The poem begins by recalling the noble traditions of ancient times. Compassionate rulers (such as Emperor Ashoka) understood the harsh tropical heat of the Indian plains and ordered shady banyans, pipals, and tamarinds planted along every highway:
'I saw a man who cut down a tree / That took a hundred years to grow...'
For generations, these grand trees offered leafy canopy, cool breezes, oxygen, and safe nesting branches to weary bullock cart drivers, pilgrims, birds, and wanderers.