Reclaiming a forgotten hero

Within these pages, you find a story of Bengaluru that not many know of, thanks to the city's collective amnesia.

In this critical time when citizens are reprimanded if they protest against road widening, we all need to pause and remember visionaries who contributed not only to the tree wealth of the city but also to urban ecology in general.

A Gardener And A Gentleman by Meera Iyer is an elegant publication. It chronicles the life of H C Javaraya, a long-forgotten local hero. HCJ was an ideal ‘universal man’ in the true sense of a ‘Vishwa Manava’ advocated by Kuvempu. He was among the visionaries of the erstwhile Mysore state, and this book has provided context to the story of the first Indian Superintendent of Lalbagh who pioneered apple cultivation and was especially responsible for fruit cultivation and its distribution on a pan-Indian level.

Within these pages, you find a tale of Bengaluru that not many know of, thanks to the city’s collective amnesia and disregard for nature that gave it its identity. Iyer curates private family albums, paper cuttings, and botanical drawings to construct a portrait and put facts from the family archive into a narrative and positions HCJ on a metaphorical pedestal. The last chapter of Iyer’s book illustrates our common condition with a personal anecdote about the loss of Bengaluru’s green cover.

Worthy successor

Perhaps H C Javaraya’s biggest legacy is the now-disappearing ‘Ganjam Anjeer’ grown in Srirangapatanam, which was imported by Tipu Sultan, and later tended and relished by the Mysore royalty for its uniqueness. This fig was also acknowledged by HCJ’s mentor and friend, Diwan Mirza Ismail. HCJ had added to Lalbagh’s edifices like the indigenous extension of the famed Glass House, and the resurrected and repurposed lamp-shaped guard house at the West Gate, among other improvements like adding a waterfall.

The efforts of Javaraya’s grandchildren have made this biography a reality. The information on the subject is limited and the author had to rely on family archives stored in an elusive black suitcase in the custody of Harish Padmanabha, who is a connoisseur of art, the keeper of the family archive and a true blue Bengalurean.

I have often despaired at the lack of public acknowledgement of H C Javaraya, and the lethargy of the officials in showcasing his contributions to the public. The only tokenism of the Department of Horticulture was naming a circle outside the main gate of the Lalbagh Botanical Garden after him as the Javaraya Circle. Incidentally, this name board, cast in cement, was repainted by the family at their own cost! This says a lot about the apathy of the state in recognising a significant historical figure connected to the pioneering efforts of the department. This book adds to the literature on Bengaluru and its makers and uncovers the modern history of a city that needs to have an accessible archive.

The research by the author is meticulous and goes a long way in preserving and restoring the fragile memory of whatever remains of a city ridden with memory and loss.

The foreword by Chiranjeev Singh quotes me from my book titled ‘Bangalore’s Lalbagh: A Chronicle Of The Garden And The City’. Avenue planting was explored and mastered and Bengaluru was recognised for the sheer variety of species that have now become part of the city’s urban heritage. The contribution of H C Javaraya is significant in many ways. His work ethic, meticulousness and aesthetic eye made him a much sought-after expert in the field of landscape and horticulture.

A worthy successor to the German horticulturist G H Krumbiegal, this book seals HCJ’s legacy. If only we could all come together to plant a Ganjam fig tree in his memory — we owe it to HCJ and this is a tribute he would dearly love.