The place where I live, Neem trees are easy to spot, with their dark,
slender trunks and dainty green leaves. In the earlier days, when
there were fewer roads, even fewer vehicles and concrete structures,
Neem trees were integral part of local communities. Neems offered
shelter to travellers, stray animals and birds seeking shade and
shelter in sweltering summer afternoons. Neem trees often would have
a pot or two of water kept by local residents for weary
travellers. Neem trees were where people would gather to talk, either
sitting on the ground or on charpoys (cots). Some Neems would host
devatas and devis, so believed those who lived nearby and during
special occasions, the trees would receive offerings in the form of
lighted diyas (small earthen lamps), flowers and sweets, to
appease the gods and goddesses living in them.
In those summer days where mosquitoes were in distant future and warm
winds blew from the desert, most of us slept on rooftops, under a
clearer, dark sky littered with distant stars. There were fewer street
lamps and houses were lit by tungsten bulbs. The nights were thus dark
and stars shone brightly. A massive Neem stretched its tawny fingers
across the rooftop where we slept. It was one of those nights when I
discovered something fascinating about the Neem. I was late in waking
up and the morning sun had already bid the stars farewell. The early
sunlight picked out the edges of the young leaves of the neem. With
the sun warming my eye, I woke up to find the leaves above me lit,
sparkling as a gentle wind blew. It was then I noticed the pattern of
the leaves, they were unique in how they were arranged around the slim
brown branch. As I continued to look, I saw the hidden circles in the
pattern, as if the leaves were attached to invisible circles, and not
the branch. The leaves resembled dervishes in motion. It was a
fascinating discovery of patterns in nature.
Neem is not as majestic as a peepul tree or as beautiful as the
stately Arjun, but it holds a charm of its own. It has a compact, dark
trunk with slim branches holding several circles of leaves. The leaves
are dark green in maturity but have a tinge of yellow and red as they
emerge from the tiny nods on the branches. There is a mysterious
geometry alive in the presence of the tree. The trunk often splits
along straight lines, so does the subsidiary, smaller trunks, all
working to create a tough frame for smaller branches and leaves to
gather the sunlight. The leaves have sharp edges, the flowers are
dainty and white, and the berries, that emerge before the rains, are
tiny green bulbs as they form and then ripen into yellow, fleshy bulbs
which, just when the rains begin, spit out the tougher seeds to
sprout.
Neem evokes more respect as a store house of medicine than as a tree
of beauty. Its leaves are used in several medical preparations, its
bark and roots have their own medicinal utility, so does its berry and
flowers. In south India, flowers are used in cooking, and are
considered a good appetiser or cleanser. In Sanskrit, Neem is known as
Nimba, or the Bestower of health.
Till the other day, I did not know that the latin name of Neem is also
as much Indian. The latin name for Neem is Azadirachta indica—azadi
means freedom, dirakht means tree and indica refers to the Indian
origin. Neem is thus The Freedom Tree of India.
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