You must agree that the architectural essence of Connaught Place lies in its hundreds of solid white columns that gracefully support the colonial-era colonnades of the inner and outer circle. The other important but overlooked aspect of CP’s essence lies in its countless trees. The area was a babool forest before the British destroyed it to make it a commercial district. Here are some of the many, many trees at Connaught Place, simply as a starting point for exploring the jungle that our historic CP continues to be in its own unique style.

A tree in G-Block is miraculously made of peepal and banyan. Plus, it’s super gigantic (see photo on the right). As we get closer, it turns out that what appeared to be a single tree is actually a pair of pypals and banyans standing next to each other (see photo on the left). Every evening, palm reader Sanjay sits under the two trees and waits for customers.

The enormous peephole of the D-Block stands out for its perfect symmetry. Metaphorically speaking, the foliage is as wide as the Nile and as tall as Qutub Minar. It rises high into the air, eclipsing the immediate horizon of the CP. Every evening, vendor Kuldeep sits quietly under the tree with a cloth bag filled with freshly fried samosas, priced at 15 rupees each (a nearby heritage restaurant runs a kiosk facing this tree, selling samosas at 80 rupees each). Often, passionate guitarists sit on the metal benches under the tree and sing Arijit Singh’s hits.

The tall foliage of the N-Block jamun forms a virtual roof over the adjacent subway staircase. Every monsoon, the small square is covered with berries that have fallen from the tree. While the clumps of jamun still attached to the leafy foliage look like purple smears spread across a green canvas.

The trunk of the graceful F-Block pilkhan divides dramatically into a network of long, thick leafy branches.

Each of these branches, in turn, divides into an even more extensive network of branches, finer but just as leafy. The pilkhan was planted in 2001 by the seller Kesar, who used to sit in its shade all day in all seasons, selling guava slices. She was swept away by the second wave of the coronavirus.