Cutting the branch we sit on

The Amazon rainforest is smouldering. In Indonesia and Malaysia, the forest has flamed out in a haze, gagging the skies with a dense, impenetrable layer. Closer home, in Mumbai, 2,000-plus bare stumps mark the spot that was once part of a forest, where in a bizarre show of one-upmanship between the state government and environmentalists, local authorities chopped down trees in the dead of night to clear the land for an upcoming metro shed. 

Never has the assault on nature been more brutal and the attitude more callous. In the US, the President does not flinch when he declares that there is no climate crisis. In Asia’s populous nations, politicians regularly hold the environment hostage to development. And in India, ecology and climate are wrapped into homilies and populist slogans, while forests and rivers are guillotined to serve the interests of a few. 

Nature is the creative spirit of the universe. In most mythologies, she is a goddess and the world is born out of her grace that will be ground to dust as and when she so desires. Humankind, the stories tell us, comes from a goddess or an egg or from the rainbow serpent — in Africa, several tribes speak of the rainbow that lives as a coiled serpent in the depths of the universe. It is the first creature to have inhabited our world and we are made out of its body. 

The myths talk about the oneness of life — that all beings are connected to one another. As we come from one, we are all one. In Vedic and other Asian mythologies that believe in the cycle of rebirth, men and women are reborn as everything from animals, insects, birds and fishes and even trees and plants. In Malaysia, for instance, the Chewong (Si Wang) people believe that children can change into flowers under certain conditions. In the Philippines, monkeys and men were siblings until the two were separated by a god. In India, monkeys, bears, rivers and a host of other living beings have borne human children, raised them or turned into men or women and vice versa. Tigers, monkeys, peacocks are imbued with human and divine qualities across the world.

Trees, too, are anthropomorphic. The story of Greek nymph Daphne is well known. The god Apollo was smitten by her and pursued her even though Daphne did not reciprocate his feelings. Unwilling to take her “no” for an answer, the god chased her until she grew exhausted and cried out to Gaia (Gaea) for help. The mother goddess turned Daphne into a laurel tree, which Apollo then adopted as his sacred plant. Today, the laurel wreath is a symbol of victory and triumph in most parts of the world.

In India almost every tree has a story running through it. The banyan, the fig tree, the eucalyptus — all trees are sacred because of their association with a divinity. In the Mahabharata, the Pandavas hide their weapons on a sami tree (Prosopis cineraria) and then sing praises of the goddess before going into exile. The sami tree has cult status in ancient Indian texts and was a part of royal celebrations during Navaratri and Vijayadasami. 

Not all trees are sacred, some are merely extensions of the human race. According to a tale from Odisha, the trunk of the semul (red silk cotton) tree has thorns because a demon stuck his teeth in there. The story goes that the king of Judagarh village had two wives but was childless. He loved his wives and did not want another one so he set a reward out — half the village as his kingdom, for anyone who cured the queens of their infertility. 

A demon called Kaliya Dano in the next village, who spent his days masquerading as a holy man, answered the king’s call. When the queens were sent to him, however, he ate them up. Whenever the king asked about them, Dano pretended to be in deep penance. Finally, the king marched into Dano’s village but the demon, having spied the army from afar, fled into the forest. The king discovered the bones of his wives in the demon’s empty hut and set out in pursuit. Dano, meanwhile, clambered up the Semul tree in fear and as he climbed, he pulled out all his sharp teeth and pushed them into the trunk so that no one could climb up after him. And there he perches to this day. As the trees come down, so will the demons.