Chandigarh’s Love Affair with Green Spaces: The City’s Garden Culture

Built in the aftermath of Partition, Chandigarh was envisioned as a balm; its clean grids, open spaces, and balanced design were meant to soothe a fractured nation. Today, that vision holds unexpected relevance. As Indian cities grapple with extreme heat, erratic rains, and swelling concrete, Chandigarh’s carefully woven green corridors and thoughtful drainage systems offer something increasingly scarce: urban resilience. Yet, as land prices soar and climate unpredictability grows, the real test lies in protecting this living blueprint from being overwritten.

Planned Roots, Living Greens

Chandigarh weather wasn’t built around its gardens; they were built into it. Conceived in the 1950s by Le Corbusier, the city’s layout gave nature a seat at the table. Green spaces weren’t decorative extras but core to the blueprint, woven through sectors like connective tissue. The city reserved nearly 8.5% of its land for parks and gardens, an urban luxury by today’s standards. From the orderly paths of the Garden of Fragrance to the riot of blooms in Zakir Hussain Rose Garden, each space was meant to be functional, meditative, and accessible. The result? A city where walking through green feels like a daily ritual, not a rare retreat.

But these gardens have morphed with the times. “We had more kitchen gardens back then,” says Sunita Sharma, 41, pointing to a shift from growing food to cultivating lawns. Harjinder Singh, 66, sees it as a generational gap, “Earlier, everyone was involved. Now, only a few of us care for them.” Chandigarh’s gardens may have been born from modernist ideals, but their current shape is deeply personal, shaped by those who still water them, walk through them, and quietly hold on.

Climate Strain and Garden Shifts

Chandigarh’s gardens, once symbols of calm and community, are now facing new demands in the age of climate disruption. Intensifying heatwaves, over 120 recorded across Punjab since 2010, and rising air pollution are pushing these spaces beyond their original purpose. What were once recreational pockets must now act as buffers against environmental stress. “Soot and tar settle on our plants,” shares Sumit Negi, 55. “We rinse it with water, but too much damages the roots.” The act of gardening itself has become more complex, requiring constant adjustments to keep greenery alive.

To counter these changes, the city is shifting its priorities. The Chandigarh Climate Action Plan (SAPCC 2.0) outlines goals for achieving carbon neutrality by 2030, with a focus on solar expansion, electric mobility, heat mitigation, and afforestation. With more than 6,600 rooftops now solar-equipped and electric vehicles accounting for over 15% of new registrations, green infrastructure in India is gradually becoming an integral part of daily life.

Efforts by the Pollution Control Committee have also targeted cleaner construction and stricter dust management. Yet on the ground, these transitions feel uneven. “You can’t find proper organic materials anymore,” says Mr Singh, 66. “We’re left with chemicals.” As these environmental shifts deepen, Chandigarh’s gardens are no longer just legacies; they’re frontline witnesses in a rapidly changing cityscape.

Where the Soil Speaks

In Chandigarh, gardens are more than just urban breathing spaces; they are living extensions of Punjab’s cultural landscape. The earthy scent of homegrown tulsi, the sight of mustard leaves in winter, or even the quiet act of tending to vegetables in a corner plot, all of it reflects a rural consciousness that has found room to grow in the city’s concrete grid. These green pockets, whether manicured or makeshift, carry echoes of village life and a sense of generational memory.

For many residents, the connection is instinctive. “What more could resemble the khet you see in Punjabi films than the gardens here?” says Mrs. Sharma, gesturing to the sprawling front lawns common across Chandigarh. Mr. Singh finds familiarity in his patch of soil: “I grow everything my grandparents used to in the pind, from methi to tomatoes.” These spaces are not only about plants, but rituals.

Mr Negi describes winter evenings spent in the garden around a bonfire, sharing sarson da saag and makki di roti, a tradition that turns his lawn into a seasonal celebration. In a city built on order and planning, these gardens soften the edges, becoming places where memory, food, and soil come together to affirm what it means to belong in Punjab quietly.

Tending to What Remains

Chandigarh’s gardens have always been more than stretches of green; they’re spaces where tradition, care, and memory quietly take root. Today, as climate challenges intensify and daily life becomes increasingly hectic, these spaces are adapting. The shared upkeep once spread across families now often rests with older residents who continue to nurture them with quiet persistence. 

“Now, it’s only our generation that looks after them,” reflects Mr Singh. Yet the essence of these gardens endures. They still offer moments of connection, seasonal rhythms, and a sense of place. Even as their roles shift, they remain woven into the city’s identity, carrying forward a legacy that thrives in the act of being cared for.