Born in a small village in Kerala, the Sarpa Kavu, where Sarpa means snake and Kavu refers to a miniature forest in Malayalam, became an integral part of my life. As a child, it was my first encounter with nature and the many life forms that thrived within it.
The sacred grove had a small temple that opened only on Sankranti. On other days, it remained undisturbed, becoming a refuge for bats. The mini forest’s floor was always bustling, where a spotted beetle roamed the undergrowth, emitting a strong, pungent odour when disturbed. If you placed your ear against the hollow trunk of a wild jackfruit tree on the grove’s periphery, you could also catch the soft rustling of a palm civet within. At night, the mini forest would echo with the hoots of owls. Elders believed that the owl, as the deity’s carrier and messenger, brought all kinds of good and bad messages, known only to those who understood its language.
Snakes were central to the grove. In fact, I often heard my grandmother speaking to a seven-foot rat snake that would poke its head out, scan its surroundings, and slither away after feeding on small animals near our home. She believed it had come for her. “Oh oho, I know. I have promised Amma a rooster, and I will offer it soon! It was only delayed because of money, forgive me!” she would say. The rat snake, oblivious to her words, would move along, leaving my Ammomma relieved.
Sacred groves like this exist across India under various names, Orans in Rajasthan, Devrais in Maharashtra, Devarakadu in Karnataka, and many more. Often located near perennial water sources, these groves are rich ecosystems, harbouring dense vegetation, including climbers, herbs, shrubs, and trees. They serve as natural gene banks, aiding the propagation of plant species, while also offering safe havens for birds and wildlife. Traditionally maintained by rural communities, these groves follow unwritten laws that forbid tree-cutting or even collecting dry wood.
Beyond their ecological significance, sacred groves play a cultural role—bringing communities together through festivals, rituals, and social gatherings. India is home to nearly 100,000 such groves, primarily in the Western Ghats, central India, and the Northeast. These forests stand as living testaments to the deep cultural, historical, and emotional bond between humans and nature.
Alongside family-maintained groves, some sacred sites house temples where deities are regularly worshipped. Among the most revered is the Mannarsala Sree Nagaraja Temple in Haripad, Alleppey, dedicated to Nagaraja (the serpent king) and Nagayakshi (the serpent goddess). One of the few well-preserved groves in southern Kerala, Mannarsala remains untouched and protected, its history intertwined with Kerala’s transformation from a saline wasteland into fertile land. Spiritual beliefs and religious practices played a crucial role in this ecological revival. Another remarkable grove is the Vallikkavu Grove in Chengannur, Alleppey, standing as a symbol of the region’s enduring reverence for nature.
Despite their significance, sacred groves are disappearing due to degradation and shifting attitudes. While policies and legal protections exist, conflicts often arise between local communities and governing authorities. Younger generations, disconnected from traditional beliefs, no longer follow the customs that once safeguarded these fragile ecosystems. Urbanization and development projects pose additional threats, underscoring the need to revive awareness of India’s age-old conservation methods.
Now, more than ever, we must tread gently upon the land, allowing nature to flourish as it was meant to. When we care for nature, it, in turn, takes care of us. As Chief Seattle once said: "Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every meadow, every humming insect. All are holy in the memory and experience of my people."