Delhiwale: Musical tree

In Delhi's New Friends Colony, a fruit-bearing tree attracts hundreds of birds, creating a vibrant symphony, while life continues below its shade.

Intro: A market landmark in fruit-bearing phase

The tree stands across the lane from Nathu Sweets in New Friends Colony Community market. (HT Photo)

Cacao cacao cacao… the chant is discordant, yet extraordinarily soft and musical. The source of the soaring sound happens to be one of the market trees, here in a plaza in south Delhi’s New Friends Colony Community Centre. The tree stands across the lane from Nathu Sweets.

This is actually the incessant twittering of birds. The mass warble isn’t slowing down for even a moment’s respite. Its persuasive force is almost threatening to lift the tree up into the air. (The drone of an airplane passing by the nearby Lotus Tower tries to outrival the swelling roar of the avian orchestra, but fails).

While the tree must be teeming with hundreds of birds, it is so thickly green that not a single bird is visible. All you see are leaves. The genial Rakesh who administers Ram Sevak Pan Bhandar kiosk, right under these green leaves, says that the tree is enlivened with such exceptional twittering only once a year, which is now—April. “This is the month when the tree gives fruit… the birds then are drawn to it.” He looks up quizzically, unable to identify the tree by its name.

Despite the afternoon sun being uncomfortably warm, the tree’s dense shade has induced a sort of alcove without walls, creating a zone of coolness underneath its canopy. It shelters a few businesses. Ravi Rajasthani Mehendi Art is a network of stalls that includes a kiosk for bindis, ear-rings, hair bands and hair clips. A hoarding points out that “we do nose/ear & other piercing.” Administering the bindi kiosk, the friendly Kaptan Singh confirms that the extraordinary bird-sound is a consequence of the tree’s fruit-bearing phase. He points to a cluster of aerial roots hanging by the trunk—“it is a bargad, but not the desi bargad… it is a foreign variety of bargad.”

Meanwhile, the asynchronous symphony is spreading out to the plaza’s far-off corners, making no difference to the plaza’s daily life. A pavement astrologer continues to analyse a customer’s horoscope, a woman is overseeing her child finish a cake shop pastry, two girls are browsing a bookstall.

More minutes pass with no interruption to the twittering. A street-recycler is abruptly hit by a volley of tiny bullet-like things. These are the fruit falling from the tree.

Looking up, Kaptan Singh mutters that the communal twittering shall last for a couple more days. After which the birds will ditch the place, he says. Except of course for a handful of loyal birds who never ever abandon the tree. They also always remain silent and motionless. See photo.