Chai With Priya Under a banyan tree

It was 40 degrees Celsius in the shade and I was sat under a four-metre-high banyan tree in Mumbai’s suburbs, grateful for the shade this old tree provided me.

Tall, leafy, with some funny looking branches growing out of it, I look down and noticed a red and white stripe painted at the base of the tree.

And then I looked across the street and found the whole street was lined with similar trees of a similar height, providing a much-needed canopy of shade to passers-by and street vendors.

I was in India during one of the worst heatwaves the country has experienced and a very delayed start to the monsoon season.

The days were unbearably hot, with temperatures reaching way over 40 degrees Celsius, even in the shade, and worst still in the hot sun.

It made me miss Gibraltar’s cooling and very welcoming poniente breeze and the access to being able to cool off in the shade or, at best, the sea.

And I couldn’t help but think of the piece I wrote a few weeks ago about Megha Majumdar’s novel, A Guardian and a Thief.

In her book, Majumdar writes about the effect of a climate crisis and the impact it has on her city of Kolkata.

It not only has an impact on the availability of electricity and running water, but also on the availability of food, water, and basic resources.

I was able to put into context how that level of heat could impact society.

Not used to those temperatures and with chronic illnesses where I struggle to regulate my body temperature, I would not leave my house without my fan and a bottle filled with cold water.

And while I would be sweating buckets, others around me just complained about the heat without showing much sign for discomfort.

But the one thing that kept me going were the trees. They provided much-needed shade in sunny streets, serving to cool down areas which otherwise would have been intolerable to stand in.

They were also very interesting and pretty to look at.

From my rickshaw or taxi, I saw an abundance of beautiful banyan and neem trees planted across the city.

The older the tree, the wider the trunks, the more interesting the branches.

I found myself snapping photographs of each interesting tree I saw, much to the surprise of those around me.

Some served as shade to street vendors, others entwined with the building next to it, many were used as shrines to the different Hindu deities.

Every tree carried a different story, and each tree has seen the city develop around them over the years.

Each had red and white stripes painted at the base of the tree, to provide much-needed visibility to motorists during the monsoon season or in the fog.

I read that the white paint was a mixture of lime and neem oil or copper sulphate to act as pest control.

The white also helps to reflect the hot sun and stop the roots from drying out.

But despite their long-standing presence, with some trees reportedly over 100 years old in some areas, environmentalists in Mumbai have raised concerns about the trees.

They attribute Mumbai’s intolerable temperatures to trees being felled for urban development and the sheer amount of construction across the city, not just for housing but also on the roads.

There is also a concern about damage being caused by trees during the inclement weather, with tree rot and a lack of pruning leading to many issues across the city.

Just last weekend alone, two people were killed and six individuals were injured in different incidents of tree damage across the city.

The monsoon rain, coupled with high speed winds, have caused irreparable damage in the city, with many questioning the poor maintenance of trees.

And while in the grand scheme of the city I may have only seen a few and photographed a handful, these trees are part of the urban fabric of the city.

I cannot imagine a Mumbai that did not feature the mix of old and new buildings, wide roads filled with colourful lorries, black and yellow rickshaws, motorcycles carrying whole families and all these trees.