SRINAGAR: “If we can protect Dal Lake as a tourist attraction, why can’t we protect Chinars? These trees are just as important to Kashmir’s identity,” questions Sahil Bashir, a local resident, responding to the recent initiative of geo-tagging Chinars.
He sees the move as a step forward but worries it may not be enough to stop their decline.
For centuries, the towering Chinar trees (Platanus orientalis), locally known as Buen or Booyn, have been intrinsic to Kashmir’s cultural and ecological heritage. Their flaming autumn hues have adorned Mughal Gardens, lined Sufi shrines, and shaded village squares.
Yet, despite their historical significance and deep links with Central Asia, these majestic trees are quietly vanishing — felled in the name of development or lost to systemic neglect.
Beyond its cultural and historical importance, the Chinar tree is an ecological marvel. The unique texture of its broad, palmate leaves makes it one of the highest oxygen-releasing and transpiring trees, significantly contributing to the valley’s cooling effect.
Declining number of Chinar trees
For a weary traveller, lying under the vast canopy of a Chinar offers unparalleled relief. When the sun blazes and the air shimmers with heat, it is beneath the Chinar’s dense foliage that a cool breeze flows, providing respite from the scorching summer days.
With the introduction of geo-tagging, authorities hope to monitor better and protect the remaining Chinars. But the pressing question remains: will this digital initiative serve as a genuine conservation effort, or is it just another symbolic gesture in the face of widespread ecological violations?
Historically, Chinars enjoyed a revered status in Kashmir. During the Dogra rule and the early years of post-partition India, felling a Chinar was considered a serious offence. The Jammu and Kashmir Trees (Preservation of Chinar) Act, 1970, mandated official permission before cutting down any Chinar. However, in recent years, enforcement has weakened, allowing unchecked destruction.
According to a 2021 report from Kashmir’s Forest Department, the valley had over 42,000 Chinar trees in the 1970s. By 2005, the number had plummeted to 17,000. Today, fewer than 15,000 remain. While natural ageing and climate change play a role, the greatest threats stem from urban expansion, road widening, and commercial construction projects.
“In the past, even a dead Chinar couldn’t be removed without official clearance,” says an environmentalist from Awantipora. “But now, these trees are being felled without accountability — often to make way for roads, shopping complexes, or official buildings.”
Chinars Felled in the Name of Development
The reckless destruction of Chinars is evident across the valley. One of the most glaring examples occurred in 2012 at Naseem Bagh, Srinagar, home to one of Kashmir’s oldest Chinar groves. Over 100 Chinars were cut down to expand the University of Kashmir campus — justified under the pretext of infrastructure development.
Similarly, in 2021, locals in Baramulla’s Pattan area protested when authorities chopped down several Chinars along the national highway for road widening.
“There is always an alternative way to execute development projects without harming these trees,” argues Tariq Amin, a Baramulla resident. “But decision-makers often choose the easiest option — cutting them down instead of planning around them.”
Real estate expansion has also taken a toll. Several heritage sites once lined with Chinars have seen a sharp decline in their numbers. The once-iconic “tree tunnel” of Srinagar’s Amar Singh College, for instance, was partially lost when authorities cut down Chinars, citing reasons for infrastructure development and safety concerns.
To combat further destruction, authorities have introduced geo-tagging to map and digitally monitor Chinars. Under this initiative, each tree is assigned a unique ID and tracked via satellite imagery. While conservationists welcome the effort, many remain skeptical about its effectiveness.
“The real issue is not the lack of data but the lack of will,” says the Awantipora-based environmentalist. “We already know where the Chinars are. The real question is whether authorities will take action when violations occur.”
Geo-tagging of Chinars is no solution
Experts insist that geo-tagging alone cannot prevent illegal felling unless backed by strict law enforcement and replantation efforts. Planting and nurturing Chinar saplings must go hand in hand with monitoring existing trees. Climate change, too, poses a growing threat — warmer temperatures, erratic rainfall, and pest infestations have impacted the health of Kashmir’s remaining Chinars.
Despite these challenges, some milestones have been achieved. Dr Syed Tariq, Project Coordinator at the Jammu and Kashmir Forest Research Institute, notes that a Chinar in Ganderbal has been identified as the largest in Asia, measuring 22.25 meters in girth and 27 meters in height. Another in Baramulla ranks as the third-largest in the world.
For many Kashmiris, the loss of Chinars is deeply personal. Ghulam Rasool, a 75-year-old resident of Srinagar, remembers a time when the valley’s roads were lined with towering Chinars. “I grew up under their shade. Today, most of them are gone. Future generations will never understand their significance.”
Shabir Ahmad, a young environmental student at the University of Kashmir, emphasizes the need for a broader perspective. “Kashmir must go beyond conservation; we must truly recognize the Chinar’s ecological and cultural role. Protecting them should be a priority, not an afterthought.”
The fate of Kashmir’s Chinars mirrors a larger pattern of environmental neglect. While geo-tagging is a step forward, its success will ultimately depend on the authorities' commitment to enforcement. Without stringent action, these iconic trees may soon be confined to old paintings and postcards — a relic of Kashmir’s past, lost to the unchecked march of urbanization and apathy.
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