ARYA KARPE
THE GOAN I PANAJI
Every year, on Vat Pournima, several Hindu women make their way to the nearest banyan tree, threads in hand, prayers ready, and a belief that this ritual will prolong their husbands’ lives. And every year, I see my father tease my mother, “Do you really think walking around a tree is going to keep me alive?” To which she just smiles and simply replies, “Everyone has their own faith and beliefs.”
Celebrated on the full moon of the Hindu month of Jyeshtha, Vat Pournima, which is being observed tomorrow, is a festival observed by married Hindu women who fast and pray for the long life and prosperity of their husbands. At the heart of it is the banyan tree, a witness to a love story old enough to be myth.
THE LEGEND OF SAVITRI
According to the legend in the epic Mahabharata, Prince Satyavan collapsed in the forest while splitting wood and laid his head in his wife Savitri’s lap beneath a banyan tree, where Yama, the God of Death, came to claim his soul. Refusing to accept this, Savitri followed Yama, argued with him, and through sheer devotion, wit and will, won her husband’s life back. The banyan tree, a witness to the prince’s death and return, became sacred. And so, the tradition began – women circling the tree, tying threads, asking for what Savitri once fought for.
Centuries later, that tradition lives on. In Goa, the festival is also known as Vada Poonav. The celebration brings women together at banyan trees across neighbourhoods and temples. For women who cannot access a banyan tree, sticks from the tree are sold in local markets around this time. With a small branch and a picture depicting the tale, the ritual continues at home today.
MORE THAN A SACRED TREE
But beyond the ritual, the banyan itself carries a history far older than the festival. Asst Professor in History, Kapila Chodankar, says, “People have often gathered under trees for festivals, meetings or simply to rest. They remind us that our heritage is not found only in buildings and documents but also in the landscapes around us.” For generations, the banyan’s sprawling shade has served as a central open-air meeting place in villages, usually for local administration, community gatherings and celebrations.
The banyan does not merely serve as a backdrop to this ritual. It is also, in many ways, the reason why the ritual makes sense. As a keystone species, the banyan tree sustains entire ecosystems within its canopy. Its sprawling shade cools the air beneath it, absorbing carbon dioxide and thus purifying the air. A feature it’s often recognised by, its aerial roots anchor the soil, preventing erosion. Its figs feed birds and animals, while its bark, leaves and roots have been used in traditional medicine for centuries. For years, long before the term ecology was coined, communities that worshipped the banyan were, in effect, protecting it. The ritual was, quietly, simply conservation.
FAITH AND CONSERVATION
But can faith alone sustain a tree in the 21st century? Chodankar reflects, “The strength of Vat Pournima lies in the fact that it combines both a cultural tradition and respect for nature. Such traditions always encourage us to think about protecting both our cultural heritage and our natural heritage.” Yet the question lingers: if the religious element were stripped away and Vat Pournima was viewed purely as an environmental act, would women still worship the banyan tree? Would the tree still be revered for what it gives, rather than the tale it carries?
A QUESTION THAT REMAINS
The answer, perhaps, lies in a recent case from Porvorim. A 200-year-old banyan, with a deity seated within it, sparked protests and a High Court battle when it stood in the way of a six-lane elevated corridor on NH66. It was uprooted anyway, sawed into sections and moved because the state lacked the infrastructure to carry it whole. The tree has been translocated to a site between the Guirim junction and Socorro Tisk. Its sacred status, in the end, was quietly set aside.
What the Porvorim banyan left behind was not just a stump, but a question for us to ponder – if we worship the tree one day a year and look away the rest of the year, what are we actually protecting? Whether it survives us depends on more than a thread tied once a year.
