South Dovani

[Wu Han]

Sacred Bodhi Tree Withers as Public Debates: Scientific Anomaly or Spiritual Omen?
September 5644
By Chaiya Kittikorn

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As the monsoon clouds of the rainy season begin to recede and the Sangha returned from their seasonal retreat to prepare for Wan Ok Phansa, a chilling sight awaited them at Wat Srimahabodhi Suan Kao in Udon Nakhon. While most of the city is covered in a tapestry of deep emerald foliage, the temple's sacred Bodhi tree and crown jewel, the Srimahabodhi Suriyan ("Auspicious Bodhi of the Sun") stands barren and has turned a ghostly white.

Located on the eastern bend of the Suan Kao river, Wat Srimahabodhi Suan Kao is not the largest nor the most important temple to Hanzai Daenists, however its significance is deeply tied to state power. The temple was founded in the 4800s by King Chakraphan (the son and successor to King Khemkhaeng) who was said to have discovered a small, struggling Bodhi sapling clinging to the mud during a year of terrible floods. Instead of moving it, the King built the temple around it, symbolically dedicating both the temple and his reign to the veneration of "merit over might." The King is famously quoted as saying that "the strength of the crown lies not in the sword but in the righteous shade the King provides for his people."

The Srimahabodhi Suriyan is the living descendant of that sapling, and has historically been regarded as a palladium of state authority, legitimacy, and integrity, such that even the leaders of the communist era publicized their visits to, and patronage of, the Wat Srimahabodhi Suan Kao. Growing up near the temple, my grandmother used to say that when the tree is lush, both the spirit of the King and the Bodhita are satisfied with the rulers of the nation and the intentions in their heart; when it withers, it means that the hearts of our leaders have withered too.

Today, the sacred tree's heart-shaped leaves, usually a shimmering canopy of life, have either fallen or turned a translucent, almost spectral white. The phenomenon has triggered a frantic response from the Ministry of Environment, which has dispatched a large team of arborists, researchers, and other scientists from the nation's leading universities and institutes to the Wat Srimahabodhi Suan Kao to uncover the cause of the tree's malady. According to the team's lead researcher, Dr. Somsak Sirisopa of Khemkhaeng University, the tree is suffering from hypoxia, with deep root rot having been caused by rapid urban development around the temple site and the resulting changes to the area's groundwater.

"The tree cannot breathe," said Dr. Somsak at a national press conference. "The groundwater in the area has become stagnant and polluted, with water from poorly maintained sewer pipes and other run-off seeping deep into the soil. Pollution in the Suan Kao river is also a significant factor."

Dr. Somsak was careful to not provide a conclusive finding as to whether the Srimahabodhi Suriyan would live or die, likely given the political, social, and economic fallout such words could produce in the fragile environment of South Dovani society today. In response to Dr. Somsak's report, opposition figures have called for resignations in the Ministry of Environment, as well as the Udon Nakhon municipal government, while the UNX Composite Index fell 23 points by the end of the press conference.

The Prime Minister's office released a statement, pledging "all necessary state resources" in protecting the tree, and work has reportedly already begun in excavating and cleaning the soil, and erecting subterranean barriers around the roots of the tree. Now, for the first time in history, the tree has been hidden from the public, shrouded behind a newly erected wall surrounding the temple complex. Police are stationed around the perimeter in shifts covering all hours of the day. This forced separation has only deepened the public’s anxiety.

To the rational mind, this entire case is one of clear municipal mismanagement, environmental degradation, and policy failure. Yet, standing near the newly erected walls intended to shield the public from the sight of the mighty yet barren tree, the scientific and policy-based explanation feels incomplete. The sight calls our attention to the teaching that abundance without merit is simply a different form of drought. The tree is drowning not in water, but in the lack of the righteous shade which King Chakraphan spoke of.

Yesterday, I was walking outside the temple, contemplating the significance and meaning behind this phenomenon. I came upon an elderly monk sitting at a nearby park hugging the Suan Kao river, watching the churning, murky water. I greeted him and we began talking. His name was Luang, a man who has served Wat Srimahabodhi Suan Kao for fifty years, his face a map of more than a half a century of devotion.

"I have seen droughts that cracked the earth and floods that have swallowed houses. I have seen the people in good times and bad. But the tree has never turned the colour of a hungry ghost. It is a sorrowful sight."

A tear traced a path through the wrinkles on his cheek as we spoke. We both gazed back at the river, sharing a moment of silence before the monk continued.

"Everything is like this water, child" Luang spoke softly, gesturing to the heavy, silt-laden current of the river, swollen from monsoon rains. "Our world, our Republic, our happiness, our sorrow... all is but a lump of foam drifting on the surface of a great stream such as this. It arises, it swirls, it splashes, and it vanishes."

"We cling to the present moment as if it were as permanent as a mountain, but even mountains cannot withstand the river's current," continued the elder monk, "but look at the water: when the stream becomes stagnant and the air thick, even the most ancient roots will recoil. They are waiting, as we all are, for the waters to clear, for only then can the reflection of the Sun be seen again."

The monk rose and I knelt before him. He looked me directly in the eyes with a piercing gaze: "We can try to stop the flow of the water. We can build dams and walls of stone and iron, but they too will rot and crumble away given enough time. The tree will not be saved by washing its leaves. We must remove the source of the rot so all the elements can be in balance once more. Only then can new shoots emerge."

I bowed deeply as the monk departed, watching him as he walked serenely along the river until his saffron robes vanished from my sight. I lingered on his words for a moment longer while watching the torrid and tempestuous Suan Kao river. What thoughts, actions, and habits must we get rid of, before the current of our history once more runs clear? What will it take for this beloved land to once again feel the warm reflection of the Sun?

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Chai Jai (ใจใจ, "Head/Heart") is a monthly Daenist magazine published in South Dovani. The magazine is non-profit, though it receives a substantial annual endowment from the Jantarapong family.