Harking back: Of the ‘raids’ on the fruit trees of Lawrence Gardens

Almost over half a century ago when as schoolchildren, from our Masson Road house we would set off in gangs to ‘raid’ Lawrence Garden’s fruit trees. The fruit was seasonally delicious and gardeners equipped with a bow-like slings protected them, whose mud pellets made sure we fell off the tree in stinging pain.

Though we remember those days fondly, yet once caught we were forced to sit on the ground for hours making one thousand pellet each from mud and water. In a humorous sort of way we were manufacturing our own demise. Forbidden fruits are always more delicious. Over the years we got to know every nook and corner of this amazing garden. Once in college – GC, naturally - we learnt the history of the Botanical Garden. Our late father used to claim that every known species of trees have been planted here, gifted by Kew Gardens of London, where today a Lahore friend Dr Shaheena alias ‘Tooti’ is considered a botanical authority in her own right.

The history of this garden is fascinating. The entire land was originally owned by the family of Emperor Akbar, and this huge garden was where the emperor’s maternal cousin Muhammad Qasim Khan, who was a Mughal military engineer, was buried in 1590. Over his grave was built his tomb. In the 1830s the Sikh ruler extended the tomb converting it into a residence. Come 1849 and with the East India Company taking over, the garden was divided into two parts, they being the new British Governor’s House and the other being Company Bagh as it was known then.

In 1857 when the First War of Independence erupted, the East India Company Army was collected here for the final drive towards Delhi. It was here that the famous Club Sandwich was ‘invented’ or probably came about to rapidly feed almost 50,000 soldiers from field kitchens. Ultimately, the sandwich was named after the Lahore Gymkhana Club. The extension of the tomb of Qasim Khan to better serve the changed needs was designed by Honoria Lawrence, the wife of Lord Lawrence, after whom the garden was eventually named.

Amazingly, the people of the old walled city of Lahore still call it Company Bagh. But it was officially named Lawrence Gardens, where in 1862 a beautiful hall was constructed and named after Lawrence. As was to be expected, the main gate facing The Mall was named Victoria Gate, while the gate facing Lawrence Road was named Rivaz Gate, and the gate facing Racecourse Road was named Montgomery Gate.

Later in 1866 a second hall was built next to the first and named Montgomery Hall, which is today a library. The British, naturally, had to assert their ‘culture’ of playing cricket, and so in 1880 came about the Lahore Gymkhana Cricket Club, with a beautiful ground and surrounded by tall trees around it. If anything it resembles the Worcester cricket ground, and till this day is Lahore’s finest. The British oak wood pavilion stands out, and today it also houses a Cricket Museum.

The southern portion of the garden, which till then were agricultural fields, was acquired and so started an effort to build Lahore’s famous Botanical Garden, designed more like Kew Gardens of London. According to documents the very first tree planted there was in January 1862. Then in collaboration with Kew Gardens and the University of Cambridge’s legendary botanical garden, plants from all over the world were brought here. The record tells us that by 1976 this garden had 80,000 trees of almost every known variety, as also 600 species from all over the world. A few can still be identified as having been contributed by Charles Darwin.

The British brought in trees and plants from every corner of British India, from Austria, from Palestine and Syria, from the European continent, especially from its southern coast. As the British expanded they brought in grapes and mulberry plants from Kabul, peaches from Agra. As Punjab’s educational landscape acquired a more formal shape the garden was handed over in 1904 to the Department of Agriculture.

However, the western portion where Lal Mela Ram had donated his land for the zoological garden (the Lahore Zoo), in between on a seven-acre strip, in 1912 the Government College Lahore started its own amazing Botanical Garden under Prof. Dr. Shiv Ram Kashyap, who was encouraged by his tutors at Cambridge. But the most interesting development was when the GC Botanical Gardens started growing indigenous fruit plants and trees and very soon Lawrence Garden allegedly had almost every known tree and plant variety.

This set off a trend to selling tree plants to raise money for the garden, and given 1947 this trend acquired a new speed. Soon, as the record tells us, a number of rare plants were lost, and the once fabled garden began to decline. With the coming of Pakistan and a new culture based on piety and an inward looking psychology, the garden was renamed Bagh-e-Jinnah. So from Company to Lawrence to Jinnah. But then we have eight Iqbal Avenues, and 10 Jinnah Roads in Lahore, what to speak of scores of similar lanes and streets. At other places bizarre names which have nothing to do with our culture and country stand out.

Recently, with a friend who was my ‘fruit raids’ companion, we went over the garden. It took over two hours as we went over our memories. The gardeners told us that the ‘jamman’ trees no longer give the fruit levels that once was normal. The mango output has also fallen. They then report, and I have no proof to verify such a claim, that still officials are selling off rare plants without replacing them. This definitely has to stop if we are to have a world-class tradition.

In the GC botanical section two new greenhouses have come about. This is thanks to the last VC Dr Hasan Shah, who encouraged the Kashyap Botanical Society to modernise and through tissue culture propagate more trees for both gardens. This has been a great success. But then humans have a habit of either excelling or then destroying great traditions. Of recent one learns that plants from the greenhouses are being sold to the ‘powerful’.

We also learn that in the main garden a few rare trees have been felled. The small hillock, which we loved to call ‘Romantic Hill’ remains the same neglected ‘beauty’, with narrow tracks running in every directions. These days the bearded pious carry out raids. Imagine. There is so much to be done, and our political-bureaucratic rulers are least bothered. It reminds me of the Punjab Archives rotting away with urine flowing from a nearby bathroom through them. It reflects, in a way, the ethical decline of our bureaucracy.

It is the same with the Partition Museum project for which last year the go-ahead was given by the last chief minister. Till last week it had not been approved. In simple words our culture is in the hands of vultures, who just refuse to budge because there is no meat on them. In the meanwhile the academic world watches with interest, baffled by our real literacy reactions.