The City Forest of Chandigarh

Spotting sambar deer while strolling through nature next to a man-made urban lake in northern India.

Unlike older cities in India that have deeper and longer and more violent histories of Mughal invasions or different warring dynasties or European colonizers, the city of Chandigarh is relatively ‘new’. Chandigarh was born shortly after the independence of India in 1947 when Jawaharlal Nehru proclaimed: “Let this be a new town, symbolic of freedom of India unfettered by the traditions of the past… and an expression of the nation’s faith in the future.” The initial contract for the design of the city had gone to the architect firm Mayer, Whittlessay & Glass in 1950, but one of the associates died in an aviation accident, so Albert Mayer dropped the project. (They were going for a more fanned-shaped design that was shelved.) The assignment then went to Charles Eduard Jeanneret, better known by his nom de plume Le Corbusier, and his team of associates.

Le Corbusier (1887-1965) was of Swiss-French architect, designer, urban planner, dabbler in painting, and a prolific writer of journals and books. He had Belgian ancestors by the surname of Lecorbésier hence the pseudonym. Le Corbusier helped design the headquarters of the United Nations on the East River of New York City. He was a brilliant spinner of ideas and polymath similar to Buckminster Fuller of the same era. Le Corbusier created the Modulor which is a measurement system for defining the average height of humans for designing buildings. With arms fully extended overhead, the average male figure measures about 2.2 meters. To ensure sufficient clearance and create cooler environments in warmer climates, it’s advisable to design higher ceilings, allowing for additional space. He was an eccentric and controversial figure who flirted with fascism, Nazism, and eugenics. His neighborhood straight-block planning is critiqued for being purposefully exclusive of the lower classes that would be increasingly marginalised.

This straight-block urban planning is what defines Chandigarh as unique in India in the 21^st century. On the map, the blocks look small and close enough to walk across the city easily, but on the ground the reality is that they are one kilometer long separated by circular roundabout hubs. This grid is divided into sectors that are numbered in a snake formation, meaning that they go from 1-2-3 and then loops back on itself for 4-5-6 and so on. Visitors generally find this system rather confusing. Therefore, street signs have been implemented to show visitors where to go when approaching a roundabout. The streets are 2-to-3 lanes wide on either side with white-painted lanes that people must respect. The British driving direction is used from the colonial era, even though it was built post-independence. The streets have dividers with grassy patches and flowers or bushes that are maintained regularly. Street cleaners cut the grass by hand and pick the little piles up with shovels and take them away in little trucks. There are electronic radars that zap anyone speeding or not respecting the laws of the roundabouts and road protocol in general.

On either side of the straight driving lanes, there are rows of large pilkhan trees also known as ficus virens or the white fig. The pilkhan has a magnificent trunk that has distorted tubular-like pipes ascending into the canopy and can grow to be easily over 50-60-70 feet tall. As a fruit tree, the pilkhan is especially effective in removing pollutants from the air, thus contributing to improved respiratory health and overall well-being. Whether Le Corbusier and his crew knew about the special powers of the pilkhan is debatable but here they are lining every street of Chandigarh in single or double rows on either side of the streets. Together, they provide the most welcome shade ever for the long straight cement sidewalk that would be otherwise unbearable to walk along under the strong summer sun. All the trees are numbered with white paint and the old ones are replaced by young saplings that are protected by little cement block casings, so the deer do not eat them.  

The straight streets plus the rows of trees then the red brick walls create a long green corridor through the city that leads to the Open Hand, the famous symbolic monument of Chandigarh, to the Rock Garden, and to the “Nature Trail in Lake Reserve Forest” also known as the ‘Nagar Van’ or City Forest as the little sign above the green and red metal gate indicates. The Lake Reserve Forest is 105.57 hectares and longs the northern shore of the artificial Sukhna Lake. Upon starting along the dirt path, there is a map that shows the trail and the names of some flora such as the mesquite, katha, kachnar, amla, gular, and shahtoot, as well as fauna like sambar deer, wild boar, mongoose, red jungle fowl, and, of course, the peacock. This is from the Department of Forest & Wildlife who have created great plaques along the path with motivating messages about nature, but first there is another large white sign with red and green letters that is worth quoting:

NAGAR VAN (CITY FORESTS)

Established under Nagar Van Udyan Yojana

Nagar Van Udyan Yojana is an Urban Forestry Scheme of Ministry of Environment, Forests & Climate Change (MoEF&CC), New Delhi, which aims at creating at least one city forest in each city having Municipal Corporation Class I Cities for providing wholesome healthy living environment and contribution to growth of smart, clean, green and healthy city. Under this scheme, the Department of Forests & Wildlife, UT Chandigarh has created City Forest (Nagar Van) in and around Lake Reserve Forest Area. It spreads over an area of 100 hectares with the following points:

OBJECTIVES

• To create awareness on plants and biodiversity.
• To sensitize visitors & tourists towards the conservation of natural resources.
• To provide education on important flora and fauna of the Chandigarh region.
• To provide green lungs i.e. clean air, noise reduction, water harvesting and reduction of city temperature.
• To conduct forestry related research associated with the management.
• To conserve aquatic flora and fauna.

FACILITIES

• Walkways / Jogging Trails / Nature Trails
• Shallow Water Bodies
• Visitor’s Shed / Rainshelter
• Meditation Hut
• Exercise Equipments (Open Air Gym)
• Children’s Park
• Public Convenience

Along the dirt path, rocks painted in red and green with white lettering display the names of various trees: The Pipal (ficus religiosa) is a beauty with hand-like branches spreading into thousands of little leaves. The Khair and the Amla share similar foliage that are rows of thin leaves lined along the stem. They create dappled shadows on the dirt that look like little shades. There is another plaque describing the large imposing Aam (mangifera indica) as the: State Tree of Chandigarh. It reads:

“I am the king of all fruits. I am native of India from where I spread to all over the world. I am the most cultivated fruit tree of the tropical world my fruits and leaves are used during various rituals,”

Another plaque introduces the State Bird of Chandigarh, the Indian Grey Hornbill:

“I am an arboreal bird and commonly seen with my companion. I have grey feathers with dull white belly. My horn is dark grey with a casque. When I was born, my father fed my mother while she remained inside the nest for nurturing me. I eat fruits of pipal, ber and karaunda.”

All around you there are trees and the sound of birds. Nearby lies a man-made lake, though the dense foliage obscures it from view, except at the entrance. There is a circular observation tower that has a metal spiral staircase you have to climb up to access. A young couple up there chatting or perhaps flirting. Below at the base of the tower, a man is on his hands and knees with his forehead pressed to a piece of cloth on the dirt. He leans back and looks upwards, brings his open palms with his thumbs behind his ear, and repeats the motion of bending forwards to pray.

Inside the circular structure there are photos and descriptions of the different animals in the city forest, offering insight into the hidden life around you. Every so often, there is a sign overhanging on the side of the path that is supported by a fake tree branch. This is great messaging from the Department of Forests & Wildlife:

“Look deep into nature and then you will understand everything better…”  

“Help sustaining all life on Earth.”

“The greatest threat to our planet is the belief that someone else will save it. Let’s join hands to save earth.”

And probably the best city-forest message ever:

“Be like a tree. Stay grounded. Connect with your roots. Go out on a limb. Bend before you break. Turn over a new leaf. Enjoy the view. Keep growing.”

This is deep, powerful and eternal in the afternoon heat of Chandigarh. As you contemplate these words of wisdom, you go further along the path and come upon a middle-aged woman with light pink sneakers, a maroon-purple gown, and a thin peach scarf thrown loosely around her neck. She is sweeping the path with a straw broom, sending clouds of dust scattering on either side of the trail. Her brow is sweaty and she smiles as you walk past.

Further along, there are the rows of acacia trees and the solitary bamboo swaying in the breeze, making a creaking sound as its long shafts rub against each other. There is a massive reddish-brown centipede that crosses the path quite quickly actually as if it had somewhere important to go.

By the river that leads to the lake, two men crouch near the edge. Around the bend, there is a guy with brown sandals, dark pants, white shirt, black hair sitting on the bank by the water, talking on his cellphone, twitching at a thin stick in the muddy water.

Further around the bend where the water lilies and lotuses have taken over the far end of the lake, a group of four or five men sit on the path, preparing their fishing rods. some have simple sticks with strings tied around the end, while another holds a stick bent like a bow, its string pulled taut. “Fishing, boys?” “Yes, sir”, they smile and bob their heads sideways and wave you on.  

The “Jungle Trail” as this part of the path is called suddenly stops. The heavy rains seem to have blown out the earth barrage; impossible to get to the other side without wading across the muddy water. This is where the Sukhna Choe River enters the ‘regulatory end’ of the reservoir. If the bank to the regulatory end is blown out then, when it rains hard like it does during monsoon season, it must flood as it did in the year 2024. You have to turn back and retrace your steps. You pass the ‘fishermen’, the lilies and lotuses, the guys looking at the remains of the river, the acacias, the woman still sweeping the dust from the dirt path. You continue past the aam, the khair, the amla, and pipal trees, past the couple in the watchtower observing each other, and past a young Sikh family of four – the mother is perspiring as she carries her daughter on her back, while the father and son engage in a serious conversation. Eventually you come across a group of hobby photographers with long lenses taking shots of wildlife. If it were not for Dayaakaran sitting there looking into the foliage with his massive lens, you would not have noticed the five or six sambar deer grazing in the trees near the lake. Listed as a ‘vulnerable species’ on the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species  since 2008, the sambar seems to be thriving here.

This is the great power of an urban forest: it brings wildlife as close to humans as possible. The sambar slowly looks up at you for a moment from the grass and they know that you do not pose any threat. They look down again and move on a little to continue grazing, not in a hurry, not out of acceptance, just doing their thing, knowing intuitively that you are not a menace.

In this context, this nagar van could also be considered a peri-urban forest as it physically connects Chandigarh with Haryana. However, this seems more of a technical distinction since the forested area is actually adjacent to the Sukhna Wildlife Sanctuary, which extends toward villages further east. Here, human habitats are connected almost seamlessly with natural environments, -though the boundaries, created by humans, are still obvious – most notably with the artificial lake designed by Le Corbusier of Chandigarh.

From the quarter-circle asphalt path on the south-east side of Sukhna Lake, you look out across the water, past the paddle boats, toward the trees and the Sivalik Hills with the lower Himalayas visible in the distance. It’s Sunday: families and friends loiter and meander along the asphalt path. There are no cars and no bikes allowed here, just a ‘zone of peace’. as Le Corbusier called the artificial Sukhna Lake: a place to attract people from all walks of life for ‘the Care of Body and Spirit’” – as the caption reads beneath a photo of him and “PL Varma, the then Chief Engineer who initiated the creation of Sukhna Lake in 1958 with an earthen dam of about 3 km length and 14 m height” inside the circular water pump edifice. When the lake was dug, the earth was piled along the edges, creating an embarkment that was reinforced by cement and stone. This stone wall now serves as a resting place for visitors, who sit and watch the boats and birds. The asphalt walking path arcs around in a quarter circle, like the 6-8 o’clock portion of a clock.

All along the path, there are benches offering spots for people to sit and watch others walk by. Well-maintained grassy patches, dotted with flowers, and low cement lighting blocks illuminate the path at night. These low lighting boxes reduce light pollution and emit classical Hindustani melodies created by the gentle plucking of the sitar that accompanies the passersby on their stroll. Another caption inside the old water pump tower, now that a mini exhibition room reads: “Corbusier designed low lights along the promenade ‘to see the stars in the sky and the stars in the mountains too, in the water and in absolute silence.’” The Hindustani classical music must have been added in later years and definitely enhances the ambiance of the Sukhna Lake at night when the moon shines brightly and ripples a shaky white line across the dark waters.

But, today, it’s Sunday and the promenade is full of life. Saris in dark green, light green, red with gold, orange, pink, and blue swirl among the crowd, while light blue, pink, gray, brown, and red dastār turbans  add color to the scene. The paddle-boat pier is busy with young couples and families that line along the orange and blue plastic-buoys to get a clunky life-jacket before clambering into the tour boats or the smaller paddle boats that are shaped like white, blue, green, or pink swans. A sign reads: “Selfie and photography on boats in lake is strictly prohibited.” But everyone is clicking away on their smartphones. This is an evening for relaxation, leisure, and simple joys. By the food court, packed with people buying snacks and refreshments, a mini amusement park adds to the festive atmosphere, complete with bumper cars and a slow-motion circular train ride. Laughter and the hum of conversation fill the air.

Kites soar overhead, above the water they glide and turn, and occasionally dive. Flapping from the surface of the lake, a kite carries a small fish in its talons, and flies over the path that borders the second row of thicker trees marking the edge of the promenade. Along this tree line, there is an additional path for joggers and fast walkers. Young women jog here wearing earphones and spandex yoga pants. An older gentleman is trotting along with a sweaty gray t-shirt. Couples and groups of friends sit on the cement-stone embarkment wall watching the water, awaiting the cool breezes of the encroaching evening.

On a nearby bench, a group of elderly men with long beards and colorful turbans converse. Each low cement light-music box is numbered, and #281 has a little sign that reads: “PLASTIC IS LETHAL FOR THE LAKE KEEP IT PLASTIC FREE”. There is no plastic floating on the lake, no bottles floating along the edges or near the lilies and lotuses, especially down where the Garden of Silence and the Buddhist meditation pavilion is located. Everything is clean, free from any trash.

This serene environment is part of Le Corbusier’s vision. While he may have been a controversial figure with dubious political penchants. He was reportedly an arrogant man based on his predisposition for giving orders to his Indian associates, but his influence is undeniable. His letter to A.R. Prabhawalkar, the Senior Architect, reveals his controlling nature: “I absolutely refuse this solution if you, Prabhawalkar, do not submit to me first a system which can ‘bolt’ the entrance of the dam stopping the ministers, the directors, the high officials, the visitors and whosoever from driving their car on the dam.” Regardless of his tone, his adamance for having a no-vehicle zone around the artificial lake and the surrounding forest stuck throughout the decades.

Today, policemen in white uniforms put up barriers to block cars, motorbikes, and bicycles from entering the roads adjacent to the lake and forest. Everyone happily walks on foot, holding hands, playfully nudging one another as they pass the camel ride zone and ice-cream vendors, chatting about nothing in particular, just spending time together outside in a more natural setting.