Of forest gods and herbal healing

As in all other forms of indigenous healing, the gathering of the special herbs have to be done at specified times of the day or night and under certain conditions

By Ransiri Menike Silva

Reminiscing about the past, a common pastime of old age, my mind went back to childhood and the numerous trips we had made during the school vacations with our historian-archaeologist father. Some of these were jungle treks which we enjoyed immensely as they were unusual experiences as well as educative.

Before crossing the border between civilization and wilderness, we would break off a twig and hang it on a vine strung across the trees as an offering to Ayya Nāyaka Deiyo to invoke his blessings for a safe trip. I do not know what my father’s view was on this ritual he indulged in dedicatedly, but my own was to consider it a highly amusing mythical indulgence. Now, with decades of personal experiences behind me, both normal and abnormal I waver on taking a firm stand one way or the other.

The belief in forest gods is one that is universally accepted, especially by those who have an affinity with the jungle in their daily lives, like collecting firewood, food and medicinal herbs. A god is a supreme being with powers, both good and bad, and the villagers know better than to defy one and expect to remain unharmed. ‘God’ is the spiritual guardian of all, whose wrath can be incurred by despoiling the environment around us, a grievous crime committed by man. On the other hand, if we respect it and care for it, we can reap much benefit.

A film I once watched on TV resulted in my considering this aspect seriously. I cannot now remember its title, but realised soon that it was a second rate film, badly produced by an unknown director, with hardly known actors and actresses. What enticed me to watch it was its intriguing authentic claim that it was based on true proven facts. I shall re-tell it (in my own words) for the benefit of others.

The central character in the story was a pre-teen boy (American?) who had been diagnosed with an incurable cancer and a predicted life-span of less than one year. He survived on medication and the devoted care of his widowed mother. His father, who had died a few years earlier had been keenly interested in butterflies, a love his son had pursued with equal dedication. The computer was his only window to the outside world as he was physically unable to attend school, and through it he kept himself up-dated on his hobby and other affairs.

In this way he made contact with a well-known professor, who was an expert on butterflies, thereby extending his knowledge. Their latest correspondence was regarding an extremely rare blue butterfly which the Professor was keen on adding to his collection.

One day, he informed the boy that this specimen had been spotted in the Amazon forest and he was going there to collect it. He would be away for an unpredictable length of time and would contact him on his return.

This news excited the boy who was keen on joining him on this expedition and requested that he be allowed to accompany him. This resulted in frenzied consultations with the boy’s mother, his doctors and all others connected with the trip. As the boy had very firmly indicated that this was a dying wish there was no option other than to oblige him.

So stocking up on medication, extra nourishment and other vital basic necessities, his mother accompanied him and the Professor, who had made all the necessary arrangements. They would stay in a remote jungle village, the nearest to the identified forest and after organizing the trip, would proceed from there.

On their arrival they settled in and organized the trip with the villagers. Here the boy made friends with a girl of about his own age, language being no barrier to juvenile communication, to whom he showed pictures of the blue butterfly, saying that he had come in search of it.

They set out the next morning with guides from the village to show them the way. When they reached the edge of the massive dark Amazonian forest, the guides halted, fearful of entering it. They pointed out an almost indiscernible trail disappearing into the undergrowth, and turned back.

Carrying with them only a net to trap the butterfly with and a large bottle to bring it back in, they set out enthusiastically. It was totally dark, the sun completely obscured by the over-head canopy of gigantic trees. The trail was no longer visible and they stumbled through the dense undergrowth, blind to everything other than each other and their quest. Their slow progress was hampered further by the giant roots and twisted lianas they encountered.

Then, suddenly, they fell into a deep abyss with no end. But unexpectedly and abruptly their plunge was halted. It was impenetrably dark all around, and after the first stunned moments they realized that they had landed on a broad ledge. Reaching out they contacted each other, and were luckily able to talk.

It turned out that the Professor had fractured his arm and was almost immovable with pain. But his senses were intact, and he made plans. They could dimly discern lianas and hanging roots dangling above them within reach, and he instructed the boy to scramble up them to the top and make his way to the village somehow to get help. This the boy achieved with some difficulty and shouting down to reassure the Professor he set out.

The boy could not say whether it was night or day. Impossibly, tracing the path they had come along, he stumbled on blindly. Hungry, thirsty and exhausted, and unable to proceed, he lay down in the undergrowth to rest.

He did not know how long he rested there, but in time he felt himself totally wrapped by some external force. He lay enmeshed by this strange feeling, for how long he could not say, and then felt a gradual easing of the ‘bonds’ binding him. On his complete release he felt rejuvenated in some inexplicable way, and was able to go back to the village without difficulty.

[This episode was crudely and wrongfully depicted in the film. It showed the boy frightened and held captive by menacing forces, with the trees closing down upon him accompanied by eerie noises. An incompetent director’s attempt at dramatizing, I believe]

Hearing the boy’s story activated the villagers. Leaving him in the care of the womenfolk, they set out to rescue the Professor. They carried axes, machetes, flares, food, and drink and a make-shift stretcher. They made a lot of noise in order to scare away the dangerous wild animals lurking in the bushes, and finally succeeded in rescuing the stranded professor.

After resting the boy had a happy re-union with his new friend who had a surprise gift for him – the much-sought-after blue butterfly in a bottle! It had flown into the village after their departure and she had trapped it for him.

All missions duly accomplished, ‘The Hunters of the Blue Butterfly’ and their entourage were transported, first to the nearest hospital and then back home. At his next clinical examination, set immediately after his return, the results of the tests stunned all the doctors, consultants and specialists, the cancer had vanished completely!

What had caused this mysterious inexplicable occurrence? Overcoming cancer and other terminal illnesses through religious devotion, irrespective of faith, and also meditation has been medically recorded and publicised even by some of our own countrymen. But this very young boy had not indulged in such mature exercises, which would have been far beyond his understanding, and the solution appears to be elusive.

Allow me to indulge in some private speculation. The first is his exposure to the healing vegetation that abounds in a forest. The second is the healing power of the Amazonian Forest God, our own Ayya Nāyaka Deiyo, extended to the innocent child.

The first calls to mind a story or legend I had read regarding a village in the unchartered Indian-Nepalese territory. This was on the edge of the jungle into which the villagers trekked for gathering of fire-wood, fresh water, food as well as to pasture their goats whom they took along with them.

One day a goat stumbled and fell, and the master, to his dismay, found that it had fractured a leg and was unable to proceed. Turning back was unthinkable, so he made a comfortable bed out of the surrounding vegetation, which would also serve as fodder, laid it to rest there, tethered to a nearby bush, to prevent him from sliding down the slope.

On his return at dusk the master was amazed to find the animal standing upright, his fracture completely healed! Collecting the goat along with a bundle of the leaves it had rested on, he returned to the village with his story. This discovery resulted in the use of this particular herb in the healing of fractures by practitioners of the Ayurvedic School of healing that is in use even today. Legend or fact – who knows?

The other is a personal experience. Many decades ago I was undergoing a course of acupuncture at the Ayurvedic Research Centre in Navinna, inaugurated by our farsighted Prime Minister of the time, S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike. It was then a small place with only two wards, one for each gender. The rest were OPD patients like me and another lady getting oil massages for acute arthritis.

We would sit out in the open verandah chatting and comparing notes as we awaited our vehicles. We faced an extensive garden dotted with medicinal trees, shrubs, creepers and other medical herbs. The gentle breezes wafting towards us from them were soothing, not only to the body but the mind as well. We both, individually, found the experience beneficial in more ways than one, and as I realized years later, much longer lasting than the treatment I had received there.

Also at Navinna I witnessed an almost miraculous result of Ayurvedic treatment. Walking around the ward was a skinny little girl chatting happily with the patients as she followed the nurses on their ward rounds. But she would scream out in pain each time she had her daily oil massage. I commented on this to a nurse and she told me this fantastic story.

“You know madam, when this child was brought to us she was a bundle of twisted limbs, just like a crumpled up dead spider. After several years of treatment see what we have achieved. She is due to be discharged in a few months.” Miraculous indeed!

During British rule they effectively stamped out our indigenous medical system from the towns, but it continued to be practiced in other parts of the country, even among the educated middle class. My mother’s persistent Amoebiasis which could not be handled by practitioners of Western medicine, was completely cured by a well-known Vedamahaththaya of Piliyandala.

I also personally know a relative who was once discharged by the Government Hospital as he had been completely paralyzed after a stroke and considered incurable. However, after several years of treatment from a famed ‘Veda Gedara’ he is now leading a normal life, with only a walking stick to aid him. His speech too was very coherent as he spoke to me about one year ago.

The grandmother of another friend had been an Ayurvedic eye-specialist, who would perform cataract removals without surgery on a fully conscious patient, having placed a pot of smoking herbs under the bed as an anesthetic. Sadly, she says, none of her descendants were interested in pursuing her skills and they are lost to the family forever. I have heard of this identical procedure being practiced by a Vedamahaththaya in Maradana who lived across the road from our family doctor (Western!)

Although acupuncture treatment had been reintroduced to our country by medical practitioners who had learnt it in China, Japan and Korea, research had shown that we too had possessed the knowledge in olden times. In fact, ours had been far superior to the ‘imported’, for it can treat only man. Researches have unearthed parchment records with ‘illustrations’ indicating the exact point the needles should be inserted, in two different sets, one for men and other for animals. I saw these displayed at a lecture by one of the researchers who is a reputed practitioner of our local school of acupuncture.

In Ayurvedha, the basic guiding principle is free service, and this rule is followed faithfully by the genuine Ayurvedic physicians, though not by the many frauds now prevalent in society, same as in any other field. To act otherwise is considered a desecration of the sacred skill one has been blessed with, resulting in the ‘culprit’ gradually losing his or her powers. Very appreciative of this Nobel attitude grateful patients donate what they can in cash or kind, for the development and upkeep of the clinic, which the Vedamahathmaya does not handle personally but delegates a deputy to do so on his behalf.

Ayurvedic treatment is a slow process involving diet and other connected conditions the patient has to follow, and is permanent. It involves no damaging side effects as in Western medicine, which is quick. It is not a form of general medication as each patient’s condition is diagnosed and treated individually.

As in all other forms of indigenous healing, the gathering of the special herbs have to be done at specified times of the day or night and under certain conditions. This is the accepted practice in all forms of indigenous healing that had been adhered to, not only in the East but the entire world, and is on historical record.

There was a renowned local Vedamahathmaya whose speciality was healing fractures. His work was revealed to the public in a TV series. In it he described how he had treated a human bone that had been crushed beyond repair by a nasty accident. So he took the relevant part of the bone from a goat and joined it to the human one – and it was a total success! The X-rays taken during the various stages of healing were shown on TV.

His descendants still follow his line of healing but I doubt whether they are as competent as their late father. A vital subject to Ayurveda is astrology. The following episode was related to my husband in my presence by one of his junior officers. His wife had been cancer-stricken and suffered intensely, despite western medical treatment. In desperation he decided to consult a renowned Vedamahathmaya in the outstations. When his turn came he walked into the consulting room, but before he could speak, the Vedamahathmaya said him, “You have come regarding your wife’s illness. I am sorry I cannot cure her as she is too grievously affected by it.” The man was shocked and he inquired how he had known what he had come for. The reply stunned him. “It was the way in which you entered my room that act gave away all the signals.” Giving a time frame for her final release, he gifted some medicine to ease her discomfort, a strange story indeed.

I too had a similar experience once, but not in connection with medicine. I had gone, as a representative of another party to obtain the auspicious times for a wedding, to a reputed astrologer living close by. The old man looked at me keenly and asked, “Why have you come? Is it not the responsibility of the other party involved?” and I had not yet told him that it was regarding a date for a wedding! Maybe the signs I had exhibited on entering the room had betrayed my intentions.

With such authentic episodes on record how can any layman scoff at the existence of gods and demons? To do so harkens the popular saying, “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.”