Paper presented at the SAARC Literature Festival in Lucknow on 16th March 2012.
Introduction
Shor se chidiyon ke tang aa kar, pairh tou mein ne kaat diya tha
Ab jab kirnain koond rehi hain, sehn mein saaya dhund reha hun.
When noisy birds brought out my ire, I raised my arm and felled the tree,
And now when sunlight rains down on me, in the courtyard I search for shade.
(Adapted translation)
The tropical region brings with it images of warm climate, humid weather and rainforests. South Asia, lying in the close proximity of the subtropical region, conjures up similar associations. Much of these have come down to us over the centuries and Man has appeared to have a very close connection with trees. The image may be one of a disciple sitting underneath a tree to receive instruction, a holy man meditating, a weary conqueror resting, mischievous youngsters playing hide and seek in the gardeners’ prized fruit trees, a mynah or a koel (cuckoo) cooing in the shade, or even the gruesome image of a body hanging from the branches for all wayfarers to see and beware of the hand of justice. Symbolically then, in literary thought it is the tree that is timeless and a silent witness to all that goes on in the travails of Time and what it gives and takes.
In earlier days, the tree was the symbol of patience and tolerance. As man and nature learned to coexist side by side, man learned that he could not live without the trees that clumped together in the form of forests or groves and provided him with sustenance and a natural cover for animal life within it as well as firewood. Through the very delicate thread that binds the community of man with the community of plant and animal life, we can explore the impact this has on the natural environment as a whole and in turn on the writing that stems from its subtle influence. The objective of this paper is to understand this link and to delve into the way this may have evolved over time, laying out the ground for future symbolic contexts.
The tree as a symbol in the rural versus urban paradigm shift
Some of the earliest tree symbols come from religious texts and the image of the disciple learning from the master and meditating under a tree or even the evil serpent lurking within the boughs of the tree. Evil and good both seem to go hand in hand. The fruit of the tree may be life giving to a wayfarer or may be the taker of life. This battle between good and evil seems to be at its most evident when seen in the context of literature depicting rural traditions rather than urban ones. Early literature of the subcontinent depicts this link as spiritual and a connection between man and God. Tree worship dates back to early days in the Indian peninsula (Agrawala, 1970) and these temples of nature are said to be adorned by the presence of gods and goddesses. While the neem, peepul, banyan and wood apple retain their holiness in the political boundaries of what is now known as India (Amrita, 1999), the plantain groves as a cult have their ethnographical significance in Bengal (Bhattacharya, 1950) and numerous giant cypress trees around Bhutan have their own tales to tell (Tshering, 2011). The man is shown as a tree growing in Brahma or the universe being like an inverted tree with its roots in the sky and the branches below – the eternal fig tree as defined formally in the Upanishads (Eliade, 1996).
Zimmer (1972) in his analysis of Indian mythological symbols talks about three trees of symbolic significance born soon after the creation of the world underneath which the ‘Blessed one’ carried out meditation for seven days each – firstly under the Bo tree or the Bodhi ‘Tree of Enlightenment’ on the banks of the river Nairanjana, secondly the great banyan tree called ‘The Tree of the Goatherd’ and lastly the third great tree called ‘The tree of the serpent King, Muchalinda’. Still other sources name five sacred trees or the Panchavati of India as Peepul, Banyan, Indian gooseberry, Bengal Quince and Asoka (Hegde and Patil, 1999). No matter what the type, the fact that trees have been held in reverence for centuries past in the Indian subcontinent is important, as regards current literary thought. It is this fact that makes the current trend of cropping of trees and butchering mature trees all the more tragic.
History also ascribes trees of oracular properties to the subcontinent. Tales from the days of Alexander the Great have been found to coincide with the trees on Harappan civilization seals and show strange fruit bearing trees usually surrounding the figure of a female deity or serpents coiled within the trunk form (Lannoy, 1974).
The tree as a singular entity is the subject of many short stories. It is depicted as a symbol of life in stories such as ‘The Peepul tree’ (1958) by Zebunnissa Hamidullah where the image of a woman dubbed as barren in a village in Bengal is contrasted starkly to the mango groves ripe with fruit through which she weaves her way, unknown to the villagers, to approach a distant ‘mighty’, ‘old’, ‘twisted’ and ‘majestic’ Peepul tree so she may have her hearts’ desire – a son for whom she ties a red cloth to its branches. This linking of the tree with the spiritual realm is by no means a new idea. Rabindranath Tagore in ‘Stray Birds’, found in the tree form a similar prayer like stance:
The trees come up to my window like the yearning voice of the dumb earth
Be still, my heart, these great trees are prayers.
In Bhutanese literature, the story of the four harmonious friends in the Jataka tales is said to have been recounted by Buddha as a fable to help decide the question of the rights given to seniors. Here we find a Banyan tree at the centre of the story that eventually helps the friends decide the eldest. The tree once again proves its timelessness (Bhutan Journals).
Strength, one of the known and well worked out themes of the lone tree in literature also finds its expression in the literature of the subcontinent. ‘The Neem Tree’ is a poem by the German – Pakistani writer Elsa Kazi written before her death in 1967 that shows this quality of the tree and stands an ardent prayer for Man to emulate many of the characteristics shown by the Neem tree.
‘How strong you are, how unafraid,
How green the leaves inspite of all
The mid-day flames that burning fall
Upon thy unprotected head…
Could man be as bold as thou and rise
Above the earth, with the sheltering arm
To save the suffering ones from harm,
From sorrows, poverty and vice
Through sacrifice.’
Strength, being thus adorned by the upright neem tree, there is little else more tragic than the image of ‘A Fallen Tree’. The poetry of Patrick Fernando of Sri Lanka, himself a keen gardener, bears witness to the giant tree that ‘over-lorded all’, while nature watches helplessly and ‘all the rest stand muted at the giant’s fall’ (Bhushan, 2011). In his work, especially his tragic verse, we see the effects of the perceived loss of nature at its best on a sensitive mind, rendered even more sensitive by the untamed wild beauty of the greenery which influenced it.
The tree metaphor was also taken to be a sinewy path of societal ills with the roots deep down in the passages of shadowy history. Several titles used this connotation as an apt metaphor for their titles. An example, Vishabriksha (The Poison Tree) by Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay (1873) has little to do with plant life of any kind but the title has questions of polygamy and widow remarriage woven into it. Again, the stance here remains predominantly rural rather than urban. The symbolism retains its pastoral roots.
The red of the life blood strikes one as prominent in both cases of life and death. The writer, Zebunnissa Hamidullah (1958), sketches the macabre picture of the tree as a symbol of death in ‘The Wonder Bloom’ the subject of which is a short stumpy tree known to bloom with a crimson flower only when a young newly married woman is buried alive underneath it.
The house, the tree and the person: a balanced triad
The natural environment is limitless, and trees of all kinds dot the earth. Literature also contains endless instances where trees have been mentioned both symbolically and as a frame of reference for the creation of the atmosphere. This paper however concerns itself not as much with the natural terrain but with the triad of man, his home and the tree within and without. In this context it is the urban life that affords the most graphic examples of the metamorphosis of the tree over time.
South Asian literature is heavily influenced by the eras through which it passes. As such, in an earlier age when electricity and all the modern gadgets that come with it, were unheard of, human life even in the cities followed a pastoral trend. People adjusted their lifestyle according to the seasons. It was the courtyard that was the focal point of the household with most activities taking place in the open under the shelter of a large and shady tree, usually either neem or peepul. In Fuvahmulah in the Maldives, literary accounts hold that nearly every household in well established neighbourhoods has at least one mango tree or nearby groves of Areca nut trees and breadfruit trees. In the Indo-Pak region, Neem trees in particular, held the added attraction of medicinal value along with shade. Innumerable accounts of this can be gleaned from various literary sources but one of the richest lifestyle previews can be found in Ujraa Dayaar, by Shahid Ahmed Dehlvi (1967), a book that looks particularly at the culture of Delhi before the riots in 1857 and since then. The images vary from young girls enjoying on swings hanging from the boughs to dry leaves being swept regularly before evening and the return of the men folk. While being near trees after dusk was not encouraged in superstitious mindsets, warm nights often brought with them, the idyllic scene of a grandmother concocting fairy tales for the younger ones with the tree branches forming the backdrop for many a monster or safe fairytale haven of princes as the need demanded it. In poorer households too, lack of space did not hinder the plantation of at least one tree outside the household whose overhanging branches provided just the right amount of shade at the entrance.
Views of the city as shown in books such as Ujraa Dayaar (1967) are filled with images of trees with the life of Man closely connected with seasonal changes and festivals to appreciate these changes being the order of the day. Hence we have instances where mangoes are plucked fresh from the trees while on a picnic and sights and sounds of the monsoon are welcomed by young girls singing and swinging together on ropes tied to sturdy tree branches.
As can be gleaned from these instances, the triad then till technological advancement took over our hearts and minds, was one of perfect harmony where the person lives in sync with natural elements – the tree, within the sphere of the material elements – his home. Architecturally and socially, it helped preserve the balance by bringing natural elements in context and harbouring a sense of importance for the preservation of this triad. However, with changes in lifestyle, the triad is currently in a state of imbalance. This has affected the mindset of the populace and the symbolism that surrounds the image of the tree.
Modern urban life and the harbingers of change
Various regions of South Asia each have harboured their own symbols and house – tree – person triads for centuries. Whether we analyse the simplicity inherent in the banana tree from the North East of the region and the mango tree in Southern climes acting as both nourishment and for practical purposes or the religious symbolism of the Peepul tree or even the medical properties of the Neem tree worshipped along with many others (Ahmed, 1995 and Amirthalingam, 2001), it has been the tree itself that has given man’s life some anchor. This can also be seen from the various illustrations presented here.
With the passage of time as the effects of industrialization and technology seep in to the suburbs and from then on to the villages, we see and hear less of the tree metaphor in current literary titles. Instead, the ‘roads’ seem to be the new urban metaphor where man made elements seem to have taken precedence over the natural ones. With the trees, we must also bid farewell it seems to the tales being spun around the courtyards as there are few to speak of in the modern short story. The friendly chirruping sounds of birds too seem to belong to older literature of the past. The writer writing from life is less likely to find enough space for this old comrade as the population explosion fleshes out the rooms and the triad retains only its duo – man and the space he lives in. As the great outdoors serves as a backdrop rather than the space he lives in, in the urban context the literary canvas recedes and only in rural spheres do fields, orchards and greens take on more than just filler roles.
The change then is as much inside as it is outside in the community man lives in. While nature remains unchanged, it is the perception of man that changes his views of the environment. The importance of trees and in some cases their sacred value is intact, yet the ecological and literary bonds are not as strong as they once were. In part this can be attributed to the loosening of associations and the overall lifestyle changes. Where once the romantically inclined chose couplets where the cooing of birds in shady groves constituted the greatest degree of bliss, the practice shows a very obvious downward trend with the passage of time.
Conclusion
As far as the natural habitat is concerned, the future is a word rich in conservative predilection. It is not just the literary scene that is becoming bereft of trees and the feathered friends that dwell on them, but the mental set can be seen to change the on the ground realities as well. The removal of the trees from within our homes disturbs the natural triad and takes man away from nature. Future generations grow up with an apathy marked by their very unnatural leanings towards a tradition of practicality and mechanistic materialism rather than moderate naturalism of the pastoral that was the treasure of our ancestral roots. Take any modern city today and the voices of environmentalists will be heard protesting loudly against senseless tree cutting. As a case in point, two major cities of Pakistan have fallen prey to this widespread tree cutting in the name of traffic and security. The canal road in Lahore may be robbed of nearly 10,000 mature trees by 2012 pending a court agreement while earlier Islamabad has gone through a similar cropping of its tree lined face. Can we hope that future story tellers and poets will preserve these details in their works? Will the coming generations ever know the grandeur of what was? When imbibing ideas from the environment who can guarantee that the ‘environment’ will stay unblemished for posterity? These are important questions that go beyond the idea of art for arts’ sake. Perhaps writers have a role to play after all in preserving the all that can be called natural in the ‘environment’ and also of making sure that their voice is heard. The trees and their dwellers, yet remain voiceless.
Iss baar jo eendhan ke liay kat ke gira hai
Chidiyon ko bada pyar tha us boorhay shajar se.
The one that has fallen in the name of fuel,
Was the old tree beloved of the birds.
Writer, Poet, Psychologist and 'Thinker' 
