest and endanger airliners. I can tell them that all the huge trees planted along the roads of the cantonment and leading to the old airport were home to all sorts of birds, but we can scarcely remember a bird hit in Lahore. We stand divorced from our natural world however, and do not recognise what does not suit us. So we shall only plant alien, imported species. Consequently save the areas of Model Town, the cantonment, Lawrence Gardens and the oasis of the Mayo Gardens-Aitchison College-Governor's House complex, we have no other sizeable plantation of indigenous species in Lahore. These areas are the only sanctuary for such birds as, among others, the Grey Hornbill or the Munia (genus Lonchura). None of the new upstart housing societies have avenues planted with indigenous trees. The saddest thing being that all these areas were, as little as 20 years ago, farmland and forest of kikar, pipal and neem. All of that has been cleared and replaced with eucalyptus or some shrubbery. At best we have Alstonia which also is not native to the Punjab. A glaring and very sad example of our divorce from our land is the seventy-ish gentleman who is building in the plot next to our home. I suggested he plant trees like mine (a shisham, a neem, one pipal and two amaltas) to keep his home cool in the summers. He said trees were a nuisance because they created "too much rubbish". Then he proceeded to boast how when he was working for Anjuman Hamait-e-Islam, he cut down all those "hundred year-old" trees in their premises and replaced them with flowering shrubs. That was his boast! He did not understand that the huge bio-mass he had destroyed and replaced with puny little sticks had been a carbon sink. That those trees, many of which ended up being burned and their carbon released into the atmosphere, were heroically guarding us against galloping global warming. If you didn't know it, it is free carbon in the atmosphere that aids the greenhouse effect. Despite all my pleading, he is still adamant that trees create rubbish and should all be chopped down in favour of flowering shrubs. That's folk wisdom for you. And sure enough, he has planted six Ashoka trees in his little garden. By far the worst offenders are those who buy pre-partition properties in Model Town, tear them up and replace them with ugliness. I have seen so many who have chopped down the trees outside their boundary wall so that their exhibition of wealth symbolised by the bathroom tile facade can be seen. And Model Town has laws against cutting trees! Young people today have never seen a firefly. We have destroyed them with our wanton use of pesticides. Similarly these people will only know those ugly alien species that their parents plant in their homes. Not long after I am dead and gone, Lahore, indeed the whole of Pakistan, will be a ravaged desert. They who inherit the future will never hear the bulbul sing outside their bedroom window. They will never see a hobby falcon feeding on a sparrow in their garden. They will never thrill to the sight of a tailor bird sewing up its pouch of leaves to rear its brood. They will only have the ugliness of the Ashoka and the barrenness of the eucalyptus to bring no joy to their souls. They will have us to blame who cut the umbilical tying us to the land -- the dharti. Footnote. On the subject of our collective stupidity, I must remark on our foolish building practices. Gone are the days of those eight-kanal tree-shaded bungalows, but we could still be judicious in our use of available space -- which is generally just one kanal now. Young or old, the home-maker seems to be utterly devoid of good sense. These mindless people want to build their plots completely over. Open to the summer sun, these homes are virtual hell holes. Then they pave the outside areas either with marble or synthetic tiles -- terrazzo outside now being low life. We were baking bricks back in the year 7500 BCE when we first built Mehrgarh. Through the ages the brick was our basic paving material which had a good deal of wisdom behind it. Being porous, it cooled after a sprinkling of water in this tropical heat. And we who grew up in those heady days of the 1950s and 1960s will remember the hosed down drive which steamed for a while and then was pleasantly cool to sit on. But now we have synthetic tiles, marble paving and sometimes cement plastering that will never ever be cooled by a shower of rain raising the ambient temperature of our cities. Yet I have not seen a house built in the past thirty years where good sense is exhibited. People live in their steamy hot homes and run up high electricity bills but will not use brick for paving because that would make them look poor. That is what my architect told me several years ago when we were building. Exhibitionism drives us to foolishness.
By Adeel Pathan Chennai -- formerly Madras -- is the capital of Indian state of Tamil Nadu. It is famous for many things especially the centuries' old temples, second largest beach of the world and its literacy rate. It is known for being the centre of automobile industry and above all its idli and dosa. Chennai is home
to many reputable educational and professional training As soon as drove out of the airport, it was observed that here too, like elsewhere in India, a large number of women rode motorbikes. Another far more interesting thing common to all women of Madras was that they all wear jasmine flowers in their hair, which is an old tradition. Chennai boasts of rich historical legacy that lends an inexplicable charm to the city. The Portuguese arrived here in the 16th century, followed by the Dutch and East India Company. The British were able to establish their undisputed supremacy in the city and the Fort St George became the nucleus around which the British authority grew and expanded. In the 19th century, the city emerged as the seat of Madras presidency and today stands as a significant city of India. Chennai has an
obvious colonial feel, evident in various cathedrals and The flourishing economy of the city is credited to its key industries -- automobile, software services, hardware manufacturing, petrochemicals, textiles and financial services. The city is also home to the Tamil entertainment (motion pictures, television, and recorded music) industry that is the second largest in India after Bollywood. Because the film industry is largely centered around a local area called Kodambakkam, the Tamil film industry is popularly referred to as Kollywood. The Madrasis show affection to their movie stars in a different way: they decorate boards carrying images of movie stars with flowers. We also visited Dakshina Chitra, a non-profit service project of Madras Craft Foundation for the promotion and preservation of the cultures of the diverse people of India with emphasis on Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka. In this centre, the organisers display cultures of different regions and it's like an open exhibition that gives credit to traditional craftsmen. Marina Beach, the pride of Chennai, is supposed to be the second largest in the world. On the sea-front lie memorials dedicated to political leaders and freedom fighters. The Aquarium, Light House and Boulevard of Walks, gardens and drives make the beach one of the best attractions of the city. Eliot Beach and Basant Nagar Beach are also a popular getaway. Chennai is famous for its numerous restaurants that offer light meals or tiffin which usually include rice-based dishes like pongal, dosai, idli and vadai, served with steaming hot coffee, a very popular beverage consumed in Chennai. Pineapple stalls can be seen at every nook and corner of the city. Like cities in Pakistan, Chennai also faces problems with traffic congestion and the resulting pollution. Chennai has a fairly well developed transportation infrastructure in terms of coverage and connectivity. Chennai still faces water supply shortages as no big river flows through it with a resulting over-reliance on annual monsoon rains to replenish water reservoirs. The city's ground water levels have been depleted to very low levels in many areas and most residents buy drinking water. Being a Pakistani, I could not forget to visit the M. A. Chidambaram Stadium -- Chennai's international venue for cricket matches where our former cricket star Saeed Anwar made his record-breaking 194 against India in the Independence Cup match in 1997 and again when Pakistan won the Test match in 1999. Chennai's culture reflects its diverse population. The city is known for its classical dance shows and Hindu temples. Every December, Chennai holds a five week long Music Season, which has been described as one of the world's largest cultural events. This year Abida Parveen is most likely to be part of the festival. Chennai celebrates a number of festivals including Pongal, celebrated in the month of January, the most important festival celebrated over five days. Tamil New Year's day signifying the beginning of the Tamil Calendar usually falls on April 14 and is celebrated widely. Being a cosmopolitan city, almost all major religious festivals like Thai Poosam, Deepavali, Eid and Christmas are celebrated here. |
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developed into a water-guzzling monster of a tree because of the high
availability of water. The date palm of the arid regions of Asia, on the
other hand, developed to thrive on just a sip or two once in a while. And
these are just two examples. But whatever vegetation took root there evolved
other life forms to avail of it: insects, birds and animals that fed on the
fruit and leaves and nested in the branches. That was the order that Nature
designed.
these, the people of the Sindhu Valley also worshipped. The pipal and its
cousin the banyan (genus Ficus) being two. A Moen jo Daro seal depicts a god
under a pipal tree. We may never learn this god's name, but he was chosen by
the Aryans in the early part of the second millennium BC to become their
Shiva. It may well be that at this same time the pipal also became sacred to
the singers of the Vedic hymns who were now pouring into this great and
wonderful land.
institutes across South Asia and the literacy rate in the state is above 80
per cent -- even rickshaw drivers easily understand English. Very few
Pakistanis visit the South Indian city and perhaps that's why I along with my
friends was received warmly by the airport staff. After going through
immigration, we moved out to our first destination in the town: a hotel
located in Pallava.
buildings for instance Fort St. George. Chennai, according to our guide, is
also known for its religious tolerance -- no conflict or violence has been
witnessed in the past several decades. What also makes Chennai similar to us
is its political culture: a lot of portraits of ruling party leaders were
seen 'displayed' all over the city.