An American in Delhi.

[Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi]

The Wednesday evening is slowly-slowly settling down over Lodhi Garden. The day of Holi is drawing to a close. High in the air, a cloud of pink appears to hang suspended. It resembles the gulal of the festival. But the colour is not powder thrown in celebration. It comes from the flowers of a tree.

The flowers rise on long, leafless branches of a tree standing at the edge of the park’s central lawn. For most of the year, this tree draws visitors for simpler reasons. Its leaves cast a broad, restful shade. Beneath it sit green benches from which one of the garden’s most familiar views opens out: a panorama that includes the Sheesh Gumbad and Bara Gumbad. People pause here to sit, to WhatsApp, to read books, or to look at the aforementioned monuments.

This evening, however, the tree is in bloom. The pink flowers are flaring outward like tiny trumpets, which give the tree its common English name. But the Pink Trumpet tree has no desi naam. It is an American import that has quietly entered the city’s seasonal cycle. Each year, the tree blooms between mid-February and late March, before the extreme heat sets in. The pink trumpet is spread across the city, but perhaps not in as great numbers as other trees. Even so, you can spot it in Nehru Park, Rajaji Road, Rajghat, Karol Bagh, etc.

This moment, two women are sitting on the bench under the tree. They are looking down, not at the fallen flowers scattered across the patchy grass, but at a tiny squirrel. The creature darts among the flowers as the women offer it bits of food.

Now one more flower drops, landing near a couple sitting close together on the lawn. They aren’t distracted by the flowers; their faces still streaked with gulal.

Early in the week, an account on X called @delhitrees posted photos of this very tree, calling it by its scientific name. The post read: “The pink tabebuia is in bloom at Lodhi Garden. Undeniably beautiful—yet one is reminded of M. Krishnan, who openly despised their overuse in Bengaluru. To him, they were ornamental outsiders, overwhelming the quieter native rhythms of the land. Good that Delhi has so very few!”

The reference was to the late naturalist M. Krishnan. One reply to the tweet noted: “Native trees have their own charm and environmental benefits. But nothing much can be done as foreign varieties have established themselves.”

Indeed, origin is one significant fact, and presence is another. (How many of us Delhiwale can trace our origins to Delhi?) Centuries ago, this tree did not exist in Delhi. Today, it stands here, blooming faithfully every year at this time. While the debate over native and foreign species will no doubt continue on social media and elsewhere, that all feel too abstract under this tree. Here the world is as it is, with pink trumpet flowers in bloom.