It is the womb of the dark forest. No creature of Light ventures to these parts. It is a space that has been long forgotten within the memory sphere of mankind. Many millenia has gone by without the presence of humans, that the creatures of darkness lust for the warmth and blood of them. The very ground that has not seen a ray of sunshine in the last century, stirs up a bushel of leeches with just the hint of human warmth. If you find yourself by some strange misfortune in such an area of the forest, just call ‘Shringa’. If you smell the faint but unmistakable notes of sandalwood laced with the dark, wet fragrance of wolfsbane, He has heard you. That fragrance will also be the last you remember. Post that, you will wake up at the forest entrance, well-rested and safe, with a ray of evening sun warming your face.
Who is Shringa? Some call Him a Rishi, few a magician and some mountain tribes call him the Guardian of the Forest. There is not a herb He does not know, or an animal that knows not Him. Every woodcutter is watched and every poacher, followed. There is mention of this ancient being from the times of the Ramayana and the Great Mahabharatha. Human fantasy has woven umpteen stories around this strange Being of the Sacred Groves. Some call Him the son of a Doe, others mention in hushed tones that he is the result of the merging of a powerful Rishi with an apsara and yet another group talks about a Human raised without the presence of females.
Shringa is the heart of our groves. If you have ever stood at the entrance of a sacred grove and felt an eerie presence discouraging your entry, it is possibly with reason. Without Shringa, our Sacred Groves will have depleted due to man’s greed, our rivers would have dried and our animals, extinct. Do not be misled by the doe reference. If His animals or plants are hurt, He comes down so harshly on the miscreant, rumor has it that their blood washes the very floor of the forest He chooses to protect.
Himali, a 64 year old Assamese shaman lady has seem Shringa once. Collecting herbs for her potions, one dark and rainy night of November, Himali moved deeper into the Grove to stay dry. There, between rumbles of thunder and the glow of lightening, she saw the 9 ft tall Shringa, looking at her from beyond the trees. Their eyes met, an Himali felt strangely calm and joyous. She awoke the next morning at the entrance of the grove, well-rested and smelling faintly of sandalwood & Wolfsbane. What she wouldn’t give, to see Him again…