
A grown tree in Mylapore still in its ‘baby diapers’
The Hindu
This is complicated: one wants to gently hold this grown tree, one of moderate age, at Karpagambal Nagar in Mylapore by its trunk and give a squeeze of commiseration; or a bear hug that would sap the grief out if it (that pun slipped in unnoticed). Both acts of kindness have been rendered difficult by the very tragedies that warrant this dramatic, physical show of kindness. The tree seems to be taking a disturbingly transverse route in the air. Before going to the second problem, a question. How comfortable would you be if you have outgrown the school uniform, the convocation hat earned by a college education, but not the baby diaper? Under your slick chino trousers that now-anachronistic piece of inner wear, which was meant only for an exigency, continues as if time has stood still. And time seems to have stood still for this tree: it still wears what it had to in its babyhood: the tree guard.
This is complicated: one wants to gently hold this grown tree, one of moderate age, at Karpagambal Nagar in Mylapore by its trunk and give a squeeze of commiseration; or a bear hug that would sap the grief out if it (that pun slipped in unnoticed). Both acts of kindness have been rendered difficult by the very tragedies that warrant this dramatic, physical show of kindness.
The tree seems to be taking a disturbingly transverse route in the air. Before going to the second problem, a question. How comfortable would you be if you have outgrown the school uniform, the convocation hat earned by a college education, but not the baby diaper? Under your slick chino trousers that now-anachronistic piece of inner wear, which was meant only for an exigency, continues as if time has stood still. And time seems to have stood still for this tree: it still wears what it had to in its babyhood: the tree guard.
On the face of it, this appears to be a trivial concern; and flagging it might come across as nit-picking. As it turns out, that is not the case. T.D. Babu, tree conservationist associated with Nizhal and a member of the Chennai District Green Committee, points out this is no light matter. He reveals that Greater Chennai Corporation is regularly urged to divest trees (on roads under its watch) of tree guards once they have outgrown them, because an “overstaying” tree guard can interfere with a tree’s growth to varying degrees depending on the species.
Babu explains: “When the tree has grown, the part where the tree guard clasps it can become its weak point. That part will be ‘undergrown’ and the part above can become ‘overgrown’, making the tree top-heavy in a sense. In this scenario, there is the possibility of the tree getting uprooted. We have noticed this happen many a time; a striking case was witnessed at Indira Nagar First Main Road around three years ago, the tree getting uprooted on account of lop-sided growth.”
Before closing, a question for qualified “tree doctors”: can the tree be wrenched straight, being steered away from the inconvenient trajectory it is taking?

This is complicated: one wants to gently hold this grown tree, one of moderate age, at Karpagambal Nagar in Mylapore by its trunk and give a squeeze of commiseration; or a bear hug that would sap the grief out if it (that pun slipped in unnoticed). Both acts of kindness have been rendered difficult by the very tragedies that warrant this dramatic, physical show of kindness. The tree seems to be taking a disturbingly transverse route in the air. Before going to the second problem, a question. How comfortable would you be if you have outgrown the school uniform, the convocation hat earned by a college education, but not the baby diaper? Under your slick chino trousers that now-anachronistic piece of inner wear, which was meant only for an exigency, continues as if time has stood still. And time seems to have stood still for this tree: it still wears what it had to in its babyhood: the tree guard.












