Mahua Mahotsav

Mahua Purana

After reading my three successive blogs on mahua recipes Jailaxmi R. Vinayak, a friend applauded, tongue-in-cheek, my Mahua Purana! I got her message loud and clear; but why blame the blogger; for it all began with MP Department of Culture inviting me to Mahua Mahotsav, held recently at Bhopal to celebrate the 11^th Foundation Day of the iconic Tribal Museum; and the Mahua laddoos I bought at twenty-five rupees a piece, almost as pricey as Ferrero Rocher, from Mansaram, a Korku tribal from Harda, MP. I was much impressed with Mansaram’s savvy business skill for he also sold me half-a-kilo of dried mahua for fifty rupees though the MSP for a kilo is thirty rupees only. Having spent my good money on mahua, why shouldn’t I write a few pieces on this hardy, drought-proof gift of nature which provides food, drink, fodder, fuel, medicine, timber, and is an icon of tribal culture? Why, I may someday even write a Mahua Mahapurana!

Phagun Puni: Gundi Chhada

The puja platter offered to Mahalakshmi on Phagun Puni (Phalguna Purnima), celebrated in western Odisha as Gundi Chhada, contains a mahul kunji - a stem of mahua with tiny buds which will flower in due course, a stalk of mango blossom with mangoes no bigger than desi chana, a bunch of palsha flowers (Flame of Forest), char - tiny black-berries from a thorny bush in the forest, roasted chana, sakarpatti (a sweet condiment) or a piece of gud. When a child, I wondered why, since only the last three items were edible.

Now I know a little better. Phalguna Purnima is Lakshmi Jayanti, the birthday of Mahalakshmi, the Goddess of plenty and prosperity; Mother Earth is Lakshmi incarnate, and Gundi Chhada is observed as a Thanks-giving-in-advance and to seek her blessings for the bounties of nature - mahua, mango, and other fruits and flowers which nourish and sustain life.

A Sacred Tree

In Bastar and other areas where jhum cultivation is still practised in remote jungles, to clear a field to grow maize or millets the tribals burn down mature teak trees which are of no use to them, but they never harm mahua, mango, or tamarind - trees that gives food.

Why do the tribals never cut down a mahua tree, but worship it? Because Mahua trees save lives. Before the advent of famine relief, rural employment guarantee programme, and free or subsidised distribution of foodgrains, mahua (also mango and other edible forest produce) saved lives as during the calamitous famines of 1866, 1874, and 1897 in the Santal Parganas and other parts of the country. Mahua was food first, and liquor later if there was a bountiful crop.

Revd. J.M. Macphail in his book Santalia (1904) mentions the economic significance of mahua tree for the tribals.

Image: Sambalpuri Handloom Saree Motif - Mahul Benta (Picking Mahua Flowers)

Photo Credit: Susmita Mishra, a friend; Photo edited by the blogger with Microsoft Designer.

Mahua Badnaam Hui…..

Mahua badnaam hui, angrezi tere liye, that's my slogan for the campaign against videshi!. Those traders from a tiny island deliberately vilified mahua and India’s traditional alcoholic beverages, and ruined the indigenous production and distribution system. Foreign Liquor, imported from Britain, where else, became the respectable drink for WOGs, and everything else was despised as desi daru – vile, unhygienic, dangerous, and a threat to public health and morality. Even today, UK is the biggest exporter of alcoholic beverages to India!

India’s authorised retail outlets sell IMFL (Indian Made Foreign Liquor, an oxymoron!), and FL (Foreign Liquor), but not traditional country liquor. Why are alcoholic beverages made in India from raw materials produced in India called ‘Foreign’? To perpetuate the prejudice against indigenous products? Do the videshis own patent for the process of brewing and distillation, used by tribal and forest peoples of India since millennia? How about neera, toddy, and salfi – all tapped from palm trees and brewed for free by the sun; and mahua, handia, feni, chhang, and others distilled in India since ages, long before the Romans brought civilisation to England? UK’s national dish ‘Chicken Tikka Masala’ is an export from India, but do they call it British-Made Indian Chicken Tikka Masala?

Made in India

Why are we not proud, but embarrassed about Products of India. If the Scots go ga-ga for their whisky, the Irish for Guinness Beer, the French for Champagne, the Mexicans for tequila, the Japanese for sake; why are we apologetic about Mahua, Feni, Kesar Kasturi, Toddy, Salfi, and others?

The Bombay Abkari Act, 1878 regulated the production, sale, and consumption of alcoholic beverages, including mahua and other indigenous spirits.  The Mhowra Act, 1892 specifically targeted mahua flowers, prohibited both the distillation of liquor from mahua flowers and the collection of these flowers. As a result, indigenous communities resorted to covert brewing, and the quality of mahua liquor declined during this period.

The British usurped monopoly position for manufacture and trading in salt. They ruined India’s handloom cottage industry, proud supplier of fine silk and cotton to the world till 17^th - 18^th CE, to create opportunity for mill-made cloth from Britain. They vilified India’s indigenous liquors to open the market for imported liquors. For the nation of traders, their business interest was paramount.

Even today, the state governments promote sales of foreign liquor by perpetuating the stigma against India’s traditional alcoholic beverages, since for most states in India, revenue from liquor sales constitutes a significant portion of their overall tax revenue. The total amount collected from state excise by all states in fiscal year 2022 was ₹2,05,363 crore.

And the goons of liquor contractors who run the theka beat up tribals brewing mahua for their personal use - an activity permitted under the law!

Mond, Mohulo, and MAH

Try Mond or Mohulo, made by tribals and promoted by MP government; or Desmond Ji, manufactured by Mr Desmond, an entrepreneur; or MAH, manufactured in France from mahua flowers imported from India under a joint Indo-French initiative by Bastar Cooperative and MAH.

Incidentally, not all videshis condemned mahua. Here is a quote from The Garden of Life by Naveen Patnaik:

‘Those Europeans who persevered and managed to acquire a taste for mahua liquor echoed the judgment made by Forsyth in his book The Highlands of Central India (1871): “The spirit when well made, and mellowed by age, is by no means of despicable quality, resembling in some degree Irish whisky."’

Heritage Liquor

Rajasthan amended its Excise Act in 1998 to promote Kesar Kasturi and other heritage wines. Government of MP enacted Heritage Liquor Act, 2022 to facilitate production of mahua from approved distilleries operated by tribals. MP Tourism serves in its restaurant bars mahua liquor - Mond and Mohulo, manufactured and bottled hygienically by tribals of Alirajpur and Dindori respectively.

Chhattisgarh, Goa, and a few other states have also launched similar promotional regime. This is a welcome development, and will begin a process to restore the lost status of India’s heritage liquors.

MP Government should obtain GI Tag for Mond and Mohulo. Other States may get GI Tags for their heritage liquors

Government of India should file for Patent for the traditional mahua distillation process practised by tribals before MAH of France or any other Company does, like the mischievous failed attempt by a US Company to obtain Patent for the curative properties of haldi (turmeric), a daily-use kitchen spice and one of Grandmother’s Home Remedies for intestinal worms in India.

Mohua Mahotsav as World Tribal Heritage Day

India should host World Tribal Heritage Day to celebrate the life and culture of tribal and forest people. The major tribal states should each pick up an Annual Day (Mahua Mahotsav on Jun 11 in MP, for example), and host an event showcasing their cuisine, craft, song and dance, maybe on the lines of Oktoberfest  in Munich, Germany.  

Heritage liquor may also be showcased without the event being a crass liquor marketing event. Non-tribals of our own country, and tourists would get an opportunity to learn about the life and culture of tribals which have evolved over the millennia by living in harmony with nature.

Dil Jiska Hindustani

Dil jiska Hindustani, nahin koi Englishtani is a memorable phrase from Made in India, Alisha Chinai’s 1995 music video album which became a runaway hit.

Tipplers and wine connoisseurs of India, raise your glasses and say cheers to Mond, Mohulo, Desmond Ji – all Made from Mahua and Made in India. Aaj mahua ki beti se mohabbat kar le; if you still recall jhoom barabar jhoom sharabi, the hit qawwali from Five Rifles, a 1974 film. You may also cheer for Kesar Kasturi, Feni, Salfi, and other heritage liquors of India. Abjure the expensive single-malts, and 12-Year-Old Chivas Regal, the Champagnes, and other imported stuff. Remember the popular burn-vilayati-clothes campaign under the Swadeshi Movement? Instead of enriching alcohol exporting countries, contribute to our own economy.

***

Unique Dessert: Ragi Pudding with Mahua

 

Unique Dessert
by
Chef with a Dash:
Mandia Tikhri with Mahul

 

Readers’ response to my food blogs confirms what I had long suspected: my talents may be better suited to culinary affairs than to creative writing! Whenever I fancy myself as a chef, create a dish, and share my undisguised delight with select readers, those who never bother to even acknowledge my blogs on assorted subjects (myths, epics, nature, travelogue, etc.), not even with an emoji, generously shower praise and offer brief or not-so-brief comments.

After reading my mahua recipes, a reader asked, ‘I thought it makes desi daru; how do you know that mahua flower is edible?’  How could I not know, since I spent my childhood in Khuntpali, a small village in western Odisha where everyone knew all about mahua, nature’s bounty providing food, fodder, and fuel? 

I knew of mahua liqour, toddy, and ganja sold at Shundhi ghar (house), the village bar where the tipplers sat on their haunches in the open courtyard, and of the incorrigible alcoholic Manbodh Seth, a fisherman who had his house in front of ours. After his morning catch, he headed straight for Shundhi ghar while his wife Uma handled the sales, home and hearth, and their many children. When he returned home stone drunk, Parvati berated him for wasting all his income on booze upon which Manbodh showered choicest, unprintable abuses on her, and often resorted to violence. A few others (Kanidhamna's sons Ghasia and Baragulia) also drank daru, mostly on festivals like Puspuni (Pausa Purnima), but there wasn't another like Manbodh, his elder brother and neighbour Purna being a teetotaler.

Mahul, the name for mahua in Sambalpuri/Odia, was gathered, sun-dried, and stored in every home, and while it was mostly used as cattle-feed, every housewife knew how to make chakel, podapitha (for which the village potter made telen- a clay cooking-pot with a thicker gauge and highly polished to ensure the baked podapitha didn't stick to the pot when scooped out), kakra and other delicacies with mahul as a sweet, nutrition supplement, particularly in the lean season. Chandrashekhar Sahu from Nagenpali near Bargarh, and my classmate in George High School recalled that mahul sijha (dried mahul boiled with a little gud) was easy to make and a popular delicacy.

Our village home was filled with the sweet fragrance of mahua flowers during March to June, the floral notes changing with the various stages of processing – fresh, pale-yellow, soft flowers to semi-dried to fully-dried. The fruits (tol or tori) arrived during Jun-Jul, heaped in a corner of the open courtyard, seeds separated from the outer cover, broken  one by one with a piece of stone by a little group of women and children, after which the inner shells were ready to go to the teli who would cold-press it with his traditional wooden ghana or oil-expeller moved by a bullock or a pair.

Mandia Tikhri

Yesterday, on my request Sanjukta made mandia[i] tikhri (that’s the name in Sambalpuri/Odia); you may call it ragi pudding, though it is more a soft, flat cake than a pudding. I was not sure she’d like my idea of a fusion dessert, so I kept it to myself, and when she was finishing the dish after sweating for more than thirty minutes in the kitchen (no AC there!), I requested her to lend me a portion for my unique dessert: Mandia Tikhri with Mahul. No longer surprised with my crazy inspirations, she hid her frown well while ladling out a portion on a flat bone-china plate on which I had put a bed of moist mahua flowers, which now lay buried under the hot thick tikhri and would be cooked just right while cooling. After cooling, I put it in the fridge, and after a few hours cut slices and plated.

Here's what I got:

 

                        Front-view


              Back-view, after flipping

Plating (Chef needs to improve his skill!)

Serving Idea (Can be more artfully served!)

Sanjukta’s Recipe

I have never made mandia tikhri myself since Sanjukta makes it so very well, and generally prohibits me from entering her kitchen. On my request, she shared the recipe. Next time, I can make it on my own, I guess.

Ingredients

·      Mandia (Ragi) powder – 200 gm

·      Milk – 1 ltr

·      Gud – 100 to 200 gms, as per preference

·      Assorted dry fruits – cashew, pista, kismis – 100 gm

·      Elaichi powder – A tea-spoonful or less

Process

·      Soak mandia powder in 2 cups of water for 4 to 5 hrs and then drain the excess water

·      Boil the milk, add gud, let the gud mix well with no lumps left

·      Put flame to medium

·      Add ragi slowly, and keep stirring to make sure no lumps form at the base

·      Cook for 20 to 25 mins, keep stirring

·      Add dry fruits and cook for 10 mins, still stirring.

·      Add elaichi powder

·      Once the mix is thick (not too thick) and easy to pour onto a plate, it is ready

·      Grease with a little ghee a steel plate with rim, or a glass bowl to have the pudding about half-inch thick

·      Pour the tikhri or spread it evenly with the ladle

·      Allow it to cool

·      Put it in the fridge (not deep-fridger!) for 2 hrs

·      Cut it in squares, rounds, triangles, or strips as per your plating and serving preference.

·      Best served a little chilled. Even at room temperature, it’s fine.

·      Stays good in the fridge for 2-3 days; you may cut it into pieces and store it in a glass or plastic box.

·      Enjoy!

Note (in case you’re lactose intolerant, and prefer a healthy, lightly sweet pudding): Mandia Tikhri, often made without milk and dry fruits, also tastes great, and looks better – a shining rich brown – bringing out the natural hues of ragi and gud. Visually more appealing, in my view.

Postscript

Jun 21, 2024: Today, I noted that Microsoft Copilot offers a 'Cooking Assistant'. Curious, I asked it about the dishes I can make with mahua.

It suggested Mahua Podapitha (along with recipe), and a few other interesting dishes.

Impressive!

From Dear Readers

G.Subbu

A friend, and an inveterate limericist shared these two delicacies:

Limerick 1

Prasanna's experimented with Mahul ,

The Odisha phool which is cool ,

His friends who are "high" and mighty ,

Especially when they are thirsty ,

Prefer the desi Mahua in a glassful !

Limerick 2

After pottering around in the kitchen for days - three ,

Prasanna has now become an expert in cookery ,

Started off with a salad ,

Now, a dessert has been crafted ,

Relieved , guys at the main course said - Thanks for letting us free !

Thanks, Dear Subbu.

Sangeeta Verma, a friend.

"Responding with more than an emoji! In the good old days before refrigerators what did they do to chill the mandia tikhri?

And Chef did not tell us what his family thought of his innovative dish?"

My Reply:

Q1 - No need to chill. Enjoyable at room temp.

Q2 - Spouse is the only family I got at Bhopal. She has not posted any comments. You're free to draw your own conclusions! Children are too busy to read my blogs!

Mita, a friend from Sambalpur

The recepie is very interesting. We are getting tol in the market now a days with which we make tawa fry. Very tasty!

Jayalaxmi R.Vinayak, a friend

"My mom -in- law used to make a similar delicacy which we called Ragi Payasam.

Your Mahua puran reminded me of Amitav Ghosh's Sea of Poppies!"

---

[i] Ragi (Eleusine coracana) is also known as finger millet. Here are its names in various Indian languages: Sambalpuri/Odia- Mandia, Sanskrit- Ragidhanyam, Kannada- Ragi, Telugu- Ragula, Tamil- Kezhvaragu, Hindi/Urdu- Nachani or Mundua, Marathi- Nachni, Gujarati- Mandika, Bengali/Nepali- Marwa.

It is a nutritious grain widely used in traditional Indian cuisine; rich in calcium, iron, and dietary fibre, making it a valuable addition to our diets.

 

 

Icecream with Mango and Mahua

This is a sequel to my previous blog: Salad for Spouse (Link: https://pkdash-author.blogspot.com/2024/06/salad-for-spouse.html

Several readers got most of the ingredients right, but no one got it all. I had put up a googly; that was a little unfair; since two ingredients could not be seen and one rather difficult to recognise!

A few readers recalled a salad I had made several months ago. This one looks rather like that, a reader observed. No, that was a guava salad!

This one is indeed Unique!

How is this salad unique? It is the only salad till date with Mahua flower as an ingredient! Chef with a Dash invented and served this Unique Salad on 14 June 2024 to Dear Spouse on Day 1 of the three-day Raja Festival of Odisha.

He asserts his IPR for this invention!

Ingredients: For serving Two

·      Potatoes- 1 medium-size

·      Tomatoes- 1

·      Moong sprouts- a handful

·      Roasted chana- a few spoonful

·      Mahua flowers- 15-20

·      Olive Oil- a small spoonful

·      Raw mango- 1 quarters of a small mango

·      A small piece of jaggery

·      Garlic – 6 cloves, peeled

·      Ginger – a small piece

·      Red chili powder – a small spoonful

·      Green chili – one, chopped fine; another sliced in length

·      Mint leaves

·      Optional additions (I didn’t use any of these.): Roasted peanuts, pomegranate, chopped onion, Chat masala, lemon, mustard oil in place of olive oil for a tang and a zing

Recipe

·      Boil (not overcook) the potatoes, dice to cubes

·      Tomatoes – dice to cubes

·      Mahua flowers – soak the dried flowers in water for 2 hours and clean it properly; the flowers would be tender and fluffy

·      Make a raw mango chutney - two or three pieces of raw mango, a spoon of jeera, one green chili, a piece of jaggery, and a bunch of coriander leaves

·      In a salad bowl, put the potato and tomato cubes, moong sprouts, roasted chana, mahua flowers, crushed garlic and ginger, add a spoonful of virgin olive oil, red chili powder, minced green chili, mango chutney, salt to taste.

·      Toss gently. Vigorous tossing would crush and dismember the mahua flowers!

·      Put bowl in freezer for 10 mins

·      Plating: Serve the salad, heaping it with a spoon, and garnish the top with a few whole mahua flowers, pudina leaves, and the green chili diced at length.

·      Enjoy!

Note: The salad is nutritious, healthy, and sumptuous. Can be eaten with meals or as a snack. All ingredients are readily available, except for mahua flowers.

No processed item used, but for olive oil even without which the salad would taste fine. Next time I make this salad, I’ll try with mustard oil. That’d give a zing, and make my salad totally local.

Salad dressing is a freshly-made raw mango chutney; in other seasons, aam chur or tamarind pulp may be used.

Next when I make this salad, I'd toss a few spoonfuls of roasted seeds (pumpkin, watermelon, sunflower, chia, flax, sesame, soynuts). Easily available, a Ready-to-Eat Snack, a 7-In-1-Mix. That'd make it a Designer Salad!

Mahua Flowers

Where to buy? Not available easily. I bought half a kilo for fifty rupees from Mansaram, a Korku tribal from Harda, MP who offered from his food stall at the recently concluded Mahua Mahotsav, Tribal Museum, Bhopal tribal cuisine including mahua laddoo, mahua puri paired with a local saag, bajre ki kheer.

A word of caution. Since mahua flowers are picked up from the ground, the dried flowers are likely to have a little soil sticking to it, and must be cleaned before using it for edible purpose. That’s not difficult. Just soak it in water for a few hours and rinse well. Now, it’s good to use.

Mahua Cuisine

With the mahua bought from Mansaram, I have made mahua parathas, pairing it with tender green jute leaf curry from my terrace garden. Mahua-garnished salad, of course.

Here is a dessert I made today.

Dessert Creation by Chef with a Dash!* 

Amul Butterscotch ice-cream served with a slice of mango, and a few soaked-to-soft mahua flowers. There was a power-cut in our area, and the ice-cream is a little runny; but the pairing was great.

On my request, Shiba Narayan Rana, a dear friend has sent from Odisha a packet of dried mahua flowers, the produce of his own mahua trees. I plan to make a few more dishes with mahua – chakel or chakuli – thin and crispy pancakes made with rice, black gram, and mahua flower batter; poda-pitha with the same batter; laddoo with alsi and/or til seed.

The easiest to do is this: Take a handful of dried mahua flowers, toss it on a non-stick pan, roast for 2 to 3 mins on low flame. It’s a tender flower, take care, don’t char it.

That’s it, enjoy once it cools.

Colours of Mahua

For those not familiar with mahua, here are a few photos:

Freshly-gathered pale-yellow corolla of mahua flowers.

 

Dried mahua flowers bought from Mansaram.

Mahua flowers after soaking and rinsing.

***

*My Dessert creation might have been inspired by a young chef- Prateek Sadhu's use of mahua flowers to garnish dessert serving in his Mumbai restaurant 'Masque'.

Anshu Vaish, an esteemed reader shared this: 

"Years ago, I ate  strawberry custard with mahua flowers - served at a dinner hosted by BMS Rathore and his wife at their home. Delicious dessert!"

 

Salad for Spouse

Did you read today’s Dainik Bhaskar? She asked.

Not yet, anything important?

DB now files stories on Odisha.

About the officer blamed for Naveen Patnaik’s defeat?

No, today’s story is about Raja festival.

I read the story. Raja (two short vowels, unlike two long ones as in Raja, meaning king) is a unique festival of eastern Odisha. There may be similar festivals in other parts of India, but I am not aware of it.

At the onset of monsoon, Mother Earth is believed to be Rajaswala, and her three-day period is celebrated by putting all women regardless of age on a pedestal, as it were, and giving them a good time. They are prohibited from cooking, a thoughtful respite from the never-ending grind of cooking three meals a day for the family; or even helping with chopping vegetables or seasoning the dal. Men do all the cooking, buy new sarees and dress (that’s compulsory) for ladies and girls, and tie swings on trees in the courtyard or in the village common grounds for the women to congregate and sing traditional Raja songs in chorus (banaste dakila gaja, barashake thare asichi Raja…, the elephant trumpets in the forest, Raja festival has arrived, let us enjoy. The elephant has no role in the festival, but gaja rhymes with raja!). Typical Odia sweetmeats are made and savoured – poda pitha, peda, arisa, kakra, khiri, etc. After the wholesome feast, the women are offered paan stuffed with fragrant spices.

Families who strictly adhere to the traditional way of celebrating this festival do not permit the women to touch Mother Earth with their bare feet; they must wear foot-wraps made of banana leaf. Not a laughable excess; there is a morning mantra in Sanskrit, expected to be chanted daily, where the person seeks forgiveness of Mahalakshmi before stepping out of bed upon the Earth, who is the Goddess incarnate. Vishnupatni namastuvyam, padasparsha kshymasvame.

Being not too dumb, I figured out why spouse wanted me to read the daily. Opened YONO and transferred to her account an amount enough to buy her a decent saree, in my opinion. Then I announced with a flourish, ‘You will not enter the kitchen for three days beginning today. Whenever you feel like, walk up to the terrace, and relax on the ancient swing (needs a paint job, and a little repair, but safe to swing gently). Don’t do a thing, please!’

What if the cook goes AWOL, she asked? Do you really expect me to sit at the swing in this sweltering heat?

Did you get a message from your bank, I asked?

She hadn’t checked. I’ll tell her about the fund transfer at a more opportune time.

I was serious about cooking, went to the kitchen, and made a salad for spouse.

Here is what I made and served. 

What do you think of it? Good, Very Good, Looks Appetising!? Come on, none of your applause would come even close.

No one has yet eaten this unique salad, except for my lucky spouse and self since I invented the recipe today, and made it for the first time. Can you list the ingredients? Easy-peasy? Go ahead, expand the photo all you want, and submit the answer; the reader who offers the best answer gets to savour this unique salad by Yours Truly.

Tomorrow, I’ll post the recipe. Watch out for my next blog.

***

 

Neem 1 of Bhopal

The tree on which the koels enacted their love dance is no ordinary neem; it is Neem 1 of Bhopal. 

Ref my previous blog: Dance of Life: Koels, Cobras and Sparrows: 

https://pkdash-author.blogspot.com/2024/06/dance-of-life-koels-cobras-and-sparrows.html

In July, 2015 the electricity maintenance staff cut several branches of this tree which they considered too close to the supply line. The tonsured tree looked sad and helpless.In my view, a lesser pruning would have sufficed. I shouted at them to think before chopping off large branches of this beautiful tree providing fruits to squirrels and birds and nests, too. I created an email id (neem1bhopal@gmail.com) to start a public campaign to save the tree from being felled by misguided electricity employees.

Today, I received a Google notification:

“You're receiving this message because your Google Account has not been used in at least eight months.

If you want to keep your Google Account, sign in to it before 12 February 2025. Take a moment now to sign in to your Google Account.

If you do not sign in to your Google Account before 12 February 2025, Google will delete your Google Account and its activity and data.”

I signed in to save the email account. I am on high alert when the electricity staff comes for their annual chopping and pruning. The tree is alive and happy, luxuriant lush green, and home to many birds and squirrels.

Neem 1 is about 20 years old, I guess, and would be there long after I am gone since average life-span of a neem tree is 150-200 years. Unless assassinated by electricity department or other killers.

Neem’s botanical name, Azadirachta indica, is interesting; the first word is a compound of two Persian words - Azad Dirakht (literally, free or noble tree), meaning abundantly found tree, and the second word refers to its favourite territory.

Dirakht is possibly derived from the Sanskrit word 'Vriksha'.

THE GARDEN OF LIFE by NAVEEN PATNAIK

Many years ago, I had read The Garden of Life: An Introduction to the Healing Plants of India by Naveen Patnaik (Former CM of Odisha). I wished to read it again, and located it at naveen.pdf (archive.org)

The book provides a snapshot of seventy sacred and medicinal plants of India and has a beautiful miniature painting for each plant.

Should you like to buy a copy of the book, a Collector’s item, it is available at Amazon (Hardcover- 4499.96, Paperback-3183.79), and also at The Garden of Life:Book (naveenpatnaik.in)

Here is an extract from the chapter on Neem:

“Today the margosa is valued more highly for its capacity to exorcise the demons of disease than the spirits or the dead, and an image of the folk goddess Sitala can often be seen suspended from a margosa branch where she guards against smallpox, once the great killer or the Indian countryside. With the eradication of smallpox, now bathing in a margosa-leaf infusion, excellent for soothing scabs and clearing away scars, marks the ritual termination or an. attack of chicken pox or measles.

Renowned for its antiseptic and disinfectant properties, the tree is thought to be particularly protective of women and children. Delivery chambers are fumigated with its burning bark. Dried margosa leaves are burned as a mosquito repellent. Fresh leaves, notorious for their bitterness, are cooked and eaten to gain immunity from malaria.

This tree, so beloved or India—with its fine star like flowers, its long lime-colored berries, and its leathery crests tossing fifty feet into the sky—is an invaluable natural pesticide and its oil is used to protect the bark of other trees from termites. For centuries its leaves have been used to store grain, or to preserve papers and clothes. Ecologically sympathetic, the classical texts or Indian architecture even call the margosa “Earth's Wish-Fulfilling Tree” because its inflorescence is purifying and its termite-resistant timber is invaluable to house construction in the tropics. More mundanely, the tree is revered by Indian herdsmen as a gentle but effective veterinary poultice, a virtue confirmed by the sixteenth-century Portuguese botanist and traveler, Garcia da Orta in his Coloquios:

Doctor R.: I beg you to recall the tree by the help or which you cured that valuable horse.

Orta: It is a tree that has great repute as valuable and medicinal. . . . The sore backs of horses that were most difficult to clean and heal were very quickly cured . . . with leaves pounded and put over the sores, mixed with lemon juice.

Margosa seed oil has been clinically tested as an external contraceptive, used by women as a spermicidal.”

On Banyan tree, a quote from the book:

"The British traders who followed King James's ambassador observed that Indian merchants, or banias, frequently conducted their business under this great tree, considering a contract made in its shade to be binding. Sometimes as many as a thousand banias collected between the plunging roots of one tree as if it were a stock exchange made of living wood, leading the British to name the tree of the banias the banyan."

Comments by Readers

Sangeeta Verma

She liked the piece, but offered a counter view.

“I live in a congested area of South Delhi and no deptt takes on the responsibility of annual pruning of trees. Requests to CPWD just go unanswered!  Not only are the branches growing into electricity wires, they are growing into the walls of houses, across windows! So, while I love the touch of green and morning bird song they bring (the latter specially as otherwise it is only the cacophony of vehicle horns), i would definitely value some pruning to allow sun & light during winters and prevent damage to our old walls!

How I wish I had among my readers E.E., CPWD, South Delhi to address Sangeeta Ji's concern! I offered her: 

'A quick solution. Just get CPWD to take on deputation a few chaps from my area. They are fanatical tree-choppers!'😀

 

Dance of Life:
Koels, Cobras, and Sparrows

Why juxtapose the songbird with a deadly serpent and a homely sparrow? Read on to find out.

A Pair of Koels

The other day I spotted a koel crouching on the neem tree in front of our house acting rather funny extending its beak and then retracting it repeatedly. Why would the bird do that, I wondered, and looked again. A few inches below and nearly hidden behind a luxuriant branch was a bigger koel, certainly the male, mirroring his partner’s movement. Is that a courtship dance? I had no idea. Koel is a shy, secretive bird, rarely seen out in the open, most reluctant to feed on the ground or perch on electric poles and wires - the preferred perching sites for more self-confident birds like the little sunbird, the magpie robins, bulbuls, doves, mynas, drongos, and pigeons.

Why are koels so shy? Are they embarrassed at their homelessness (koel, a brood parasite, never builds a nest) and for furtively placing their eggs in a host’s nest, outsourcing the task of raising kids to other unsuspecting birds?

What a privilege to watch a pair of koels consummating their love? I kept looking, suspending my morning exercise – exercise can wait, but the amorous play might climax and end soon. But, the beaking (akin to necking for larger animals) continued for several minutes. No sign of further progress. Then she stopped her beak dance. Why, what happened? The male was no longer seen. Was he tired and frustrated? Did the lady play too-hard-to-get, difficult-to-please; or did he fall short of her high standards for a proper mate? Before flying off, did the male say, ‘Call me if you change your mind.’?

I felt sorry for the male. He had been very patient, but that had not helped. Did he go looking for a more willing female? But why is the female still there? She stayed put at the same spot at the same branch, as though in deep meditation. Not a feather twitched, nor a leg moved. After fifteen minutes, she was still there. Is she asleep, or merely crest-fallen at hastily dismissing a potential suitor? I walked up to the terrace for a better view, with my phone-camera in hand. The female was rooted at her spot, and the male a little below her on another branch but completely hidden behind a thick foliage. He, too, was immobile. A few motorcycles and cars sped past honking their horns even though the street was empty, but the pair of lovers was unperturbed and unfazed.

(A Pair of Koels on a neem tree at Baghmugaliya Extension, Bhopal; photo by the blogger on his smartphone)

Why are they at kissing distance, oblivious of the outside world, yet doing nothing? Are they engaged in after-sex chat, discussing the strategy to locate a host bird’s nest; or are they enjoying a post-breakfast siesta after nibbling a few ripe nimbolis?[i]

The love birds stayed perched at the neem tree on the same branch for nearly an hour. I shot a few more photos and videos.

Later, I Googled about the mating and breeding behaviour of koels to learn of their clever, concerted action. Once the male spots a potential host bird’s nest ideal for the female to lay her eggs, he calls her to inspect and approve. Thereafter, the male hops and jumps to annoy the resident bird - a crow, starling, magpie, or even an aggressive drongo. When the male comes too near the nest, the home owner protests angrily and chases him away during which the female sneaks in and quickly lays her eggs in the vacant, unguarded nest, sometimes eating one or more of the owner’s eggs or merely pushing them away to crash on the ground. Upon return from the successful chase, the owner finds her nest in order, and all her eggs in place; satisfied, she begins hatching.

Kalidasa, too, had observed the enchanting mating dance of koels:

“Drunk on the honey of mango blossoms,

The koel rapturously kisses his mate ….

(Rtusamharam, Spring, Canto 6-14)*

Mating Dance

Our colony atop a rocky terrain abuts a little stream and a swamp. It is no surprise that snakes are sighted occasionally and during the breeding season baby snakes sometimes stray into the gardens and porches. This morning, a neighbour alerted us about a mongoose entering our garden. Was it chasing a snake? I issued an advisory to keep shut all doors opening to the garden and the backyard; but know it would be ignored.

Several vacant plots with shrubs and weeds provide perfect cover for reptiles. A few years ago, the Forest department had rescued a baby python who had strayed unto the metal road and forgot the path to return home. Link for my previous blog ‘A Python’s Plight’: https://pkdash-author.blogspot.com/2022/11/a-puzzled-python.html

Ashok Ratnaparkhe, a neighbour has seen many times a pair of mature cobras on the vacant plot adjoining his house. Fenced with a small gate locked by the owner, the plot is out of bounds for men and animals and a haven for the cobra couple who contain the rodent population in the area including the fat rats captured by folks at their home with mouse-traps and released on the east bank of the abandoned Laharpur Dam since they won’t commit paap of hurting Ganesha’s vahana, unaware that they are offering wholesome meals for Shiva’s pets!

A few months ago, Mr Sharma had seen the pair of cobras mating on the little clearing in front of Ashok’s home, so engrossed in love-duet that they completely ignored the man walking a large dog and struggling to restrain his alarmed pet from approaching the amorous serpents.

What time was it? I asked.

8.30 PM. It was chilly and there was no traffic on this road.

It is said to be a lucky sight, I said.

During my schooldays, I had read ‘Secret Magic Remedies,’ (not in my syllabus!) a book by an anonymous author which recommended that if you sight a pair of cobras making love, spread your towel near them and if they happen to roll over the towel during their passionate act, wait till their departure, pick up the towel and keep it as a treasure. This is your magic towel which would win any adverse litigation proceedings and guarantee victory against your enemies regardless of how powerful they might be.

I was a little child, and though kutti with Thabira, my classmate and neighbour after a quarrel over who had cheated in a game of glass marbles, I was most unlikely to go near mating serpents with a towel in hand. I had no ongoing litigation either.

I wished to tell Mr Sharma about all these wondrous opportunities he had missed for want of carrying a towel while walking his Alsatian; but his dog had other priorities and they had proceeded on the walk.

Sparrows at School

Our math teacher in high school was tough, a disciplinarian, unsmiling, and quick to punish us for not finishing homework or other minor faults. We maintained strict silence in his class and never dared pass slips and notes to neighbours to be relayed all the way to the backbenches. One day, while he was explaining a complex formula and scribbling the numbers on the blackboard with his back to the class, there began a muffled giggle which soon became a little wave rippling through the room, upon which the stern teacher turned around and demanded to know from the student who was giggling the loudest what was so funny about the formula on the blackboard. Come and explain it to the class, he ordered. The student went up to the blackboard, stared at the numbers in utter incomprehension, darted a look at the window, and giggled again, more loudly than before. The teacher looked at the window, and saw what the students had been seeing for the last several minutes. A pair of house-sparrows in a charming courtship dance and making love, again and again, unconcerned with the voyeurism and titillation of the adolescent boys. Maybe, the little birds were imparting sex education which the school didn’t.

Our teacher was dark-skinned, couldn’t get red in the face, but ordered us to ‘Stand Up’ on our benches for the remainder of the period and went out of the class in a huff.

***

Resources

·      CornellLab: Birds of the World (birdsoftheworld.org)

·      Ebird.org

·      Birdwatchingtoday.com

·      Animalia.bio

 

Comments by Readers

C.P. Singh

This blog straightaway took me to the life and times of Emperor Jahangir and his passionate habit of watching and observing the most natural mating behaviour of birds and animals. In "Tuzuk e Jahangiri", a sort of autobiography, he has described their mating behaviour as vividly as you have. Of course, his interests were a little more intense, and in bigger animals – elephants, horses, etc.

Truly a wonderful, vivid and lucid description of a matter to which not many of us would have paid much attention.

Thanx, indeed, for sharing your enjoyable blog.

(I found in archive.org 'The Jahangirnama: Memoirs of Jahangir, Emperor of India,' Translated, edited, and annotated by Wheeler M. Thackston, Published by OUP, 1999. Borrowed it for an hour and browsed, hope to read it sometime.)

---

[i] Nimbolis (Hindi) are golden yellow ripe neem fruits with a bitter-sweet pulp covering the seed, the neem tree’s clever evolutionary strategy to get the birds and squirrels to feast on the fruit and spread the seeds all over for propagation of a new generation of neem trees!

*The Complete Works of Kalidasa, Volume One: Poems; Translated by Chandra Rajan, Sahitya Akademy (First Edition-1997)

 

Emperor’s Dreams

Once upon a time, there was an emperor who ruled over a great empire. A Rajarshi, he abjured royal privileges and luxuries, and worked tirelessly, eighteen hours a day or more, to make his empire the most prosperous one in the whole world. Owing to the many schemes he had launched for the welfare of his subjects, no one was poor in his kingdom. Rivers of milk and honey flowed in so many parts of his kingdom that visitors from other kingdoms came in to marvel at the miracle, and sing paeans to the yashasvi emperor.

A small clarification: rivers of milk and honey flowed in those areas of the kingdom where his subjects were completely loyal and periodically demonstrated their loyalty and gratitude; in other areas, no one starved, everyone had the basic necessities of life, but the ‘rivers’ did not run through those areas as the loyalty of the subjects was not proven beyond doubt.

The emperor loved his subjects and the subjects loved him back, though it was sometimes maliciously rumoured by disgruntled persons and rebellious trouble-makers that he loved some of his subjects more than others.

It was the Golden Age for the empire. Strangely, though, the emperor was troubled, and could not sleep well. He saw ominous dreams whenever he tried to sleep or rest. Sometimes, these dreadful visions flashed across his mind even during the day when he was at his Durbar or conducting other affairs of the kingdom.

Once he saw himself walking reverentially with the puja thali in his hands to offer prayers to the Deity of the Kingdom, but before he could reach the sanctum sanctorum, the sparkling white marble floor transformed to quicksand, his feet began sinking, and he woke up in panic.

Another time, he saw himself as a majestic Royal Bengal tiger, the King of a vast jungle. His rule was just and proper, and his authority unchallenged. But now that he was no longer in the prime of his youth, younger tigers from the fringes of the forest had begun snarling from a safe distance. He knew they were gathering strength and courage to fight him someday, but that day was far in the future since no one could defeat him in a duel.

One day, he was on a leisurely, solitary walk when he noticed a little movement in the dense bushes to his left. Is that the ambitious young upstart tiger planning a guerilla attack, he wondered? After a while, he heard a big animal moving ever so cautiously behind the thick tree cover on the right. Is that another young tiger? That’s most unusual, tigers don’t attack in a pack. Too proud to seek help from anyone else. Single combat was their valour code. Yet, he knew times had changed, and moral codes no longer prevailed. Soon, there will be anarchy, he muttered under his breath.

Nothing happened. Neither one nor more tigers ambushed him. He was still the unrivalled king, but the possibility of a stealth attack by one or many made him anxious and his BP soared giving him a dizzy headache.

He could not consult the royal astrologers or the Kaviraj for remedy. The word would spread, his enemies would interpret it as his diminished self-confidence, and plot for a coup or engineer an attack by a rival kingdom. So, he kept his troubles to himself.

He took to pranayama, meditation, and drank warm milk before going to bed, but sleep still eluded him. Exasperated, he visited a holy shrine and sat down for a long meditation, closing his eyes, chanting AUM, and invoking the kingdom’s revered deity to appear in his mind’s eye. When all his efforts to visualise the image of the deity failed, he made a fervent appeal, ‘O God, why do you not hear the prayer of your faithful devotee? Are you angry with me for some reason? Why can’t I see your blissful, radiant image?’

After repeating this prayer for long, he at last heard a voice, the unmistakable voice of God, who said, ‘Why are you praying for so long? Don’t you have a kingdom to run, meet your petitioners and resolve their problems?’

‘You know, Dear God, why I am here. Why do you ask? Don’t you know of my troubles? When my empire is prosperous, and rivers of milk and honey flow here, why am I persecuted by those pernicious visions? Please grant me, your steadfast devotee, peace of mind.’

‘Why are you troubled?’

‘No idea, God, maybe due to some bad karma in a previous birth.’

‘How about your karma in this birth? Have you done anything irreligious, committed any paap?’

‘None, my Lord, except performing Raj Dharma which requires eliminating enemies of the kingdom, and inflicting fit punishment on criminals, mischief-makers, dissenters and other dangerous persons.’

‘But, is your heart pure? Do you harbour hate for any citizen of your kingdom?’

‘No, God. I love everyone, and everyone loves me back. They even chant my name - Chakravarty Maharaj- whenever I appear in public. No, I don’t hate anyone.’

‘Why don’t you find for yourself? Open your eyes, you’d find a pair of golden scales in front of you. Take out your heart, and weigh it on the scale.’

‘How is that possible?’

‘Didn’t Hanuman open his chest to reveal Shri Ram and Janaki installed in his heart? Just make a sincere wish, and your heart would be on the weighing scale. Not a drop of blood would be spilled, and you’d be unhurt. That is My Guarantee!’

(Image Credit: Bing AI Image Creator)

‘But what is the counter-weight? I see nothing on the other pan of the scale.’

‘Look again. There is a little white feather in the other pan. If your heart is lighter than the feather, know that there is no hatred in you, and you will be forever freed from your anxieties and dreadful visions.’

The dream ended here and the emperor woke up to face another day.

***

Disclaimer

Is this piece a political satire, a few readers have queried? 

No. It is an imaginary story, a work of fiction. Resemblance, if any, to an Emperor living or dead is purely coincidental. Esteemed readers are advised not to read it as a political or personal satire.

Acknowledgement

1.   In his book ‘Why We Die: The New Science of Aging and the Quest for Immortality’ Venki Ramakrishnan, Nobel Laureate refers to the Egyptian belief that Anubis, the jackal-headed god of the underworld weighs the heart of the deceased against a feather. To quote from ‘Why We Die’: In one of the final tests, Anubis weighs the heart of the deceased against a feather. If the heart is found to be heavier, it is impure, and the person is condemned to a horrible fate. But if the examinee is pure, he would enter a beautiful land filled with eating, drinking, sex, and all the other pleasures of life.

2.   Subhash Khuntia, a dear friend and a thoughtful reader, read the first draft of this story and offered some valuable suggestions which helped me to significantly improve it.