Ambari’s translocated trees under courtroom scrutiny — but will they survive?

In the green heart of Guwahati, something has gone missing. It isn’t hard to spot—shadows have shortened, birds no longer sing in certain corners, and the stretch from Ambari to Dighalipukhuri seem somehow…less alive.

The culprit? Not a natural calamity, but a man-made ambition - the GNB Flyover project, whose towering promises have come at the cost of some of the city's oldest, most beloved trees. Translocated, say officials; lost, say the people.

What began as a routine infrastructure expansion has grown into a flashpoint of environmental and civic concern. At the centre of the storm are the 77 mature trees—some decades, if not centuries, old—that were moved from the Ambari-Dighalipukhuri corridor to Lachit Ghat and other areas in recent weeks.

On June 25, the matter reached the Gauhati High Court once again. A fresh PIL filed by journalist Mahesh Deka and activist Joyanta Gogoi questioned not just the fate of the trees but the transparency of the entire translocation exercise.

Not just a tree, an entire ecosystem lost

Acting Chief Justice Lanuchungkum Jamir and Justice Manas Ranjan Pathak directed the Assam government to submit a detailed report on the status of each tree, backed by photographs. The court ordered that no more trees along the Dighalipukhuri banks be touched until further notice.

Assam’s Advocate General Devajit Saikia assured that a report would be filed by Thursday, and that 23 trees near the Assam State Museum would remain untouched. The next hearing is scheduled for June 27.

But behind the legal proceedings is a deeper anxiety—will these translocated trees even survive?

Environmental experts remain unconvinced. “This was a mockery of ecological planning. There was no root preparation, no seasonal alignment. These trees were doomed the moment the earth around them was carved out carelessly,” Dr Dinesh Chandra Goswami had earlier told the press.

Indeed, whispers from within the forest department paint a worrying picture. “Ideally, a tree needs three months of pre-treatment and two seasons of post-care. But here, even the basics—like partial pruning or root-ball care—were ignored. They just dug around ten feet and hoped for the best,” said one official, requesting anonymity.

The procedure, carried out under the cover of darkness on June 2, saw nearly three dozen trees moved from outside Ravindra Bhawan—without public notice, and without environmental clearance made public.

Shade, shelter and stories, cut down without a second thought

The PWD claimed the trees were “shifted”, not felled, and roped in teams from Uttar Pradesh and Uttarakhand to execute the move. But no official plan has been published in any government website and no agency has taken accountability. The incident has left many asking - is this science, or sleight of hand?

Dr Manorama Sharma, a noted environmental advocate, didn’t mince words. “Each tree is a complex system with specific soil, shade, and moisture requirements. Ignoring that is not just bad planning—it’s ecological vandalism. There are CSIR protocols. Why weren’t they followed?” she told the press on June 8.

Adding to the outrage was a chilling tragedy. A pit dug along the Brahmaputra for translocation was left uncovered. It filled with rainwater. A young girl slipped in and drowned. Her body was found two days later on June 19.

“This is criminal negligence. You uproot life and then forget to safeguard the ground? This isn't development. It’s devastation,” said activist Sangita Das.

The state forest department had earlier cited a previous translocation exercise during the six-lane bypass expansion, where 50 trees were shifted. Of these, just over 20 survived. Even there, success was defined by survival, not by thriving. “Just because a tree hasn’t fallen doesn’t mean it’s alive,” a senior official had noted grimly.

Chopped trunks tell the tale of human haste

While a handful of translocations near IIT Guwahati and Rehabari have been hailed as models, those were small, carefully managed efforts. What’s happening now, say experts, is a scramble where environmental due process has become collateral damage.

As the city readies for its next hearing on June 27, many Guwahatians are left wondering - in the rush to build upward, have we forgotten to look around? What legacy are we leaving—shade or scars?

For now, the trees stand still in their new homes at Lachit Ghat, silent witnesses to a battle between concrete and conscience.