Sal flowers in my basket

When Sal flowers are thrown into the air, they don’t fall down. They land like a helicopter would land. The petals become wings that revolve at the head, and seed at the centre touches the ground first. I was mesmerised by the flowers all around me inside the Prakruti Prerana campus during my visit in June. Amidst the scorching heat, I didn’t expect to see much pleasantness. My eyes were sweating internally making my vision hazy the first few days. Over the days I started getting used to the summer and experiencing nature around me as I would have in the spring or monsoon. I could sense the slightest breeze and enjoy the temperature drop under shadowed areas.

I was told that the seeds at the centre of the Sal forest are used to make Sal butter. Life right now is giving me ample opportunity to change all skin care products I have been using to more organic, less-chemical products. I have an evolving need to become one with the earth with the smell of mud, flowers and rain, absorbing me. I want to become invisible amidst all other other beings. Naturally, I was thrilled to make some Sal butter myself and try using that.

For the first time ever I stepped into the forest as a gatherer. Was this really what our ancestors have done and lived off as forest dwellers? A life where every single experience is a simple and wholesome experience. It’s going to be difficult to capture my experience here in words. But I am going to give it a try.

I took a big basket with me which hardly fit the span of my arms. Walking into the forest space, I looked for the Sal tree that I already knew was thriving towards the borders of the fenced area. I crouched on the ground to look for flowers and oh! There were very few compared to just a few days ago. In an area of a square foot I could find only two to three flowers. It was not going to be easy to fill this basket which had the capacity of more than a thousand flowers. After collecting maybe fifty flowers, I started walking closer to the fence to find more trees.

There was no smell in the air, I wasn’t wearing a white cotton sari, and there was no waterfall close by. It wasn’t how such an activity is romanticised in my imagination. Instead I had my cargo palazzos, a crop top and a dupatta to cover any visible parts of my body in case anyone from the community passes by and finds me in uncomfortable positions bending over to collect the flowers. Under my feet, my slippers were crushing deep piles of dried leaves and I wondered if I should take them off. Each step was making a lot of sound. It felt like I was disturbing the otherwise silent peace in which the beings here were resting. I was have loved to feel the crushing sensation at the soles of my feet, but there were lizards who were also noisily moving through the leaves. Better be careful, I thought.

Many flowers I found were not easy to lift off the ground. A tiny portion of them had already become one with the soil or the leaves around them. They had started merging with a weaving pattern that was holding the seed to the ground. Once I realised that such a process had already begun, I became more cautious of choosing flowers that were still loosely fallen. After the first two trees, I couldn’t find another tree for a very long time. I knew where the biggest tree would be, saving that as the last place to visit. Not a good idea. For an hour, every Sal tree I found in the vicinity had very few fallen flowers. I wondered if people from the neighbouring village had already collected most of these flowers. What were they doing with it? Would they make something of it? Or were the seeds being eaten by animals?

I had already lost most of my energy when I decided to go to the big tree. It was outside the fenced area and right next to the pond where tigers drink water at night. It was also right on the road where a bike would pass every 10 minutes or so. A safe location and also very out in the open with the sun blazing over the spot in all its mightiness. Once I reached the tree, the first look at the ground and I found every inch of a square foot covered in flowers. Maybe ten to fifteen for me to collect. I almost fell to the ground in excitement and started collecting the flowers as if someone had thrown cash all over the ground and I did not want to miss a single note! My hands were moving faster than I thought my body was capable. In ten minutes, one-fourth of my basket was already full. And there was still a lot more on the ground. As if no one had touched it.

So right here, this is what is abundance. As a child I had heard my mother tell a story of a child who wanted to take some milk for his mother to make kheer. A saint along the way gave him a tiny bottle, but since the child couldn’t find any other source for milk, he took just that back to his mother. His mother while pouring the milk into the pan was disappointed with the situation, but the milk kept flowing out of the bottle, surprising both the mother and the child. They had been gifted with a magical abundant bottle.

My experience under the big Sal tree was just the same. I felt like perhaps every time I cleared a little space of flowers and turned back to it after a while, there would be more flowers already waiting for me to be picked up. Trees, forest, nature, how much more can you keep giving? You are the abundant magical one…