By M Atif Ismail
MULTAN, May 04 (APP):Once the silent guardians of South Punjab’s rural and urban landscapes, native trees that stood tall for decades are now vanishing, victims of rapid urbanization, agricultural expansion, and environmental neglect.
Thirty years ago, the region’s villages and towns were dotted with indigenous species like Kikar (Acacia nilotica), Shisham (Dalbergia sissoo), Ber (Ziziphus mauritiana), Toot (Mulberry), Neem, and Bohar (Banyan). These trees not only provided shade, shelter, and sustenance but also formed an essential part of the region’s cultural, spiritual, and ecological identity. Today, their presence has drastically declined, and with them, a vital chapter of South Punjab’s environmental and cultural heritage is fading.
The decline of these trees is not just about biodiversity loss—it represents a cultural erosion. In many rural areas, the Bohar tree was seen as a gathering place. Elders
held community meetings beneath its vast shade, children played on its hanging roots, and travelers found refuge from the desert sun. Neem, known for its medicinal value, was often planted near homes and mosques, while Shisham and Kikar were central to the furniture-making craft that once thrived in cities like Multan and Bahawalpur.
These trees also hosted birds, bees, and a variety of insects that maintained the ecological balance of the region.
So why are these trees disappearing? Experts and locals alike point to multiple factors.
One of the biggest culprits is the aggressive expansion of agriculture. As population pressure increases, fertile lands are being stretched to their limits. Farmers have cleared native trees to plant more crops, often replacing biodiversity with monoculture. Along with this, real estate development and urban sprawl have consumed village outskirts and canal banks where these trees once flourished. Even public infrastructure projects like roads and housing colonies have paid little regard to native vegetation.
Climate change has also played a role. Rising temperatures, unpredictable rainfall, and water scarcity have created unfavorable conditions for the growth of certain trees. Shisham, once a dominant species, has suffered heavily due to fungal diseases like dieback, which flourish in weakened ecosystems. The lack of research into disease-resistant varieties has further deepened the crisis.
In some cases, local people have also contributed to the loss. Trees are often cut for firewood or cleared to make way for modern aesthetics, without understanding their long-term ecological importance. Government reforestation campaigns have largely focused on fast-growing exotic species like Eucalyptus or Conocarpus, which, though green, offer little to native biodiversity.
There is still time to change course—but it requires action. Environmental experts suggest that reintroducing native tree plantations along canals, roadsides, schools, and government offices can help restore ecological balance. Creating awareness among schoolchildren about the cultural and medicinal importance of indigenous trees can foster a sense of ownership in the younger generation. Community-based tree adoption programs and incentives for farmers to maintain old trees on their land can also make a difference.
Moreover, tree nurseries focusing on native species must be supported, and research into
pest-resistant and climate-resilient variants of trees like Shisham and Neem should be prioritized by agricultural universities and forest departments. Legislation that protects old trees from being cut down without review could prevent further loss.
According to Forest Department sources, tree plantations are underway on government land under the Plant for Pakistan project, with around 736 saplings planted per acre. However, local farmers show little interest due to lack of short-term benefits. Water scarcity further hampers survival of new plants, especially in remote areas with limited irrigation. A major concern is the fungal dieback disease affecting Shisham, a key native species. Experts stress the need for involving local communities, offering incentives, and introducing water-efficient native species.
Without these steps, plantation efforts may not succeed, and South Punjab’s rich tree heritage could vanish entirely in the face of urbanization and environmental neglect.
The trees of South Punjab are more than just part of the scenery—they are living memories of how communities lived in harmony with nature. Their loss is a warning bell, but also a call to preserve what remains. If we fail to act now, future generations may never know the shade under a Bohar tree or the scent of a fresh Neem leaf crushed between their fingers. It is not only about saving trees—it is about saving the soul of South Punjab.
