Belagavi’s iconic Club Road—recently approved for renaming in honour of veteran politician and former MP B. Shankaranand—has found itself at the centre of an unexpected debate. Not over the renaming, but over the needless cutting of a decades-old tree to install his statue.
Residents, walkers, and environmental enthusiasts are asking the same blunt question: Why should an old tree be sacrificed for a statue when ample open space already exists at the chosen spot?
While no one opposes honouring late Shri Shankaranand—whose long political career and public service are well-documented—citizens are deeply disturbed by the mindset that made tree-cutting the first solution instead of the last.
People at the site point out that the statue would have looked even more graceful under the shade of the mature tree, a natural canopy that has stood on Club Road for generations. Instead, planners and administrators chose the quickest, most destructive path—wielding an axe where thoughtful design would have easily sufficed.
This frustration is not about a single tree. It is about a recurring attitude.
Authorities rarely rush to fix potholes, repair broken footpaths, or ensure pedestrian safety.
But the moment a tree stands in the way of some project—no matter how symbolic or cosmetic—officials are suddenly efficient, present, and eager to act.
Citizens argue that if tradition, respect, and civic pride are the objectives, then preserving the city’s limited greenery should be part of that respect. Simple alternatives existed: trimming a few branches, adjusting the pedestal height, or shifting the alignment slightly. Yet none were considered.
And so, a bitter irony emerges.
If this continues—if every tree is viewed as an obstacle and never an asset—residents say the government may as well cut down every remaining tree in Belagavi and officially convert this once-beloved “hill station of the poor” into a concrete desert.
At least then, future generations will know clearly that this barren land was not lost to nature but to sheer administrative apathy.
The question now lingering in the air is sharp and uncomfortable:
When will our city planners learn that development is not measured by how many trees are cut, but by how many are saved?