Here’s the thing about Cubbon Park. For a whole generation that grew up in the ’80s and ’90s, it wasn’t just a park — it was the class picnic you waited for all year, the first theme-park ride you ever sat on, the summer horse ride that felt braver than it looked, and those pushcarts serving ragi ball that no funfair snack has ever quite matched. And of course, the Putani Express chugging under the trees — for many kids, it was the closest thing to magic Bengaluru ever offered.
This chapter in the series takes us back to that place the city holds close. Cubbon Park, officially Sri Chamarajendra Park, sits at Bengaluru’s centre and has grown from a 100-acre garden in 1870 to the 300-acre green cathedral we wander through today. Its name changed with the city around it — Meade’s Park at birth, then Cubbon Park, and finally Sri Chamarajendra Park in 1927 — but everyone has always meant the same beloved stretch of green.
And right now might just be the best time to walk through it. The soft pink blossoms have arrived, brightening the avenues and turning even a regular morning stroll into something quietly magical.
Most of us tend to look up at the red High Court, the iconic library, or the old bandstand, but this walk urged us to look closer — at the trees, the quiet giants we usually take for granted. Cubbon Walks, a guided trail run by the Horticulture Department, The Naturalist School and Bangalore Walks, treats the park like a living classroom. Nature guide Suchi Govindarajan began with one grounding fact: the latest tree census counted about 8,800 trees here.
Here, you can walk the same path every weekend and still find something new: a bird call you hadn’t heard before, a tree you’ve passed a hundred times but never really seen. And honestly, this walk barely scratched the surface. Like the Malleswaram trail, it reminds you that Bengaluru still knows how to breathe. All you have to do is step into the green and slow down.
I’ve been walking these paths for ages. But hearing stories from a naturalist’s perspective opens up the park—suddenly every tree and insect has a role
Sagi Krishna Prasad, participant
A tree that literally leans toward the equator. Native to New Caledonia, spotted during Captain Cook’s voyages, and forever tilting like it knows where the sun actually lives.
African tulip treeThose orange blooms from childhood water-squirting battles? They belong to a species so aggressive, it’s one of the world’s most invasive tropical trees. Stunning — with a villain streak.
Banyan (Ficus)Its flower hides inside its fruit, and each species has a single fig-wasp partner. A hidden, world-size love story unfolds in every fig.
GulmoharBefore becoming the unofficial emblem of Indian summers, it hailed from Madagascar. The first arrived in 1800s Bombay — and the rest is blazing orange-red history.
Akasha mallige (Jasmine)Smells unreal, looks delicate, and turns into a tiny trumpet when plucked. Nature’s most charming party trick.
Peepal (Ficus religiosa)The Buddha’s enlightenment tree. Its Sri Lankan descendant, planted in 236 BCE, is still alive — a species with the longest continuous spiritual lineage on Earth.
Tabebuia RoseaEvery spring, Cubbon Park bursts into pink as the Pink Trumpet Trees bloom. Their flowers turn the avenues into a tableau — perfect for a wander.
I’ve lived in Bengaluru for six years. I wanted my son and me to learn the plants and really notice nature here — something we’d been missing
Nanci Mishra, a participant who brought along her young child to the walk
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