The fruits or pods of the gulmohar are thick and blackish-brown. They are long, growing as much as a foot in length. You can paint on the pods using acrylic paints. The best way to paint these is to use geometric patterns in bright colours, which you can then stack on your bookshelves or on a table against the wall for maximum effect. Other trees have fruits of different shapes that you can paint on. Most of us have used pine cones during school art and craft sessions. When you can’t find pine cones, cones from the spiky casuarina trees found everywhere in our cities make for a good substitute. There are many other trees we can turn to—such as the strange capsule-like fruit of the big-leaved mahogany and the round fruit of the wood apple and Buddha coconut.
Tamarind seeds have been traditionally used in games that tested skills of dexterity, concentration and mathematics. They are used not just in India but also in Africa and South East Asia. Ei sok, a game played in Thailand where children scoop up tamarind seeds using a paper cone helps children develop skills of coordination and movement. In India, we have a similar game called uffangali (seed-blowing game). The equipment required is simple—a pile of tamarind or other seeds, a smooth surface and lots of friends. The game involves collecting all the seeds into a pile and then blowing hard to scatter them. The seeds that are blown away from the pile belong to that player.
In Uganda, tamarind seeds are used as counters in a traditional board game called omweso. Similarly, in India, pallanguzhi is played using tamarind seeds. A solitary version of this game is said to have been played by Sita to pass her time while she was held captive by Ravana. The game needs two players and consists of a rectangular board of wood or stone with two rows of seven hollows each. Seeds are transferred from hollow to hollow, with complicated rules that dictate when to stop, and when and how to collect seeds. Pallanguzhi is a game of chance, but it also helps in developing counting skills, logical thinking and hand–eye coordination. Today there is a huge push to revive traditional games such as aadu huli aata (goats and tigers, a game similar to ludo), paramapada (similar to snakes and ladders), pagade and chowka bara. The English versions of these games are bought from stores or ordered online. But none of this is really needed. All we require is to be able to draw the board on the floor with chalk or rangoli powder, collect tamarind seeds or other hard seeds from the nearest tree during the fruiting season and start playing.
Seeds make lovely decorative items. The red sandalwood or red sanders tree bears gorgeous, shiny red seeds. These seeds can be found in many temples in Kerala, where they are stored in giant urulis (traditional bronze bowl-shaped vessels) at the front of the temple. These seeds are very popular with children, who collect them in heaps and store them in bottles and bowls at home, using them as coins in various games. They are also used to make jewellery and craft items by drilling a hole through them and stringing them on wires. The seeds of the red sandalwood tree remain bright despite age and only fade when immersed in water. Traditional Indian jewellers used these beads as weights to measure gold, with each seed weighing around 4 grams. These small scarlet seeds were popular well beyond the confines of homes in India, making it all the way to Bond Street, London. Here, they were used in fashion jewellery in the 1920s, with the seeds set in gold to make rings, necklaces and brooches, starting a fashion trend.
Other seeds are also used to make jewellery, both cosmetic and religious. In 1891, British traveller W.S. Caine described a visit to the markets of Pune city, where artisans could be found, ‘making lovely sham jewellery of some sort of perfumed composition; bracelets, necklaces, chains and anklets of various seeds’. These seeds included the ‘red seeds of the rukta chandan, the mottled seed of the betel net, and the deeply furrowed seeds of the rudraksh’. Not much has changed in the 130 years since this visit. Similar jewellery is sold in shops even today, especially in temple towns across India.
The subabul is a fast-growing species with a tendency to turn invasive. A good way of ensuring that its seeds are not dispersed is to make jewellery from them. The Indian mast tree is another common city tree, planted along the boundary of offices and parks. If we strip away the outer covering of the seeds of this tree, the pale white seeds look very pretty. These are also strung together with colourful beads to make necklaces.
If jewellery bores you, bubbles will certainly catch your attention. The soapnut tree is well known in India. Its fruit is used as a hair wash and conditioner, and as an eco-friendly detergent to wash delicate clothes and saris. For children, the fruit can provide an endless source of enjoyment for blowing soap bubbles. All it takes is a soapnut fruit and a safety pin. Stick the end of the safety pin that has the rounded loop into the ripening fruit. Pull it out gently—a thin film of soap appears. Blowing on this can generate bubbles, small in size but beautiful, with iridescent, shimmering blue–green colours, definitely eco-friendlier than the plastic bubble maker sold in shops, filled with harsh commercial detergents.
Another fun tree is the African tulip tree, also called the squirt tree or syringe tree. The flower buds contain a watery liquid. Children collect the buds and squeeze them, squirting the liquid on one another. In north India, for obvious reasons, this tree is called the pichkari, after the water pistol used to spray colours during the festival of Holi. In Karnataka, the tree gets the earthy name of ucche kai mara (pee fruit tree) in Kannada.
The place we grow up in also influences what trees we have access to. A common game called marakothi (tree monkey) in south India has children climbing a tree. One child holds a stick in his hand and climbs up, trying to touch another child. When he succeeds, he throws the stick down. The child he has touched has to climb down and collect the stick. It is now his or her turn to climb up and catch another child. Sword fights using sticks are other fun ways to pass time. A more complex game is guldoria, played by flinging hooked sticks between children. The idea is to keep the stick constantly in the air— the game is lost when one player fumbles and the stick falls on the ground.
In south India, the coconut tree is an important source for games. The fronds of coconut leaves are used to make balls, whistles, watches, a dancing girl that moves her hands, and other toys. Working with and weaving coconut leaves requires practice, but it’s like riding a bicycle—once learnt, you never forget. The midrib of the leaflets of the coconut fronds are commonly bunched together and sold as broomsticks. But these can also be dried and put to several other uses. These sticks can be used to make bows and arrows. The sticks break often and the arrows hardly ever pierce anything, nor do they go too far. But children can spend many hours honing their skills making bows and using the arrows for safe target practice. Coconut sticks are also used with paper and glue to make kites at home—another favourite activity around the time of the harvest festival Makar Sankranti, when kites are flown from rooftops and grassy plains across the city.
Children love tossing a ball around, but this can become an expensive pastime. Balls get into neighbours’ compounds and are lost in drains or on treetops. The fruit of the rain tree is a handy replacement. Smash the pods on the ground using a hard stone, take out the sticky black pulp and shape this into a ball. This, however, must be done quickly before the pulp hardens into a rock-like object. If you are not careful, it can leave an indelible stain on your hands and clothes—and the ‘ball’ is so hard that it can hurt if it strikes you. Yet this is a favourite with children, used for cricket and throwball. The flower of the rain tree looks like a powder puff and is a favourite with little children playing imaginary dress-up.
With a little bit of imagination there are so many ways to be creative using the different parts of trees growing around us. Handling seeds, leaves, flowers and fruits is a great way of connecting with nature, for adults and children alike. Such memories, built during childhood, stay with us through adulthood. They can provide the lifelong connect that helps us take an interest in nurturing trees around us, in the cities where we make our homes.
Painting on Peepul Leaves
Pain
ting on the skeleton of peepul leaves is an ancient art form believed to have originated in Kerala. It requires patience and time to prepare the leaf skeleton. First, look for a peepul tree near your house and pluck a few green leaves. The best time to collect the leaves (and stock up for the whole year) is in spring when new leaves grow. Choose leaves that are not mature, but not too tender either. If they are mature, they take too long to prepare. If they are tender, they are fragile and easily destroyed during the preparation process.
Take the leaves and place them in a large bowl of water or a wide-mouthed bottle, making sure they are completely soaked. Change the water every other day, gently scrubbing off the top slimy layer with your fingers and adding fresh water. Over time, soaking the leaves will remove the outer covering. In about twenty to thirty days, this covering will begin to fall off in parts, revealing the delicate, beautiful skeleton (midrib and veins). Continue the process until all the green material has fallen off and the leaf skeleton is exposed. Dry the leaves well. Place a coloured sheet under the leaf and paint with oil or acrylic paints. You can paint an elaborate work of art if you are in the mood or just some fun stripes using many colours.
EIGHT
TAMARIND:
THE FIRANGI
INDICA
Heroes come in different forms, even in the shape of trees. The city of Hyderabad suffered a devastating flood on 28 September 1908. After a heavy monsoon, a tropical cyclone resulted in the Musi river overflowing. The flood killed 15,000 people and destroyed 19,000 homes. The death count could have been even higher. A massive tamarind tree in Afzal Park, adjacent to Osmania General Hospital, saved as many as 150 people who climbed on to it. Several of those who survived by clinging on to the tree were patients and their relatives from Afzalgunj Hospital, which had caved in because of the floods. The tree, believed to be 300 years old, still stands today. Commemorative events to remember the victims of the Musi flood continue to be held under the shade of this tamarind.
Tamarind trees can tell many tales of adventure and intrigue. In 2004, it was under the shade of a tamarind-lined avenue on Akbar Road in New Delhi that agitators collected to put pressure on Sonia Gandhi to take up the post of prime minister after the Congress’s election victory. One protester is said to have climbed a tamarind tree, refusing to come down unless his demand was met. Even after the issue was resolved, with Sonia Gandhi saying no to the post of prime minister and the crowd finally accepting her decision, a few men continued to perch on the trees.
This unlikely hero is so much a part of Indian culture, particularly Indian food, that many of us will be surprised to find out it is a firangi (a foreign import). The scientific name of the tamarind is Tamarindus indica. The name ‘indica’ leads to the common misconception that the tree originated in India. But in this, the tree has us fooled. It came not from India, but from far-off central Africa, where it was called the ‘tree of life’. The tamarind made its way to India millenniums ago. Wood charcoal analysis shows us that the tamarind was found in Narhan, in the Ganga valley, by 1300 BC, and also in the pre/early Harappan period in Haryana. The Brahma Samhita scriptures, dating back to between 1200 BC and 200 BC, also talk of the tamarind. Down south, a copper plate inscription of 819 AD mentions a tamarind tree named Mahamadhu—perhaps a tree with large beehives? We will probably never know, but it is fun to speculate.
There are a number of tales about the tamarind from different parts of India. One legend from Sambalpur says that there was a fight between Bhasmasura, the asura chief, and Mahadev (Shiva). Bhasmasura hid in the tamarind tree, but Mahadev opened his third eye. The magical power from his third eye shattered the leaves of the tamarind tree, making them small forever. In Tamil Nadu, the Perumal temple in Alwar Thirunagiri commemorates Nammalwar, one of the twelve famous Alwar saints. As an infant, he is said to have crawled into a hole in a tamarind tree and meditated for twelve years. A massive tree within the temple walls is believed to be the same one—its bark has been stripped away by devotees who believe that it has magical healing properties. The tree bears flowers, but it is said that its fruits do not mature and, unlike other tamarinds, its leaves do not close at night either. Thus, it gets the name urunga puli (the tamarind tree that does not sleep).
The Arabs, who had trade relations with India as early as 600 AD, loved the tree as much as we do in India. They gave it the name Tamar-i-Hind (date fruit of India) because of the brown fruit that resembled dates. It is believed that the species name, ‘indica’, was given by Linnaeus, from this derivation in Arabic. The Arabs traded in the fruit, taking it to European and Arabian countries.
The genus Tamarindus has only one species—the tamarind that we all know. The tree is never really without leaves, though during the dry season it may be scantily covered. But it looks most beautiful when fresh, tender leaves appear with the onset of the monsoon. We don’t usually pay attention to its flowers, which are quite tiny and a pretty creamish-yellow. There is a very interesting behaviour that the leaves display. If you look carefully, you will see the leaves are open during the day, but fold as soon as the sun sets. This behaviour fascinated Alexander the Great and his team. Androsthenes, a Greek admiral who was sent by Alexander on military expeditions, recorded this strange movement of the leaves of a tamarind on the island of Tylos, which we now know as Bahrain, in the fourth century BC.
Many flowering plants show similar behaviour—their leaves or flowers close at night and reopen in the sunlight, a phenomenon with the long and complicated name of nyctinasty. At the bottom of the compound leaf of the small tamarind lies an even tinier organ called the pulvinus. Water rushes in and out of different parts of the pulvinus at dawn and sunset, leading to small changes in pressure at the bottom of the leaf, which press it closed at night, opening it again at dawn. We know how the tamarind closes its leaves (well, at least partially. The chemical details, however, are still not fully known to scientists). But why does it go to all this effort? This still remains a mystery, despite science having progressed in the millenniums since Alexander’s great march.
We may not know why the tamarind sleeps at night. But (and perhaps more to the point) we do know how to use it. Almost every part of the tamarind tree has some value. The sour fruits are high in calcium and can be made into pickles or chutneys. Ripe tamarind pulp is of course widely used in Indian cooking, in a variety of dishes. Some communities also use the flowers. In Latin America, the ripe pulp is sweetened with sugar and made into a popular local drink called tamarindo. The British use the pulp to make their famous Worcestershire sauce. But the fruits and flowers are not used in festivals or ceremonies as they are considered too sour to be auspicious. The acidic pulp is much in demand in homes, used to clean tarnished brass, bronze and silver vessels (as well as much valued idols and lamps). The tree’s tender leaves are rich in vitamin C and very tasty—they can be made into chutneys, added to sambar, or chopped into chapatti batter. Mangaloreans even have a traditional recipe for roasted tamarind seeds (pulinkote), eaten after removing the hard coat. Be careful if you try this at home—this requires strong teeth and you may crack yours if you are not careful.
The seeds have other traditional uses. In Tamil Nadu, a folk performance called koothu, performed by the Kaniyan community, uses drums called makudam. These drums are made by pasting leather to a wooden frame, using glue made from tamarind seeds. In Bengal, a powder made from the seeds is used by master craftsmen, who mix these with powdered colours at very high temperatures and use the resulting varnish and colours to paint idols. Over the years, the artisans had shifted to using commercial paint. But in recent years, the famous craftsmen of Kumortuli in Kolkata have returned to using home-made dyes with the help of tamarind seeds. Not only are these cheaper, they are also longer-lasting and eco-friendly. Tamarind wood has its uses too. It is termite-resistant and hardy, and sought-after in cities as fuel. It can be used to make furniture as well, and charcoal produced from the wood can be used to make gunpowder. The wood was once used as fuel
for gasogens or wood gas units, which converted wood or charcoal into gas, and powered Indian vehicles during WWII.
In its original home of central Africa, the tamarind occurs naturally in dry savanna woodlands. The Senegalese capital, Dakar, is named after the local name for tamarind which is dakhar. But the tree has now spread across the world and is grown in fifty-four countries. Not surprisingly, India is the world’s largest producer of tamarind. One of the oldest man-made tamarind groves is the Nallur Amarai grove, close to the international airport in Bengaluru. This is a massive grove of trees, covering a little over 53 acres. Some of the trees are believed to have been planted during the reign of the Chola dynasty, several hundred years ago. The grove was protected by special watchers appointed by the British government, who also planted additional trees here. In 1887, the grove had fifty-five big and 342 large tamarind trees, and provided a source of revenue for Bengaluru. It now has over 300 trees. Carbon dating has found that the oldest tree here is over 400 years old. The old trees have a unique feature. They bear prop roots, which look like that of the banyan—roots that emerge from the trunk to provide support. These suckers enable the tree to spread, allowing new canopies to sprout from the parent plant.
The Nallur Amarai grove is famous across India. It is the first biodiversity heritage site to be declared in the country. Sadly, the grove is now somewhat neglected, overgrown with weeds, with unregulated grazing by livestock that nibble on the leaves and threaten the trees. Garbage is dumped in the grove as well, especially during temple fairs, and by weekend revellers from the city who do not know about or appreciate the ecological and historical significance of this centuries-old grove.
The tamarind has been a popular roadside tree for centuries. It flourishes on dusty roadsides, thrives in the heat, provides shade and acts as a windbreak in windy areas. The small compound leaves are efficient at collecting dust particles from the air and at reducing noise pollution. The tree was a favourite with the Mughal rulers. Babur, who established the Mughal Empire in India, described the tamarind as a ‘very good-looking tree, giving dense shade’ in Babur Nama. In Akbar’s time, the fruit (called ambli) was economically valued and sold in the market.
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