My Deepavali prayer each year has been ‘May our land be blessed, may our lives be blessed’. And we have good reason to be charmed by the interplay of biodiversity, ecology and religion, by how religion and culture are inseparably married to India through nature.
Trees in particular have environmental and economic significance, historical importance, religious and mythological relevance and usage in food, medicine, commerce, art, agriculture and cultivation practices.
Our sacred trees include wood apple, jackfruit, neem, red silk-cotton, flame of the forest, Alexandrian laurel, coconut palm, banyan, Indian fig, pipal, mahua, champaka, mango, bullet wood (bakul or maulsari), kadamba, coral jasmine, screwpine, Indian gooseberry, Indian gum, sandalwood, ashoka, sal, trumpet flower, jamun, tamarind, arjuna and ber or jujube.
The association of each tree with gods and temples is fascinating and tells us things we may not know, including which of the 27 nakshatra or lunar asterisms in the Indian zodiac that a tree is associated with.
For instance, the wood apple or bilva is linked to the star Chittirai. which is the 14th nakshatra. The wood apple is usually thought of as belonging to Lord Shiva; many of us have enjoyed bel sherbet in season or offered a sprig of three-leaved bel to Lord Shiva on Mondays and Mahashivratri. Moreover, the wood apple is also closely associated with Goddess Lakshmi.
The ber, according to Punjabi legend, is the ‘sorrow-removing tree’. The jackfruit is the national tree of Sri Lanka and Bangladesh, and the state tree of Kerala and Tamil Nadu.
In my teens, I had to pass by a champaka tree to take the ‘university special’ bus to college. I was haunted long after by the heartbreaking scent of the champaka, its yellow petals like knife blades, its long buds elegantly shaped. Its botanical name is Michelia champaka. A fragment, ill-learnt, of the Ramayana, came up for air: ‘chiribilva madhuka cha vanjula vakula tatha champaka tilaka cha eva nagavriksha cha pushpita’, generally meaning, 'How charming they look, the bilva and madhuka; and the vakula, champaka, tilaka and naga, blossoming’, from Valmiki's Ramayana, Kishkinda Kanda, chapter one.
Also, champakas grew around the cottage in Panchavati by the Godavari, so they were witness to terrible things like Surpanakha's disfigurement, the golden deer, and Sita's abduction.
There is a piquant saying in Hindi about the champaka: “Champa, tujh mein teen hai, roop, rang aur baas/Karan tujh mein kya hai bhanwar na jaaye paas?” “Champa, you have the three qualities of form, colour and scent / Why then do bees never come near you?” This is an unsolved botanical mystery, if true.
I am also fascinated by the Alexandrian laurel. This is because I’ve read it was used by ancient Chola ship-builders to make ships for the navy that Rajendra Chola sent across the Eastern seas over a thousand years ago. Its Sanskrit name is nagchampa and Tamil name is punnaga. It is said to be the beloved of Lord Shiva, like the bel. It seems it is still used for boat-building.
The amla or myrobalan has its own history. I’ve read that ‘half an amla fruit was the final gift from Emperor Ashoka to the Buddhist Sangha’, as an emblem of humility.
Saptaparni is Sanskrit for ‘seven-leaved’. This tree’s leaves grow seven or eight to a sprig. Saptaparni is also a name for girls. Said to be introduced to Delhi as recently as 1940, this tree has an ancient past elsewhere in the land, especially in the annals of Ayurveda. Its bark-extract is said to boost immunity and help treat tummy disorders, malaria and epilepsy.
Out south, it is called ‘seven-leaved’ in Kannada, Tulu, Malayalam and Tamil—paala, paalai and ezh-ilai. I’ve read a theory that Palakkad, celebrated as the ‘granary of Kerala’ and the ‘gateway to Kerala’ from the Western ghats, may have got its name from being covered, once upon a time, by a kaad (forest) of paala trees.
On the eastern seaboard, the saptaparni is the state tree of West Bengal. It’s called chatim in Bengali. Graduating students of Vishvabharati University are ceremonially handed a sprig of saptaparni at convocation. I’m told there’s a story behind this graceful tradition.
Vishvabharati University was originally founded as an alternative Indian school in 1921 by Rabindranath Tagore at Shantiniketan in Birbhum district, West Bengal. But before that, in the 19th century, Shantiniketan was apparently the name given to the only pukka building in a quiet, scenic village called Bhubandanga after Bhuban Mohan Sinha, the zamindar of Raipur.
One day in 1862, Debendranath Tagore, the poet’s father, happened to pass by while on a journey to Raipur. Charmed by the beauty of the village and given to serious spiritual practice, he halted there for some days and spent time meditating in a grove of saptaparni trees.
He felt so light and happy there that he bought himself 20 bighas of land and built a spiritual retreat he named Shantiniketan, where his son eventually set up his school.
Another tree that’s famously called ‘seven-leaved’ is the banana plant. In the Aranya Kand, Sarga 75 of the Ramayana, while in search of Sita, Rama and Lakshmana halt at the lovely Pampa Lake. The trees, plants, flowering bushes and creepers around it listed by Valmiki are still found across India, and some of their names may be found even today as people’s names: Tilaka, Bakula, Mallika, Ashoka, Malati, Kunda, Madhavi, Lata. So, along with matters of faith and geography, we bear our land and culture in our very names.
(Views are personal)
(shebaba09@gmail.com)
Renuka Narayanan