Two mature trees crashed to the ground in Delhi’s East Kailash this week; One is outside the National Heart Institute and the other is near the ISKCON Temple. Fortunately, no lives were lost, unlike last year which claimed the life of a motorcyclist. The roads were cleared, traffic resumed and the city moved.
But perhaps we are asking the wrong question. Instead of asking: “Why did the rain make these trees fall?” We should ask ourselves: “What did we do with these trees long before the rain arrived?”
Across the country, urban trees are increasingly portrayed as posing hazards during the monsoon. They are blamed for crushing cars, closing roads and tragically taking lives. However, healthy, structurally sound trees do not simply collapse due to rainfall. Rain and wind are often only the final trigger. The real damage usually occurs over years – through concreting around trunks, repeated digging, careless utility work, indiscriminate pruning, soil compaction, and neglect of root systems.
Mumbai offers a sobering warning. In just the first week of July, more than 1,100 trees collapsed, already exceeding the total number recorded during the entire 2025 monsoon. Three people were killed, including a student, while hundreds of vehicles were damaged. Many questions have been raised about whether extreme weather alone can explain the crisis, pointing instead to widespread road construction, damaged root systems and poor forest management.
Delhi should not ignore this problem as Mumbai’s problem. It is India’s problem.
Our cities have become remarkably efficient in building roads, bridges, drains, footpaths, metro corridors, pipelines and underground facilities. Every civil project comes with engineering drawings, schedules, contractors, and inspection reports. However, a crucial question is rarely asked; How will existing trees survive the project?
There is rarely a tree protection plan available to the public. Excavation often occurs within root zones with little attention to structural roots. Trenches are dug, sidewalks are extended to stumps, heavy machinery compacts the soil, leaving mature trees standing on islands of concrete. Months or years later, a storm comes and the weak tree falls. The rain is blamed, while years of damage remain unseen.
This is not just an environmental issue. It is a matter of public safety, urban planning and governance.
Every bridge collapse is investigated. Every aircraft accident is analyzed. Every construction failure leads to structural investigations and accountability. Why should a mature tree collapse be treated differently?
Every fallen tree should trigger a scientific investigation after the incident. Authorities must document species, age, health, root condition, date of pruning, soil condition, evidence of fungal decomposition, extent of fossilization, and any civil or utility works carried out within the root zone during previous years. The implementing agencies must disclose the measures taken to protect the tree before, during and after those works. Without such investigations, we will continue to confuse preventable failures with unavoidable natural disasters.
Ironically, while cities struggle to protect the trees they already have, they continue to celebrate with tree planting drives. Every monsoon brings pictures of dignitaries planting saplings. Goals are announced, records are claimed and green credentials are advertised. However, seedlings cannot replace mature trees.
A 50-year-old tree is not just a fifty-year-old sapling. It represents decades of accumulated environmental capital; Shade, cooling, carbon storage, biodiversity habitats, stormwater regulation and, most importantly, pollution removal. Scientific studies have consistently shown that mature urban trees capture particulate matter, lower ambient temperatures, mitigate urban heat islands, and improve public health. Its ecological services increase with increasing size and canopy area.
When such a tree is lost, the replacement value cannot be measured simply by planting another sapling elsewhere.
It is this contradiction that defines the nature of urban forests in India today. We invest huge efforts in creating new green cover while allowing existing green infrastructure to deteriorate. We celebrate agriculture and neglect conservation. We count seedlings but rarely the remaining mature trees.
The consequences are becoming increasingly clear.
Delhi courts have repeatedly recognized that trees are not ordinary municipal assets. The Supreme Court described the tree as a “living organism” and stressed that individual mature trees deserve the highest degree of protection. The Supreme Court has repeatedly emphasized that the indiscriminate destruction of trees has serious consequences for public health and future generations.
However, our institutional response remains fragmented. Citizens who report uprooted trees for restoration are often transferred between departments. The Delhi High Court has directed civic agencies to set up tree ambulances and tree surgery units so that damaged trees can get timely professional attention instead of being lost unnecessarily. But when citizens recently tried to report uprooted trees for potential restoration, they found no accessible emergency mechanism capable of assessing whether these living assets could still be saved.
There is no doubt that climate change is bringing more heavy rains and strong winds. But climate change should not become an excuse for governance failure. In fact, it makes scientific tree management more important than ever. Stronger storms require healthier root systems, larger volumes of uncompacted soil, qualified arborists, regular risk assessments, and stringent protection during infrastructure work.
The answer is not to remove more trees before each monsoon season. It does not mean pruning them randomly in the name of safety. Excessive and reckless pruning often weakens trees, reduces vegetation, increases susceptibility to disease, and creates exactly the structural problems it claims to prevent.
Instead, India needs to treat its urban trees as critical infrastructure. Every infrastructure project must include mandatory tree protection plans. Root zones must be mapped before excavation begins. Independent arborists – not contractors – must certify protective measures.
Every tree failure should be investigated. Cities must maintain publicly available inventories that record the health of mature trees, their maintenance history, and their structural condition. Preserving forests – not just plantations – should become the key performance indicator for urban forests.
Because the real tragedy is not the falling trees.
The real tragedy is that we have normalized their decline.
The trees of East Kailash did not fail overnight. Nor do Mumbai’s 1,100 trees. They have been weakened over the years by countless small decisions that ignored the living systems beneath our feet.
Until our cities start protecting trees as seriously as they protect our roads, bridges, and buildings, each monsoon season will bring more downed trees, more damaged vehicles, more blocked roads, and inevitably more avoidable loss of life.
Trees don’t just fall.
The cities that depend on them have failed them.
Bhavrin Kandhari is an environmental rights advocate. The opinions expressed are personal.
