<p>No one who has lived in Bangalore during 1930s and 40s can forget its pristine charm and grandeur. The ‘Garden city of India’. Morning walkers were greeted by the gentle aromatic breeze and a riot of colours of fresh flowers. I don’t remember seeing a single multi-storeyed residential building in the entire city. Every house prided on its garden, however small. Gardens were almost a cultural necessity. </p>.<p>‘Pollution’ was a term alien to us. While every locality was home to a well-laid park, Lalbagh and Cubbon park were the city’s special attractions for their breath-taking beauty. </p>.<p>My father, an ardent nature lover, had painstakingly raised a sprawling garden with exotic trees and other seasonal flower plants. Among those I fondly remember is the Gulmohar tree, a landmark by itself with its giant trunk 3 metres in diameter, and its glorious branches making a wide colourful canopy, which covered much of our street!</p>.<p>Resplendent with bright red flowers laced with yellow streaks against a rich green background of its velvety leaves, the tree was home to innumerable species of birds. When its trunk developed a huge crack at the base, the residents of the entire locality voluntarily offered their services to close the crack -- a humongous task of securing the trunk with massive steal clamps. That’s how much Bangaloreans loved their greenery.</p>.<p>As children, we were charmed by our special companions, the sparrows. They came in droves twittering, and accepted feed from us fearlessly. When we gleefully dived at them, they would fly away in a flash--- only to return chirping as if to challenge us! It was indeed delightful. I cannot forget the day when my father caught me fatally injuring a sparrow with my catapult. Never before had I seen him so livid and sad. He took me task, appropriately, and said the words that are etched in my memory: “A garden without birds is like a body without a soul!” How true it rings in today’s Bengaluru! </p>.<p>In the mad race between development and nature, the former seems to have won! Bengaluru is no more a place for the little winged charmers. They have flown away, perhaps never to return.</p>
<p>No one who has lived in Bangalore during 1930s and 40s can forget its pristine charm and grandeur. The ‘Garden city of India’. Morning walkers were greeted by the gentle aromatic breeze and a riot of colours of fresh flowers. I don’t remember seeing a single multi-storeyed residential building in the entire city. Every house prided on its garden, however small. Gardens were almost a cultural necessity. </p>.<p>‘Pollution’ was a term alien to us. While every locality was home to a well-laid park, Lalbagh and Cubbon park were the city’s special attractions for their breath-taking beauty. </p>.<p>My father, an ardent nature lover, had painstakingly raised a sprawling garden with exotic trees and other seasonal flower plants. Among those I fondly remember is the Gulmohar tree, a landmark by itself with its giant trunk 3 metres in diameter, and its glorious branches making a wide colourful canopy, which covered much of our street!</p>.<p>Resplendent with bright red flowers laced with yellow streaks against a rich green background of its velvety leaves, the tree was home to innumerable species of birds. When its trunk developed a huge crack at the base, the residents of the entire locality voluntarily offered their services to close the crack -- a humongous task of securing the trunk with massive steal clamps. That’s how much Bangaloreans loved their greenery.</p>.<p>As children, we were charmed by our special companions, the sparrows. They came in droves twittering, and accepted feed from us fearlessly. When we gleefully dived at them, they would fly away in a flash--- only to return chirping as if to challenge us! It was indeed delightful. I cannot forget the day when my father caught me fatally injuring a sparrow with my catapult. Never before had I seen him so livid and sad. He took me task, appropriately, and said the words that are etched in my memory: “A garden without birds is like a body without a soul!” How true it rings in today’s Bengaluru! </p>.<p>In the mad race between development and nature, the former seems to have won! Bengaluru is no more a place for the little winged charmers. They have flown away, perhaps never to return.</p>