In last week’s piece, I had mentioned the sights and sounds of home. My strolls in the residential area where I stayed revealed many changes to the place, some pleasant and some not. With the passing away of the older generation, many of these houses had passed on to the next generation, a fair amount of whom no longer lived in the city. So, they did the practical thing. They sold the ancestral home for a fortune and invested the money some place else. Those who bought these houses seemed to be a well-heeled lot. The original residence was brought down in many cases, or remodelled.

I tried counting the number of original homesteads and was not surprised to see that these were few and far between. So, even if the paint was peeling and the garden overgrown, I welcomed the sight of the familiar. Here time seemed to have stood still as I opened a creaky gate and entered some of these.

But there were many others which I used to visit often and which had changed beyond recognition. In fact, as I stopped outside the gate of one of these, I was confused. I remembered the number of the house and this was confirmed by the writing near the gate. But what loomed in front of me was a travesty of what there was once. The new owner had done away with all vestiges of the past and built what I can only call an eyesore.

Then there is a new breed which seems to have sprung up only in the last decade or so. They are the property investors who have bought several houses in the area and rebuilt mansions of epic proportions. Some are hard to look at while a few, I must admit, are rather grand. But all are huge. As I stared in shock and awe. I began to think of how hard it must be to maintain these. Finding efficient domestic help is like searching for a needle in a haystack.

But I am pleasantly surprised to see that the tree-lined avenues are the same. There are a variety of trees such as eucalyptus, jacaranda, gulmohar (flame tree) and laburnum. When they are in bloom, the streets are a riot of colours, a sight for sore eyes. Just as the ghaf tree in the UAE and efforts being made to preserve this indigenous plant, I am happy that no one has tried to cut these down. In fact, a friend who lives in one of the original houses, tells me of a eucalyptus tree whose roots have caused her compound wall to crack under their pressure. She had contemplated cutting it down, but was stopped by the thought that felling a tree could get her into trouble with the law. Apparently, permission has to be sought from the authority concerned. So, she has decided to live with the fractured wall and feel she is contributing to the preservation of a tree that has lived there longer than she has.

Growing up, I remember the hours spent climbing trees that dotted the compound. There were fig trees, lychee, mango, custard apple and wood apple. We helped ourselves to the fruit while playing outdoor games. Running around for hours was hungry work.

We contemplated building a tree house that we had read about in books, but the effort involved was daunting and so we gave up the idea.

But the tree that provided hours of fun was the ubiquitous banyan. Its aerial roots provided props for play as we swung on these and imagined ourselves to be mini Tarzans in the making. There were interesting hollows in the trunk that gave it a unique character.

So, the next time you grumble about fallen leaves, think instead of the invaluable role of these silent sentinels. They are as unique as those original homes.