Samrudhdi Kerkar
Since my childhood, whenever I went to Menkure village with my grandmother to spend a few days at my Aatya’s place, I would see a very old tree revered as Barazan. The tree is the Ceylon Oak (Schleichera oleosa), locally known as Kosam. Even today, whenever I hear the name Menkure, this tree instantly appears in my mind, as if the tree itself embodies the village. The tree is indeed iconic, standing like a wise and benevolent village elder watching over his children. The village feels incomplete without its presence.
In Goa, Barazan is a concept established in the memory of twelve elders who were believed to have founded the first settlement in the village. In this village, they are respected with the same zeal, and the tree is represented as the unseen Holy Spirit, symbolically worshipped in the shrine beneath its vast canopy.
This tree has always sparked my curiosity with its mysterious presence. Its dense and wide canopy shelters countless birds that find refuge in its branches, filling the air with their chirping songs throughout the day. The space around it is carefully cleaned, and a pedestal has been built in its shade where people can sit and rest in its tranquil shelter. In the evening, when the light fades and darkness slowly crawls in, villagers light a lamp in front of the Barazan shrine. The area quietens, and the slowly burning lamp in the kohl black darkness adds layers of mystery to the place.
The villagers tell stories that once the Kalvot, the temple dancers, used to perform in this very space. Over time, this practice changed, and a play, or natak, was once about to take place here. However, it was suddenly disrupted by an unfortunate incident when a person died after a branch fell just before the play could begin. From then on, a custom of sacrificing a goat to the Barazan began.
For a long time, I had been seeing this tree through a lens tainted with enigma, until one day I saw its completely different visage. Once, in the springtime, it had entirely changed its colour from deep green to tender, blush pink, like a dainty woman with flushed cheeks. I realised that I had seen this tree many times in the jungles, adding its colourful reddish pink flush to the verdant landscape and drawing attention even from far off mountains. But I did not know that it was the same tree I had grown up seeing with so much reverence and mystique.
Kosam holds an important place in local diets, cultural practices, and traditional medicine among tribal communities such as the Gond and Paharia in India. In Goa, the Velip tribal community also respects it as a sacred tree. For generations, these communities have depended on the Kosam tree for food, oil, and herbal medicine. They also revere it deeply, much like a guardian. The seeds of the tree yield oil that is applied for joint pain, hair loss, gastritis, alopecia, and burns, while the fruits are valued for their digestive and therapeutic properties. The bark is traditionally used to treat leprosy, skin diseases, ulcers, and malaria.
Beyond human use, the tree also supports livestock. Its leaves, twigs, and seed cakes serve as a nutritious feed supplement. This tree bears tiny fruits, roughly the size of a berry. These fruits mature and ripen during the rainy season and have a pleasant, slightly sour taste when ripe. Tribal communities in Odisha prepare traditional dishes from them. For instance, Kusum chutney is made from a jelly-like extract obtained by boiling the fruits, which is then blended with local spices such as chilli, salt, fresh coriander, and garlic to create a tangy and flavourful
preparation.
Beyond all these uses, the tree is especially recognised for its transformative nature. It possesses an otherworldly charm in the spring season, when it completely turns into a shining reddish pink. I recently went under the shade of one such tree during a sweltering afternoon in Matne in Dodamarg. Its pink shade felt magically tranquil. Here, the tree is believed to be the abode of a protector deity. As I looked up at pieces of blue sky peeping through the mesh of reddish leaves, they gently rustled, making their presence felt.
