A Homeland for Tentultola
- Independent Ink
- Jul 23
- 5 min read
Updated: Aug 3
Review: Jilipibalar Bondhura. Over 75 years ago, a landless immigrant arriving in the city of Kolkata planted a tamarind tree. Its sprawling branches today host a large number of birds and creatures throughout the year. The film captures not only the lives but a portrait of the community revolving around the tree.
By Shubho Roy
Across all cultures, immigrants and refugees often carry with them seeds of plants and trees from their homeland they are compelled to leave behind. When the fear of losing one’s home, and leaving one’s homeland behind first arises, for many, the initial impulse is to start gathering seeds. Perhaps this bears an import beyond a specific tree or plant: it speaks of something deeper, perhaps tying into one’s bond with their land, the idea of home and identity itself.
Over 75 years ago, freedom fighter Parul Mukherjee, arriving in the city of Calcutta as a landless immigrant, planted a tamarind tree in what is now known as Vidyasagar Colony. For refugees coming in from East Bengal, rehabilitation in the city was a long political struggle for rights and recognition; it was also a cultural struggle for acceptance.
Underneath all of this was a constant struggle for identity, for preserving their sense of self against a crushing set of difficult circumstances.
The act of planting a tree in an unfamiliar land thus becomes part of the long negotiation for inclusion, for rehabilitation. An act of re-rooting oneself in the new land.
The act of planting a tree in an unfamiliar land thus becomes part of the long negotiation for inclusion, for rehabilitation. An act of re-rooting oneself in the new land.
It is both an act of staking a claim to the land, and an act of remembering. The tree carries memories of land, of home, of an entire world that vanished overnight.
The concept of a heritage tree is still not very familiar to us. A heritage tree is considered important due to its age, size, or its botanical, cultural and historical significance.
Now, three quarters of a century later, the old tamarind tree is still there, its branches unfurled, its roots spread in the city soil. The concept of a heritage tree is still not very familiar to us. A heritage tree is considered important due to its age, size, or its botanical, cultural and historical significance. This tamarind tree checks many of the boxes, and then some.
And yet, its days may be numbered, as this tree is standing in the way of construction and real estate ‘development’ in the area. Indeed, over the last few years, a cultural movement has emerged in Kolkata to save this tree.
There have been regular gatherings ‘under the tamarind tree’ (or ‘Tetultola’, as it is known), in the form of small fairs and musical events. Bird-watching sessions, and even bird-counting programmes, have been organized to foster deeper interest in nature.
Filmmaker and cinematographer, Debalina Majumder, has been steadfastly documenting the tree for over a decade, through seasons and changes, capturing its relationship with not just birds and small creatures, but with the neighborhood around it as well. Recently, she and her team managed to condense all this documentary footage into a delightful short film that, though technically a documentary, goes beyond mere documentation.
While the narrative revolves around the tamarind tree, it is just as much a story of community, of relationships, of our interdependence with everything around us.
Watching the film, it becomes evident that the sprawling branches of the tamarind tree today host a large number of birds, insects and small animals throughout the year. One is surprised by the number of species of avifauna documented on its branches (the film lists all the identified species in the end credits).
The tree also invites monkeys, squirrels, lizards, and all kinds of small lives. It is, you realize, a sanctuary unto itself.
The film, Jilipibalar Bondhura (‘Friends of Jilipibala’, 2025), is distinguished by its deft editing and cinematography, effective sound design, and evocative storytelling. Scene by scene, the picture of a complex organic community emerges, a community that involves not just people of all ages, but cats, dogs, monkeys, and all the lives that revolve around the tree.
You realize how much social capital is generated because of a single major flora in the middle of the city. It creates its own stories.
Girls trying to sneak into the property to gather tamarind pods. We see the property owner chasing kids away from the premises. There are women collecting fallen tamarinds from the narrow road beside it. We see glimpses of animals, both wild and domesticated.
Then there is the small child, the eponymous Jilipibala. A large part of her small world is occupied by this tree, and all the lives it hosts.
But as the story progresses, you can sense an approaching crisis: there is a force that wants to destroy all this.
In between lively scenes from the community, you see other trees in the locality being cut; you hear the saws being dragged against the trunks of trees, you hear the rustle of leaves as the trees fall, one by one. A large-scale engineering is taking place, transforming the land and what it means.
Plants and trees add a layer of meaning to the land. We understand and gauge the earth’s responsiveness based on what grows there, and what doesn’t.
Plants and trees add a layer of meaning to the land. We understand and gauge the earth’s responsiveness based on what grows there, and what doesn’t. We track, through a train window, the change in geography by the changing vegetation; the colour of the grass and shape of the leaves change from one region to the next.
We recognize places, even countries, by specific flowers, plants and trees. The flora of a region creates, as it were, a semantic layer on the surface of earth, a network of meanings, a language of its own.
In a way, they mediate our relationship with the soil. Maybe that is why the landless immigrant plants trees – to ensure that the new land speaks the same language as the homeland one has left behind.
When trees are being cut, we are also destroying the semantic fabric of the land; it is as much of a cultural loss as it is an environmental one.
When trees are being cut, we are also destroying the semantic fabric of the land; it is as much of a cultural loss as it is an environmental one.
The film, Jilipibalar Bondhura, being a chronicle of the life and the society revolving around the tree, appears to suggest precisely that. However, it is also a warning for us.
At a small, intimate level, the film is about this bond between a child and an old tamarind tree. But, as every great historical moment is reflected in our small lives, in micro details, one can argue that through these minor everyday moments recorded with intimate precision, the film captures a larger, global crisis we can no longer ignore.
Film: Jilipibalar Bondhura | Language: Bengali | Runtime: 29 Min.
Direction & Cinematography: Debalina Majumder | Editor: Rafina Khatun | Sound Designer: Sabyasachi Pal | Background Score: Megh Banerjee | Vocal & Guitar: Moumita Chakraborty
Images: Copyright Debalina Majumder. All rights reserved.
Shubho Roy is a writer and graphic designer. He recently published his first book, Bhusokalir Naksha (ভুসোকালির নকশা) in Bengali.