She had no children of her own, so she planted thousands of trees — and called every one of them her child. On her death anniversary, the Chief Minister's Office of Karnataka paid a heartfelt tribute to Salumarada Thimmakka, the Padma Shri-winning environmentalist whose bare hands and unshakeable resolve transformed a dusty highway stretch into a living, breathing corridor of green.

The post, shared in Kannada, described Thimmakka as Vriksha Mata — 'Mother of Trees' — and honoured her as a model of environmental love and selfless service. 'She who loved trees like her own children, nurtured them, and wrote the prologue to a green revolution,' the tribute read, adding that 'her ideals are an eternal inspiration to all of us.'

A 4-km stretch that became a national symbol

Thimmakka's story begins in the 1950s in Ramanagara district, Karnataka, where she and her late husband Bikkalu Chikkayya began planting banyan saplings along the 4-kilometre highway between Hulikal and Kudur — carrying water on foot to nurse each one. Over decades, that quiet, private act of devotion grew into a canopy of more than 8,000 trees, turning a sun-scorched road into one of the most photographed green corridors in South India.

The scale of what she accomplished without institutional backing, machinery, or funding is what made her story travel far beyond Karnataka. She became a grassroots emblem of what individual persistence can do against environmental degradation — a message that resonates harder today than ever.

Padma Shri in 2019 — recognition six decades in the making

In 2019, the Government of India conferred the Padma Shri — the country's fourth-highest civilian honour — on Thimmakka, formally acknowledging a lifetime of afforestation work that had long been celebrated at the grassroots but had taken decades to reach national officialdom. The recognition arrived late; the work had been going on since India was still finding its post-independence footing.

Karnataka governments have periodically issued public tributes to figures like Thimmakka, whose grassroots environmental work aligns with the state's broader afforestation targets — particularly in drought-prone districts where green cover remains fragile and contested.

Why the tribute matters beyond ceremony

A state government pausing to honour a woman who planted trees with her bare hands is not merely ceremonial. It signals the kind of environmental ethic policymakers want to project — one rooted in community action rather than top-down schemes. Thimmakka's legacy is increasingly invoked in conversations around Vanamahotsava, Karnataka's annual tree-plantation drives, and district-level green awards that draw inspiration from her model.

Her story also carries a quietly radical dimension: a woman from a marginalised background, without formal education, who outlasted bureaucracies, droughts, and indifference to leave behind a forest. That is the kind of legacy no government scheme can replicate — only honour.

The trees she planted still stand. The tribute is the least they deserve.