Tea and coffee plantations in southern India encroach on Indigenous Peoples’ ways of life and territories, threatening the protection of their sacred groves.
WORDS AND IMAGES Lakshmi Unnithan
A sacred grove of koli trees (Ficus spp.) in the Nilgiris.
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Are our modern temples different from sacred groves?
Sacred groves are patches of trees on forestland, representations and remains of what forests used to be once upon a time. As elsewhere in the world, Indigenous (Adivasi) communities in the Nilgiri district of Tamil Nadu, South India, protect these spaces of worship with religious zeal. Before the communities could realize it, however, their forests and many sacred groves (locally known as kaavu) were taken over with drastic land-use changes and the expansion of industrial, intensive agriculture. Even in the face of this appropriation, whatever groves do remain are the last strongholds that the communities resist encroachment on, despite often lacking proper ownership documentation and only having the de facto “ownership” of living on the land. Many are government-owned patta lands — parcels of land granted to individuals or communities that can’t be sold yet remain at the mercy of the government, with no secure land tenure.
The Indigenous communities of the Gudalur Forest Division in the Nilgiris witnessed a huge loss of their ancestral domain with the influx of immigrants from Kerala in the 1960s and Tamil repatriates from Sri Lanka in the 1980s. As new settlers arrived, forests started getting converted into tea and coffee plantations. Today, the Forest Division, which sits between the Mudumalai Tiger Reserve and Mukurthy National Park, is a typical “matrix habitat” with large tea and coffee estates and a considerable number of small agricultural holdings.
The sacred groves of Gudalur are the last surviving remnants of forest amid plantations and are suggestive of the kind of vegetation that once existed in the region.
The Gudalur valley is home to four distinct Adivasi (Indigenous) communities: Mullu Kurumba, Betta Kurumba, Kattunayakan, and Paniya. For the Mullu Kurumba and the Betta Kurumba, their sacred spaces are located inside the forest and are not classified as sacred groves. The Paniya have sacred groves where they worship their deities. The Kattunayakan have their deities in both sacred groves and temples. It seems that the worship of trees began due to their long life and their being considered the abode of supreme beings.
Kumaran, from the Kattunayakan community, and snake nests.
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The fruit of the wild Indian almond tree (Sterculia foetida) found in a sacred grove.
From an ecological perspective, the sacred groves of Gudalur are the last surviving remnants of forest amid plantations and are suggestive of the kind of vegetation that once existed in the region. Indian trees like wild Indian almond, (Sterculia foetida), koli (Ficus spp.), and frangipani (Plumeria alba), as well as climbers like glory-bower (Clerodendrum inerme), are found there. The trees most commonly found in the kaavus include koli, atthi (Ficus racemosa), aal (Ficus religiosa), chela (Ficus drupacea), thani (Terminalia bellirica), aini (Artocarpus hirsutus), edala (Olea dioica), panam (Caryota urens), manga (Mangifera indica), pilavu (Artocarpus heterophyllus), and kanaigal (Plumeria rubra).
‘Before tea and other plantations came into the picture, the space around the sacred trees was entirely forested.’
K. T. Subramaniam, the Secretary of Adivasi Munnetra Sangham, an Indigenous Peoples’ activist organization in Gudalur, says, “Forests, along with the kaavus of the Paniyas and Kattunayakans are now reduced to a few trees and deities at the base of the trees in areas of merely two to ten cents in surface [about 80 to 405 square meters; 1 cent = 40.46 square meters]. Most of the kaavus are now found in common land or near the land of the Karanavar [respected Elder in the community] or are even located within the villages in which tribal families live. There was no concept of a ‘boundary’ for kaavus earlier on since the groves were inside a forest. In other words, before tea and other plantations came into the picture, the space around the sacred trees was entirely forested. Single trees or assemblages of trees acted as shelters for Adivasi deities, and people got together in the space around the sacred trees to sing and dance and celebrate. When plantations started, this space began to be reduced. According to the Karanavar, the space has shrunk so much, affecting people’s ability to get together, that they describe the space as ‘encroached upon.’”
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The sun shone brightly as our group (my family and I, accompanied by K. T. Subramaniam, Jayachandran, a village leader from Kundolikadavu, and Chandran, a staff member from the hospital in Gudalur) drove across the Western Ghats, walked up the mountains, and crossed paddy fields to explore life in the territories of the Paniyas and Kattunayakans and meet the custodians of their sacred groves. These sacred groves are all found at a considerable distance from the main villages, in virtually inaccessible locations at higher elevations, surrounded by forests and mountains; most of them require long hikes, a climb up mountains, and a walk into the surrounding forests, although some are surrounded by tea estates. Mountains are visible from the worship places.
The tribal village (or “colony”) we visited in Gudalur had some areas set aside for worship, but these have shrunk considerably compared to the past. We wondered whether traditional knowledge is getting lost through the disappearance of sacred groves, worshipped trees being cut down, festivals being discontinued, and lamps no longer being lit in spaces that were once held in utmost reverence.
Unlit lamps in a sacred grove.
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Jayachandran, a village leader from Kundilkadavu, standing in a sacred grove.
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The sacred groves of the Paniyas used to have many roughly sculpted stones representing female and male deities, which were kept under the trees in areas still frequented by wild animals. Today, most of the groves are completely neglected, looking like patches of forest and cleared only once a year for festivities. As the forests gave way to tea and coffee plantations, most of these patches are now measured in mere cents in surface. Some of the groves have been demarcated by the Forest Department or by the local panchayats (village councils), but their boundaries remain flexible. Some of the trees that were considered sacred were cut when plantations took over the region.
Kuttikrishnan from Ambalappadi village, who is a Karanavar of Paniya Sacred Grove, says, “Trees are a manifestation of nature that represents life and sacred continuity of the spiritual, cosmic, and physical worlds. Paniya society’s religious beliefs about the kind of trees that are sacred generally depend on the nature and number of trees found in the territory. If trees are plentiful, the forest as a whole will also be part of the religion’s spiritual beliefs and rituals. Deities like Gulikan and Thamburatti are placed at the base of the trees. But along with trees we worship wind, rain, moon, sun, and all animals on earth.”
‘Trees are a manifestation of nature that represents life and sacred continuity of the spiritual, cosmic, and physical worlds.’
Chemguttuvan, also a Karanavar of Paniyar Sacred Grove from Ambalappadi village, claims, “Every year we clean this place and have a celebration here for a day. We have dances and songs. Most of the Elders passed away during COVID-19 times, and much of the information hasn’t been passed on to the next generation. Hence the origin and history of kaavus and the associated festivals and ceremonies aren’t known in detail to us.”
During the last couple of decades, there has been a perceptible loss of religious and protective sentiment toward these groves among local people. Modern Hinduism, modern temples, idol worship, and religious conversions are all influencing factors among the tribes. This has had a negative effect on biodiversity, although there is no evidence that these areas were maintained for biodiversity conservation. And indeed, when asked about conservation, community members had no idea. But the point is that almost all the trees had berries much liked by birds and other small creatures, and as long as the vegetation was thick, many animals large and small frequented the place.
Kumar, another Karanavar from the Paniya Sacred Grove, says, “The Paniya Sacred Grove in Ponnani, on the side of the road near the Ponnani River, which is common land now, was a forest many years back, but it was reduced to a mere few cents when the Tamils began encroaching on the land. It consists of a cluster of koli trees and some stone deities, like the goddess Mariamma, under the trees in the backyard of some houses. But it’s not desirable for a sacred grove to be in the backyard of houses. Sanctified spaces of forest vegetation provide sanctuary for spirits, honor deities, and remind present generations of their ancestors. There are fewer sanctified places, and there is no end to destruction and encroaching. The thought of a space being sacred doesn’t deter anybody from destruction. Nevertheless, religious ceremonies and dance and music take place once a year, and until that time this place remains untouched like a forest.”
The Paniya community’s sacred stones representing female and male deities.
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Kunjamma, Karanavar of Paniya Sacred Grove from Ammankavu village, points out, “The thick forest has disappeared, the trees have been cut down, and coffee estates have been established. The grove has been reduced to about twenty cents [810 square meters], which has been demarcated by the Forest Department, since the adjoining area is under forest.”
Karuppan, Koima (traditional Elder) of Paniya Sacred Grove from Ammankavu village, notes, “Most kaavus are in the middle of tea or coffee or areca nut plantations owned by non-Adivasi. There are a few in big estates like Woodbriar and Parry Agro that have massively encroached upon land subject to hereditary property rights on which we do not own any patta.”
Prajitha, a social researcher from the Paniya Tribe in Mananthavady village, Wayanad district, says, “Not enough could be done to protect the Paniya kaavus from encroachment. In many cases, the Paniyas have tried talking to the non-Adivasi who own the plantations to leave at least a single tree for their deities and people. Most often, this has been ignored.”
‘Sanctified spaces of forest vegetation provide sanctuary for spirits, honor deities, and remind present generations of their ancestors.’
“Since my husband passed away,” says Soba, Karanavar, “I have been the Karanavar of Chemban Colony, Thondiyalam village. Chemban Colony had its main worship spaces inside the tea plantations, but the plantation had them removed and prevented us from entering the place.”
“The Paniya Sacred Grove in Chemban Colony,” mentions Kumaran, Karanavar from Chemban Colony, Thondiyalam, “has two stone structures, and people celebrate kaavu pujas [worship ceremonies] there. A few meters down the hills from the colony, a plumeria and a jackfruit tree grow together on common land at the edge of the plantation, and figurines representing gods have been placed at the base of the trees. The trees are close to the plantation’s fields, and we are afraid they may be removed due to further plantation development in the near future.”
Lakshmi Unnithan with community members coming back from the mystical realm of the Paniya Sacred Grove in Chemban Colony, Gudalur, toward the tea plantations, which threaten its very existence.
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A thara (raised platform) in a sacred grove, where various deities of the land are invoked to give their blessings.
Among the Kattunayakans, sacred groves were located right next to the house of the Karanavars. The Kattunayakan kaavus have a kovil (temple) next to them, which is not the case among the Paniyas. A few kaavus are inside Mudumalai Tiger Reserve and are sacred to many Kattunayakans. People do not go to these older kaavus anymore, however.
Maaran, Karanavar of Pakkana village, says, “The sacred grove has been here since my grandparents’ time. Conversion of land use has happened here, but we have resisted the encroachment on this space. The sacred grove shares a boundary with a tea plantation. We renewed this boundary two years back, and a new thara [a raised stone platform on which ceremonial offerings are placed] was built in the kaavu. Work is very sporadic — we get two or three days’ work a week in the estates or some other work in the fields nearby. We occasionally gather forest products for our consumption, and as we travel through and out of the plantations and the nearby forests, we also regularly collect honey from the forest. These days, we do not hunt animals.”
The process of starting kaavus is ongoing. New kaavus are more common among the Kattunayakans, and many deities are scattered under the trees. Two new tharas, as well as stone deities and lamps, are part of the new kaavus. Maintaining kaavus and the related ceremonies and festivals is a challenge, however — not only because of encroachment but also for economic reasons.
Kumaran, the Karanavar of Kattunayaka Sacred Grove in Pakkana village, remarks, “Kaavu pujas had not been celebrated for many years due to financial constraints. In the Kattunayakan village of Pakkana, the roof of the kovil was damaged some years ago, and the puja was not performed for nearly five years. Three years ago, a team from ACCORD [a Gudalur-based NGO], which was working in the area, got involved and arranged some funds for the roof.”
Reverence abounds in the Kattunayaka Sacred Grove.
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Gopi from the Paniya Tribe in Mananthavady village, Wayanad district says, “That festivals were discontinued does not imply that their cultural and spiritual significance was declining. Money is a problem — we often cannot afford even a single meal, so where do we find money to buy oil for lighting a lamp every day at the kaavu?”
Such is the plight of the Paniyas and Kattunayakans. Most of them live below the poverty level.
We continued to explore the area but could not gather historical information about many of the kaavus. We realized, however, that there a lot of traditional knowledge is associated with the sacred groves and acknowledged our limitations in not being able to understand and document all of it.
A lot of traditional knowledge is associated with the sacred groves.
With no formal protection whatsoever for the sacred groves of the Paniyas and the Kattunayakans in Gudalur, it remains to be seen how these groves will be preserved in the years to come. At the current pace of encroachment, they face the threat of complete loss and destruction. Is this fate acceptable to the community? Not really, our study suggests. The fight to preserve them will go on.
The unity among community members is a start and has already existed when issues have erupted in the past. Legal or formal backing from the government for the protection of these groves could make the case stronger. These groves are indeed the last surviving remains of the forest vegetation that existed before plantations.
As the realization of the economic value of every cent of land continues to grow among both Adivasi and non-Adivasi, the future of the sacred groves is uncertain. In addition, there also is a strong influence of the dominant Hindu religious values on the Adivasi community. Photos of Hindu gods and goddesses in Adivasi homes and attendance to Hindu festivals are now commonplace. It is hard to say whether the cultural values associated with the sacred groves will continue to be as strong in future generations as they were before. Only time will tell.
An altar made by Paniya tribal children in their village.
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“The sacred grove in Dwaraka, Wayanad district, was earlier inside the forest,” says Onan, a Paniya Karanavar. The kaavu he was referring to was on top of a hill inside the forest. Once the Elders in the family passed away, people moved the gods to their village. “Our grandparents,” he continues, “used to live in that forest. When we move, we call our gods to come and live with us closer to our new settlements. We call this god Bhagavathi, but there are other gods here as well under the trees. All of this was a forest when I was growing up.”
The future of the sacred groves is uncertain.
Onan’s earliest memory of the kaavu was of it being in the forest, and that was how he would always remember it. The forest is disappearing. What will remain of this and other kaavus in Gudalur in a few years is hard to predict.
The Paniya and other tribes consider the whole forest sacred and enspirited. Traditionally, places of worship and community gathering were inside the forest. Now that the forests are diminishing and plantations are being established, worship spaces are reduced to a single tree and some stone shrines below it.
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Lakshmi Unnithan is an agriculture professional and an independent researcher in sustainability, agriculture, and food and food systems in relation to climate change. With a Doctorate in Agriculture, she has been working for more than a decade with farmers at the grassroots on many issues including farming, organic food, and health.
