Gulmohar: India
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History
Madhulika Liddle, May 6, 2024: The Indian Express
This is the time of year when Delhi’s Gulmohar Park truly lives up to its name. In fact, pretty much most of Delhi turns into gulmohar park: all across, the flaming red canopies of gulmohar trees become the signature of early summer.
Not that this very familiar tree is a native of Delhi. The Delonix regia, to give it its scientific name, is a native of Madagascar, and despite the fact that it is now widely distributed across the tropics and subtropics, it was not known outside of Madagascar till about 200 years ago. Sometime in the early 1820s, the Czech naturalist and botanist Wenzel Bojer discovered the tree while on an expedition to Madagascar; he brought it to Mauritius (where he had his headquarters) and from here, it spread across Africa, the Caribbean, South America and large parts of Asia. In India, it is believed to have arrived around the 1840s. Bombay, or more precisely the suburb of Sewri, may have been the first home for the tree.
Given its fairly recent provenance in India, one would not expect the gulmohar to have the same sort of presence in folk wisdom, myth and folk medicine as more established native species. The palash, the banyan, the neem, the peepal: these are the heavyweights, with tons of lore surrounding them, every part revered or used. The gulmohar, by contrast, is an upstart, the new kid on the block.
But its presence is undeniable. Across much of the plains, this is a common tree, its Hindi name possibly a corruption of gul (flower) and mor (peacock), an ode to its flamboyance. In much of the English-speaking world, Delonix regia is called the flamboyant tree, or the flame tree. The other name for it is royal poinciana, a name derived from that of a French nobleman, Phillippe de Longvilliers de Poincy, who was instrumental in having the tree planted at his estate in St Kitts (West Indies), where he was the governor. It’s hardly a surprise that St Kitts and Nevis has the gulmohar as its national tree.
For Kerala’s Christian community, this special tree is linked to the basis of their faith. It is named kaalvarippoo or Calvary flower. The story goes that a gulmohar tree was in bloom on the Mount of Calvary when Jesus Christ was crucified. The blood of Christ splashed on the flowers, stained them forever red. In Bengal, the tree is called the krishnachura, Krishna’s crown, another nod to a deity. Krishnachura is also applied to a similar-looking flower —the shrub known as dwarf poinciana or peacock flower.
When New Delhi was being designed by Edwin Lutyens and his team, a list of trees, both indigenous and imported, was drawn up for planting around the city. The gulmohar is conspicuous on that list by its absence. Not on the ground, fortunately. In the century since New Delhi was designed and its first trees planted, the gulmohar has become common here. It’s there in parks and along roads.
The gulmohar is by no means the sort of tree most often regarded as ‘desirable’. Its branches are fragile and apt to break off in storms. Its many tiny leaves, when shed, create a mess that’s difficult to get rid of. The medicinal qualities of the tree, though many, are none of the kind that can be easily utilised by just about anyone. Its fruit and flowers are not just inedible but toxic. But with its shade and the breathtaking beauty of its flowers, it makes summer that bit more bearable. Sarojini Naidu, in her poem In Praise of Gulmohur Blossoms, had compared their colour to the ‘glimmering red of a bridal robe’ and ‘the rich red of a wild bird’s wing’. It’s all of that, and more. It’s the colour of early summer in Delhi.
