Botanical Tales : From Fog to Naga Tree Tomato.

Embarking on botanical adventures can be a bewitching journey, especially for officer trainees with non-botanical backgrounds. The verdant landscapes become a canvas of mysteries, each leaf concealing tales of resilience and adaptation. As these novices step into the realm of chlorophyll and photosynthesis, it's akin to unlocking the secrets of a wizard's spellbook. The language of flowers and the intricate dance of pollination unfold like ancient incantations, casting a spell of fascination on minds unfamiliar with the botanical arts. In this enchanted world, every plant becomes a magical creature, and the exploration of this green wizardry transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary for these officers in training.

Botanical names, with their Latin origins and intricate structures, may sound like mystical incantations. Trainees might find themselves chanting unfamiliar phrases, akin to reciting wizard spells, as they navigate through the enchanting realm of plant taxonomy.

During our introductory tour in Nagaland, Assam, and Arunachal Pradesh, we officer trainees encountered the Naga Tree Tomato, locally known as 'Sei Bangenuo.' Who knew tomatoes had lofty aspirations to become tree-dwellers?

With over 30 species worldwide, the Naga Tree Tomato also goes by the name 'Tamarillo.' Now, officer trainees not only had to remember the unexpected tomato tree facts but also a name that sounds like a whimsical tropical dance move.

Armed with puny sprouts of botanical knowledge, we face the mighty Rahman Sir, the arbiter of all things leafy and green. As he unleashes his barrage of tree botanical names, it feels like a horticultural hazing ritual gone wild. A trembling officer trainee attempts to impress Rahman Sir with a feeble naming effort, only to be met with an amused eyebrow raise from our arboreal overlord. The battlefield is fraught with mispronunciations and misidentifications. The camaraderie among officer trainees blossoms in shared exercise as we collectively face the challenges of a lifetime – trying to earn the nod of approval from the one and only Rahman Sir, the Sultan of Leaves, the Commander of Chlorophyll.

In the heart of Ranchi's Nakshatra Van, during our east India study tour in April month of last year, we found ourself captivated by the allure of the Khejri plant.

Upon seeing this Khejri tree in Ranchi, memories of a story related to Maharaja Raisingh's (reigned 1574-1612) encounter with the fog plant in the southern Deccan Plateau came rushing to mind. Calligonum polygonoides, locally known as fog/phog (Hindi: फोग), is a small shrub found in Thar desert areas.

The valiant ruler of Bikaner, dismounted from his horse, cradling the fog plant in his arms like a long-lost friend. Tears streaming down his face, Maharaja Raisingh questioned the plant's unexpected presence in a foreign land with genuine concern. "

"तू देसी है रुंखड़ो, म्है परदेसी लोग

म्हाने अकबर भेजिया, तू क्यूं आयो फोग"

"Hey, my dear fog! Akbar sent me here, and that's why I find myself in this foreign land, far away from my Marwar. But what on earth are you doing here, my brother? What's the purpose of your stay in this foreign territory?"

He uttered, as if the plant had embarked on an adventurous journey against its will.

A couplet echoed the essence: capturing the spirit of Marwar's landscape.

"फोग रो रायतो, काचरी रो साग बाजरी री रोटडी, जाग्या म्हारा भाग"

Such moments, be it in the royal history of Bikaner or the serene Nakshatra Van in Ranchi, underscore the profound connections between humans and the native flora that grace our surroundings. These instances underscore how our relationship with the plant kingdom is not only practical but also deeply embedded in our cultural and historical narratives.