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By:

Minal Sancheti

2 May 2026 at 12:26:53 pm

BMC under fire over tree cutting plan

Mumbai: On May 29, the BMC decided to cut 1900 trees for Versova-Bhayandar Link Road. The decision saw a massive uproar by the opposition as well as the environmentalists concerned about the city’s rising temperature and unpredictable climate. The BMC has claimed that Mumbai’s civilisation is growing rapidly, and to keep up the pace, the city needs more roadways. This is important as current infrastructure is lacking capacity to handle the traffic. “To create this infrastructure, we will have...

BMC under fire over tree cutting plan

Mumbai: On May 29, the BMC decided to cut 1900 trees for Versova-Bhayandar Link Road. The decision saw a massive uproar by the opposition as well as the environmentalists concerned about the city’s rising temperature and unpredictable climate. The BMC has claimed that Mumbai’s civilisation is growing rapidly, and to keep up the pace, the city needs more roadways. This is important as current infrastructure is lacking capacity to handle the traffic. “To create this infrastructure, we will have to cut 1900 trees. We will replant 700 trees, and 1200 trees will be cut,” said Ganesh Khankar, the BJP group leader in the BMC. “We will plant 3000 plants in Panvel. We are also planning to implement the rule to plant at least one tree in the 45000 housing societies of Mumbai.” Bansari Kothari, an environmentalist, claimed that this infrastructure may not be the best plan for the city. “The trees that will be compensated will be in Panvel. But the trees will be cut between Versova and Bhayandar. So the citizens of Versova and Bhayandar will lose their tree cover. Thus, it does not give proper justification. For the development of the coastal road that benefits only two to three percent of the population, we cannot cut trees that benefit 100 percent of the population,” she said. The environmentalists have claimed that these trees are precious and invaluable. The age of some of these trees is 35 and 60 years and more. The authorities have promised to plant 3000 trees in Panvel, but these are just small saplings and will take at least 25 to 30 years to grow and become a tree. Former mayor and opposition leader Kishori Pednekar said development is important but not at the cost of the environment. “Mumbai will become a desert. How will they stop that? Development is important but not by destroying nature. Development is necessary. We need metros and monorails but not at the cost of the environment,” she said. Environmentalist Stalin D, president of an NGO Vanashakti, warned that the consequence of cutting trees at this rate can create many problems for the citizens of Mumbai. “India will be badly affected by the climate crisis; despite that, if we don’t take action, then it will be too late. They are planning to make the city like Dubai. The same heat in the afternoon where nobody can get out of the house. Everything is barren. People dying for water.”

The Soul of Bharat on the Big Screen

Mumbai: April 4, 2025, my heart feels heavier than it ever has. The news hit me like a monsoon storm—Manoj Kumar, the towering legend of Bollywood, the man who painted patriotism across our screens, is no more. At 87, he slipped away at Mumbai’s Kokilaben Dhirubhai Ambani Hospital, leaving behind a reel of memories that flicker in my mind like a projector that won’t stop spinning. As a movie fan who grew up with his films, I’m not just mourning an actor—I’m grieving the loss of a piece of my soul, a piece of India itself. They called him "Bharat Kumar," and oh, how he earned that name.


I remember the first time I saw ‘Upkar’ (1967). I was a kid, sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to our old TV. Manoj ji played Bharat, the farmer who gave everything—his dreams, his love—for his country’s soil. That song, “Mere Desh Ki Dharti,” wasn’t just a tune; it was a heartbeat, pulsing with pride and sacrifice. I’d hum it walking to school, feeling like I, too, could be that noble, that selfless. He won a National Film Award for that one, and rightly so—it wasn’t acting; it was living.

Then there was ‘Shaheed’ (1965), where he brought Bhagat Singh back to life. I’d sit there, popcorn forgotten, as he roared defiance against the British, his eyes blazing with a fire that could’ve lit up the darkest colonial night. It wasn’t just a film—it was a revolution on celluloid, a call to remember the blood that bought our freedom. Manoj ji didn’t just play the martyr; he became him, and every time I watch it, I feel that lump in my throat, that sting in my eyes. It’s no wonder it snagged three National Awards—his passion was a gift to us all.


Oh, and ‘Purab Aur Paschim’ (1970)—how do I even begin? He directed and starred as Bharat again, this time wrestling with the clash of East and West, showing us the beauty of our roots while the world tried to pull us away. I’d laugh at Saira Banu’s antics, then choke up when Manoj ji stood tall, singing “Hai Preet Jahan Ki Reet Sada.” It was a blockbuster, sure, but it was more—it was a love letter to India, penned in his signature hand-over-face style. That move, mocked by some, was his shield, his quiet strength, and I adored it.

And who could forget ‘Roti Kapda Aur Makaan’ (1974)? He directed and starred as Bharat—again, because who else could?—tackling poverty, injustice, and the gut-wrenching struggle for the basics of life. I’d watch, fists clenched, as he fought for the everyman, his voice cracking with raw emotion. It wasn’t just a movie; it was a mirror to our society, a cry for change. Seven Filmfare Awards across his career, they say, but this one felt like it carried them all—his heart bled through every frame.


Then there’s ‘Kranti’ (1981), the epic that had me on the edge of my seat. Manoj ji as the freedom fighter, leading Dilip Kumar and Hema Malini through a storm of rebellion—it was grand, it was gritty, it was everything Bollywood could be. “Zindagi Ki Na Toote Ladi” still echoes in my ears, a reminder of the battles he fought on screen, battles that felt so real I’d dream of joining the fight. He didn’t just direct that film; he sculpted a monument to resilience, and I’d cheer like a fool every time he outsmarted the British.


As I sit here, flipping through these memories, I can’t help but feel cheated. Manoj Kumar wasn’t just an actor or director—he was family. Born Harikrishan Goswami in 1937, he carried the Partition’s scars from Abbottabad to Delhi, turning pain into purpose. He gave us over 50 films in a career spanning four decades, snagging the Padma Shri in 1992 and the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2015—honors that felt too small for a man who gave India its cinematic soul. His last role in ‘Jai Hind’ (1999) might’ve flopped, but it didn’t dim his light in my eyes.


I’d read how he met Bhagat Singh’s mother before ‘Shaheed’, seeking her blessing—can you imagine the weight of that? Or how PM Lal Bahadur Shastri urged him to make ‘Upkar’ after the 1965 war, handing him “Jai Jawan Jai Kisan” like a sacred torch? That’s who he was—a man who didn’t just entertain but carried a nation’s dreams.


Manoj ji, you weren’t just “Bharat Kumar” to me—you were the uncle who taught me pride, the friend who shared my anger, the poet who sang my hopes. Your films weren’t movies; they were my childhood, my rebellion, my tears. I’ll miss you like I miss the India you dreamed of—flawed, fierce, and forever ours. Rest in peace, sir. Om Shanti.

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