On the Banyan tree at the centre of Auroville

Observers of Nature and lovers of trees who have lived here long enough will have noted the several characteristics that are unique to banyan trees, such as:

• a banyan tree has the ability to fuse its limbs, and to wrap itself around another tree or any support it finds secure.

• a banyan tree will sprout aerial roots with more or less proficiency according to its needs for growth and the conditions surrounding it.

• over a long period of time a banyan tree ‘moves’: its original trunk usually dies out while the stronger roots it has sent down become new centres of gravity for further growth of limbs.

• a banyan tree will expand over and around any ‘obstacle’ so as to retain and acquire both exposure to light and access to moisture.

We do not know clearly the age of this Banyan tree; how old was it when the Mother indicated it was to be the geographical centre of Her city-to-be, of Her dream? Twenty years, fifty years old?

Its trunk was sizeable but as it was prey to constant plunder – by goats or for fire-wood – its development had been heavily stunted.

An amma’s [a local lady who was the original ‘guardian’ of the tree. eds.] determined dedication to it allowed for some measure of respect, but it is only when we all began to organise our life around it and responded to the care the Mother extended towards it, and the inner significance She accorded it, that its natural life-power could begin to fully manifest.

A number of roots – I think it was perhaps twelve? – were encouraged to develop; the largest roots one can see today are among those.

Fairly soon, in the mid-1970s, while cleaning the dead wood, several cavities were found in the original limbs and trunk. I do not remember all the techniques or remedies that were tried at the time, but eventually one method was selected: those cavities were cleaned and filled with lime.

Over the years new limbs grew from the stronger roots, so that the tree began to develop not one but two or three structures, each having slight variations in their growth pattern: one could observe, for instance, that new leaves would appear in one distinct canopy, then another.

A few more roots were encouraged to provide supports for new limbs extending so far out that they were in danger of breaking.

I think grass was first planted in the early 80s, when a ring of stone benches was placed around the tree and someone brought a prototype of a set of sprinklers, for which the kids were the happiest! This was, I think, Korean grass at the time. Later we found that St Augustine grass was preferable as it was much sturdier and required much less water, a definite plus both in terms of water-conservation and for the health of the tree.

What guided us in planting grass was the sense of that heavenly peace and delight expressed in the painting Huta had done under the Mother’s direction, named by her ‘The Spirit of Auroville’, with squirrels, birds and rabbits frolicking and wild flowers singing from a verdant floor.

The Banyan tree kept growing and extending and, as the construction of the twelve large and twelve small petals around the sphere proceeded, there was a concern that somehow one ought to exercise some control, perhaps try to guide the growth away from Matrimandir, or at least prevent it from reaching closer and interfering with the constructed parts.

The extent of the shade obviously increased as well and that might jeopardise the possibility for such flowering shrubs as hibiscuses being planted in the inner gardens adjacent to the tree.

This was how it was decided to shift the Garden of Unity westwards and to construct the Unity pond as its new centre.

At the end of the 1990s we observed several facts: we found a large increase of rot in the main trunk and in some of the original limbs; and the canopies, loaded with unpruned branches, were reaching the ground almost all around, and some branches were now lying on the outer slope of the nearest of the small petals.

Making a thorough inspection we found that the lime fillings had prevented us from seeing the rot continuing underneath, and that there were many crevices and cracks retaining moisture, havens for all kinds of insects, besides termites. We also found that several of the original limbs, thus weakened, threatened to break apart or fall off.

These phenomena had occurred in other banyan trees that were familiar to many of us: one at ‘Promesse’, which was struck by lightning and collapsed, the other one at the reception area, which was eaten away by termites and severely damaged in a storm.

We proceeded to:

• remove all the lime fillings

• thoroughly clean every cavity and, in the process we had to hollow out much of the main trunk which had become a spongy mass of red soil mixed with decomposed organic matter, and home to a wide variety of bugs

• cleanse the hollow parts from all fungi and mushrooms

• remove the grass from the foot of the main trunk and build a black clay slope instead

• clip back all the branches by a few metres, leaving a good clearance all around

• check each and every limb in terms of weight and direction and stimulate the growth of additional roots so they would be safe from the effects of a storm (we had several violent wind storms)

• discourage further growth in the direction of Matrimandir by pruning the joints so that ulterior growth could be directed away from it.

We wanted to ‘save’ the main trunk, that is, preserve life in it, and keep the sap flowing. That is why a couple of roots were encouraged very near to it so that eventually they would fuse, while regular check-ups and applications of neem oil on the inner part of the original trunk would keep it clean and prevent any further intrusion by termites or fungi.

In this way the overall canopy has since then gained in height, but been reduced in span, and it is quite feasible to monitor further growth without violating the integrity of this tree, sacred to all of us and beloved by all.