The Vanished View: Preserving Urban Greens

“If there are no mangroves, then the sea will have no meaning. It’s like a tree with no roots, for the mangroves are the roots of the sea!” – Mad-Ha Ranwasii, Thai fisherman and village headman

On a recent trip to Chennai, Kovalam’s mangroves utterly captivated me. The well-maintained public mangrove site — free of garbage — restored my faith in the ability of humans to co-exist with nature without causing harm.

My first morning back in Bengaluru, still lost in memories of Kovalam’s vibrant mangroves, I stepped onto my balcony to realize that the lush green that it once overlooked was gone, shaved bare. The barren patch, a stark symbol of urban expansion, felt like a personal defeat. I saw my usual companions, the Crested Serpent Eagles and Brahminy Kites, soar higher than usual, in anguish of their own. There are over fifty bird species in the area. I felt their loss, far deeper than my own.

The Brahmaputra River, a nourisher of mangroves, embodies a force that constantly reshapes the land through erosion and accretion, blurring the very concept of ownership. If only, like this mighty river, all of nature itself had the power to remain untouchable, immune to exploitation. Despite Article 51A(g) of the Indian Constitution,  which mandates our duty to protect nature, we fail to realize the shared responsibility of citizens and the state to safeguard forests, lakes, rivers and wildlife, and to show compassion for all living beings. The words of a poet who was also deeply impacted by the mangroves of Sundarbans come to mind: “Man’s greed grew as he received Mother Earth’s bounty. Men cut down trees to meet their endless needs and stripped the earth of shade. As a result, the air became increasingly hotter, while the fertility of the soil increasingly diminished.”  – Rabindranath Tagore 

Searching for Solutions

My feelings could be considered partly selfish. The urban forest, albeit on private land, that I had cherished for over five years was gone. I mourn the loss of that view. But beyond my grief, the real question remains: how do we build and plan our cities in a way that incorporates, rather than erases, the green spaces we so desperately need?

Is evidence driven community-led greening supported by city leadership the way forward? The Kawaki (to make a grove in Malayalam) initiative in Kochi is one such example. Led by Kudumabashree self-help groups, these urban forests in public and private land are helping build communities’ resilience to the impacts of climate change, creating employment opportunities and improving quality of life.

I also felt responsible for not being there when the trees were cut and frantically scrolled through Google Earth’s timeline to conduct a digital autopsy of the lost green. While technology’s effect on the environment can be complicated, some digital mapping tools, including the Mapathon citizen science tool, offer a clear benefit. This platform uses digital technology to help the green spaces in cities grow by making it easier to find empty or underused land that would be suitable for planting trees, directly supporting urban afforestation efforts. Such digital tools can be instrumental in streamlining the entire greening life cycle, from initial planting and ongoing monitoring to the overall expansion of urban green cover.

The loss of the urban forest outside my balcony underscores another harsh reality: land ownership grants humans near-absolute control, while the surrounding biodiversity—birds, animals, and entire ecosystems—remain utterly vulnerable.

In the aftermath, I started researching why governments struggle to regulate tree removal on private land. We do have tree preservation policies in multiple states in India that mandate private landowners to abide by the rules before tree removal or pruning, but the effectiveness of these policies in protecting trees on private plots needs attention and assessment. To really keep our city trees safe, we need stronger ways to make sure they are protected and to check on them regularly. But it’s not just up to the government. Businesses, local city offices, individuals and neighborhood groups can all do their part to help protect the trees and green spaces in our cities.

Later in the day, on my way home, I stopped and touched the bark of a familiar large Honge Tree (millettia pinnata). Its vast canopy still offered cool shade, but its trunk told a story of neglect. The huge tree stood encased in cement. Peter Wohlleben, in his book “The Hidden Life of Trees,” speaks of a hidden network below the trees. The roots of this tree could not breathe due to the thoughtless concretization. Without collaborative initiatives at the city level, it may not survive.

Hope for a Greener Tomorrow

The theme for International Day for Biological Diversity 2025 is “Harmony with Nature and Sustainable Development.” There is no preserving biodiversity without protecting habitats. One only needs to take a walk down the street to witness the numerous threats facing flora in our cities. In an increasingly urbanized world, reestablishing this harmony with our environment and its inhabitants necessitates reimagining our cities.

As for me, the loss isn’t merely about the view overlooking my apartment, the ecologist in me remains disturbed. My familiar companion, the Crested Serpent-Eagle continues to call — a distress call, neither its regular nor predatory call — yes, there is a difference. Its landing space is gone. The lost green is etched in my mind. My only hope? The raptors are still flying. Their presence is a quiet reassurance that the ecosystem below still lives on.

(Published under Creative Commons from World Resources India. Read the original article here)