How I Became A Tree–Musings Of An Arboreal Enthusiast

I feel a great regard for trees; they represent age and beauty and the miracle of life and growth.

—Louise Dickinson Rich

“Time spent amongst trees is never wasted time”

—Katrina Mayer

“Ah, metamorphosis! But how can a human being become a tree?” I queried as a friend gifted me Sumana Roy’s How I Became a Tree. She smiled enigmatically and said with a twinkle in her eyes: “Read it”.

On the cover page, the line-drawing of a girl with a tree sprouting from her body, looked quite imaginative. I could envision a tree-man or tree-woman—cool and green and lovely like a tree. We were sitting under the sprawling ‘Pilkhan’ tree in my friend’s lawn in Delhi, sipping tea. “Let’s celebrate our ‘tree time,’” she said. Another mesmerising term!

We, Shimlaites, are well-aware of the expression ‘tea time’ because the catch phrase ‘every time is tea time’ is common here since we gulp down our ‘cuppa’ as often as it is offered. But ‘tree time’ appeared something peculiar. Roy elucidates ‘Tree time’ as the way trees live in the moment, “living in the present … a life without worries for the future or regret for the past. Here’s sunlight: gulp, swallow, eat; there’s night, rest.”

Disenchanted with the modern living of speed and deadlines, she wishes to be a tree where there is no hurrying. “It was impossible to rush plants, to tell a tree to hurry up. In envy, admiration and with ambition, I began to call that pace ‘Tree Time,’” she writes.

Trees are our perpetual companions, our soothing benefactors—beautiful, bountiful, symbolic and non-violent. Peter Wohlleben, in his book The Heartbeat of Trees, opines that “trees have heartbeats; and roots are like brains that extend underground.” Since time immemorial, the tree has been a sacred symbol, signifying the tree of life in almost all cultures, mythologies and religions across the globe. Trees have always mystified humans; trees are the philosophic places for meditation, source of fruits and wood, and paragon of beauty.

Japan’s forest bathing (called Shirin Yoku) is a powerful return to the forest which aims at reducing stress and blood pressure and boosting energy. Our culture, known as ‘Aranyani’, is an indication of the profound interaction humans have with trees and by implication with nature. Roy experimented forest living after reading Bibhutibhushan Bandhopadhyay’s forest-centred novel Aranyak, to understand the mystery of man’s relations with trees and to recognise her own ‘tree-ness’. She wanted to see, feel, smell, hear and experience the communality of trees.

In folk practices, including folktales and folk songs, trees figure prominently. Mythological stories and literary works are replete with tree lore. In some folktales, trees may curse a man to die but that is only when they are under the spell of some evil spirit, otherwise trees are benevolent and help mythical heroes to achieve their goals.

In a Sanskrit Subhashit, a fruit-laden tree illustrates humility and wisdom. “Namanti falani vrikshah, namanti sajjana jana”; a fruit laden tree bends down, likewise a wise and virtuous man too bends in humility. Octavio Paz, the Mexican poet uses the tree as a symbol to express his deep amorous urges:

A tree grew inside my head,

A tree grew in.

Day breaks….

There, within, inside my head,

The tree speaks

Come closer – can you hear it?

In Himachal Pradesh, a number of tree-lore have performed the important task of guiding people to protect forests and the environment. One such story is of God Baindra, who scattered pine seeds as he walked along the mountainous terrain. In due course of time, tall pines grew wherever the seeds fell and pine forests became the lifeline of the people. The pine forests of the state are revered for fear of incurring the wrath of the deity.

In Solomon Islands in the South-western Pacific Ocean, it is sacrilegious to chop down a green tree, so the best possible way is to let it wither by the power of curses. The villagers gather around the tree and start yelling and cursing using incantation. After about 30 days, the negative energy of the curses weakens its life force and the “cursed” tree starts withering. Once it is dry, the villagers are permitted to axe it down. Though the existence and efficacy of this practice is not proved by science, the complex ritual serves two purposes: first, it discourages reckless felling of trees; and second, the act of ‘cursing’ is a metaphor for the damage that negative energy can inflict on all living beings, humans and non-human.

At present, the fast-paced urbanisation has harmed trees beyond imagination. We are witness to the felling of hundreds of precious and beautiful trees that are ‘killed’ for widening highways. Development is putting incredible pressure on the country’s ecology and as forests are being denuded, the lush landscape is being overtaken by a dreary expanse of concrete.

Tamarind tree is known to offer protection from lightning. In South Indian states, the country side used to be dotted with tamarind trees but a large number of these have fallen a prey to various projects. Now denuded, the areas are prone to lightning risks. In Bihar, the lightning fatalities have surged due to the felling of Tadi palm traditionally used for extracting Toddy. Since Toddy tapping is banned by law in the state, the Tadi palms have become redundant, losing their monetary value; and considering them useless, people are axing these trees. A newspaper reports that these palms “acted like natural lightning rods and their disappearance correlates with an increase in lightning strikes”.

Roy’s lovely book, part memoirs and part natural history is the author’s love song to trees; it is a meditative work replete with striking observations and offers an exploration of the self through trees.

Further, for Roy, trees have science, art, literature and culture engulfed within their being. Rabindranath Tagore loved trees and encouraged people to plant trees in and around the premises of Shantiniketan. He assigned poetic Bengali/Sanskrit names to these trees. During my stay at Vishvabharati University, I was mesmerised by names like Radha chuda, Krisha chuda, Muchkund, Neelmani lata and the like radiating poetic appeal.

Tagore had deep veneration for ‘Saptparni’, the Chatim tree. Saptparni alludes to the seven leaves on each branch. He chose this tree as his own “equivalent to the laurel.” In ancient Greece, victors in competitions were crowned with laurel crown from which the phrase “to win laurels” originated. On the same analogy, Tagore started the practice of awarding a tiny Saptparni bough to each student during convocation. Today, the practice exists symbolically—to save the precious tree from over-exploitation, the Chancellor gives just a small branch to the vice-chancellor on behalf of all the graduating students.

In her personal and philosophical journey, Roy reveals a palpable concern for trees that is both parental and amorous. Her moment of epiphany arrives when a tiny bird, probably a kindred companion, perches on her shoulder to guide her on her favoured route. Ultimately, this compendium is about being human in a world dominated by technology, and about forging a bond with nature.

D Usha Bande is Shimla-based veteran writer and author.