Bangalore University Campus: The Unsung Carbon Sink

Several times a month, I go to Bangalore University’s (BU) Jnanabharathi campus for a morning walk. This 1200-acre patch of relative tranquillity and greenery is just a 15-minute drive from my home. As I enter from the north end, concrete falls away to greenery, thick in parts, sparse in others. The air feels fresh, and the temperature drops by a few degrees.

Over three decades ago, I spent almost every day on this campus pursuing a post-graduate course for two years, but strangely I hadn’t associated it with serenity. But it was only during the pandemic lockdowns, when the campus was shut to traffic but open to pedestrians, that its true value hit home.

But first, a bit about the campus. Though Cubbon Park (300 acres) and Lal Bagh (240 acres) are often hailed as Bangalore’s lungs, the BU campus at around 1,200 acres is more than double their combined area. Yet, its role as a carbon sink goes unnoticed. There are several similar campuses across the city, but few offer unrestricted access to outsiders, as does BU.

Located between Mysore Road and the Nagarabhavi area, the campus has a couple of main (sometimes busy) thoroughfares that connect three neighbourhoods. The rest is a network of sporadic narrow roads and muddy paths, many shaded by thick foliage. The paths enclose swathes of greenery ranging from grassy patches to bushes, scrub, and dense tree cover overgrown with creepers. It is these areas that scores of walkers and joggers, including me, are fond of.

A few hundred metres into the campus gates, the road crosses a bridge under which flows Vrishabhavathy, a small tributary of the Arkavathy (which joins the Kaveri/ Cauvery). Flanked by trees and thick shrubs, the rivulet is a lovely sight during the monsoon when it swells and flows swiftly. At other times, it is a trickle that skirts rocks and boulders and emits an awful stink. At some past point, this water was used for drinking, but uncontrolled effluent and sewage discharge have resulted in the stench. Over the years, efforts to clean it up have failed. Despite the reek, it is common to find birds like egrets and kingfishers in the area.

In 1974, when the land became the BU campus, this was partly reserve forest (scrub forest) and partly revenue land.“It was part of the elephant corridor from Bannerghatta to Savanadurga,” says BU’s Environmental Science head Dr BC Nagaraja. The corridor has long since disappeared with urban growth, but the campus thrived. “About 800 acres are preserved as forest. It was divided into nine sectors depending on topology, drainage, slope, and elevation to enable tree plantation in a phased manner. Seven check dams were built, and rainwater harvesting was undertaken. The idea was to improve the microclimate of the campus,” he says.

Over the years, planting drives introduced species from all kinds of habitats. Former professor of geology TJ Renuka Prasad headed a committee which established a bio-park, which grew from 100 acres in 2001 to about 650 acres by 2014. The initiative meant that the university is a pleasant mish-mash of all kinds of ornamental trees, species from the Western Ghats, medicinal plants, fast disappearing appe midi (a miniature mango variety used in pickling) from Malnad, and even avenue trees, such as tabebuia, gulmohar, and false ashoka, in addition to keystone species.

Nine vanas (mini forests or functional gardens) have also been created. These are Charaka and Sushruta (medicinal plants), Sahyadri (Western Ghats species), fruit garden, keystone garden, ex-situ garden etc. Currently, there are over 5 lakh individual trees of about 300 species (including teak, rosewood, timber-yielding species, acacia etc.). “There is a lot of carbon sequestration happening both in the forest and the soil. It plays a huge role as a carbon sink and lung space for this part of the city,” Dr Nagaraja says.

But not everyone agrees with the way the transformation has occurred. Dr KR Keshava Murthy, taxonomist and biodiversity domain expert, who is also an alumnus of the university’s botany department, appreciates the conservation efforts but is not entirely convinced about introducing plant/tree species from elsewhere. “Planting species from the Western Ghats in a scrub forest is like attempting to alter the habitat. I do not see its necessity or virtue,” he says. But he is also quick to add, “It is gratifying that there are still large patches of scrub forest that are intact. However, a comprehensive survey is imperative to understand what exactly is growing on the campus.”

It’s an opinion that is partly shared. “As an ecological concept, it might not seem right. It is true that the landscape has been altered significantly, and the scrub forest is now a kind of woody forest,” says Dr Nagaraja, but he says there have been efforts to retain at least a third of the area as close to scrub forest as possible. “What is gratifying is that original trees, such as billijaali, karijaali (types of acacia), and sandalwood, haven’t been cut. The landscape hasn’t been altered, and the soil hasn’t been excavated like it has been done in Cubbon Park and Lalbagh. Other species have been integrated into the original habitat. The nature of the trees (evergreen/semi-evergreen) might not be of this region, but the soil hasn’t been disturbed. So it continues to be a natural forest. True, some species have become dominant, while others have been suppressed, and the ecology has been disturbed. But certain patches have been retained as in the original. A major feature of the campus is its large (historical) sandalwood reserve, including red sandalwood. The reserve has been improved,” says Dr Nagaraja, but admits it’s a constant struggle to protect the trees from theft.

Everyone agrees that expanding the diversity of the trees has resulted in a huge increase in the number and types of birds. During the pandemic lockdowns, when vehicles were barred, the campus’s true wealth was on display. Aided by a good monsoon and heavy unseasonal rains, the greenery has flourished even more, and many creatures come out to play.

One cloudy morning in 2022, I saw two peacocks in a clearing near the dry lakebed. Their feathers were spread out in full glory as they competed for a nearby female’s attention. Head bent, she ignored them, nonchalantly pecking away at the ground. They strutted around, rattling their feathers so loudly in the still air that I could hear them 100 metres away. I watched them for 15-20 minutes until they folded up and slunk into the bushes.

That day’s event sharpened my focus on birds, and I began to pay attention to every rustle in the trees. It has been immensely gratifying to have identified (beyond crows, sparrows and mynas) Brahminy kites, Asian koels, greater coucals, racket-tailed drongos, common babblers, white-throated kingfishers, brown-headed barbets, prinias, rose-ringed parakeets, common shrikes, grey wagtails, bulbuls, sunbirds and bee-eaters.

I’ve also seen some geckos and caught a fleeting glimpse of a mongoose, though the campus has several snake species too. Other creatures to spot on campus are millipedes, giant African land snails, and butterflies. Surveys indicate 142 species of butterflies and nearly 150 species of birds have been recorded on the BU campus, making it popular with birders. For me, the creatures are a bonus— the campus’s green serenity is the main allure.

Photo sources: moth caterpillar, peacock royal butterfly