Plants of India: Champa
Sona Champa-Sacred Flower of India
by Christopher McMahon
Mother mine, to the wild forest I am going,
Where upon the champa boughs the champa buds are blowing;
To the ksil-haunted river-isles where lotus lilies glisten,
The voices of the fairy folk are calling me: O listen1
---Sarojini
Naidu, The Golden Threshold
Part 1: Intrigue of Champa
 Several
years ago, while studying about the exotic flowers of the East I came across
a reference to one called golden champa. The name itself had a strong appeal
for me and I became interested in uncovering whatever information I could
on the plant. Further research revealed that the delicate flower possessed
a rich, ethereal odor that was much prized by the people of India. The tree
upon which it grew had glossy green leaves and towered to height of 100
feet in a pyramidical shape. When the tree was in bloom, covered with thousands
of golden fragrant blossoms, it was said to be a sight of rare and equisite
beauty. The people of India held the tree in such high esteem that it was
often planted near temples and ashrams where its color, form and fragrance
could be enjoyed by people coming into those refined enviroments. Women
loved to place the closed buds in their lusterous black hair and in the
course of the day, the flowers would open releasing their divine fragrance
both for the individual to enjoy as well as those in the immediate enviroment.
A perfume was also made from the delicate blossoms that was said to have
notes of orange-flower, ylang-ylang, and tea rose. Each new piece of information
intrigued me more, and I became determined to see the tree for myself and
to inhale its divine odor.
In 1995 I had the opportunity to visit the Bangalore area where I came
in contact with Mr. Philip Samuel, Director of Indfrag Aromatics, a progressive
company involved with the distillation of essential oils and extraction
of floral absolutes. One of his specialties was Champa Absolute. He was
kind enough to take me to a rural district where the champa flower was just
coming into bloom. Our road wound through quiet villages and past small
farms until we came to a place where he had the car halt. We got out and
walked through well-kept fields until we came to a small grouping of lovely
tall champa trees. The species he showed me was the white variety, Michelia
alba. Looking at the tree, which were at least 60 feet in height and at
the base perhaps 40 feet in width, I could not help but wonder how the villagers
could collect the numerous delicate flowers that graced the tree. He said
that they were adepts at moving about on bamboo ladders as well as climbing
on the interior of the tree and could collect the majority of flowers in
this way. A few creamy white flowers were within our reach and weplucked
them so I could enjoy the exquisite scent of the flower that had such a
strong attraction for me. As I inhaled its odor, I tried to perceive what
its essential characteristics were. It had a diffusive warmth that was easy
to draw in. Its overall bouquet was definitely exotic and mysterious. Mingled
its sweet floral essence was a tinge of rich spiciness that gave the overall
fragrance a complexity that is rare in the realm of aromatic botanicals.
The effect it had on me was uplifting, intoxicating and ethereal. It brought
to mind images of people entering in the inner sanctuary of an ancient temple
and sitting quietly where their minds were filled with the richness of some
inner understanding that was timeless and spaceless.
Standing beneath these sacred trees in the midst of a part of India that
has remained little changed for thousands of years, I understood why it
was so important for me to have actually made the journey to that place.
The entire atmosphere conveyed something which just was not possible to
get from any book. A small farm house stood nearby, where the simple rural
folk went about the activities of their daily lives. Bullocks were tethered
near the trees where we stood and they quietly munched on their pile of
hay. A gentle breeze blew through the trees as we enjoyed the simple sites,
sounds and smells around us. We had stepped out of the 20th century into
a place where nature and humans still interacted in an intimate way. Permeating
that simple place was the spirit of a land whose people that have worshipped,
in a multitude of ways, the grand mystery of life for thousands of years.
An intregal part of their worship has been the perfect gifts with which
the plant world has provided them in the form of exotic flowers, aromatic
spices, earthy roots, fresh herbs, and precious woods. For some reason the
land of India has possessed and continues to possess an astonishing range
of such aromatic botanicals and in each part of the country the people have
used them to symbolically express their love and devotion for that Hidden
Power that is the source of their life. When one holds a lovely champa flower
in their hand they can easily understand what a powerful bridge of communication
this is between the seen and unseen world. The perfect form, color and fragrance
of the flower so beautifully expresses the high aspirations that are concealed
within the human heart. The delicate flower with its fine shape and color
are like the human body in which the spirit dwells. When the first gentle
rays of the sun alight upon the delicate blossom it gives up its perfume
so that the enviroment in which it dwells is bathed with its delicatable
fragrance. In the same way when the sun of spirituality awakens in a persons
heart the good qualities flow out as a natural blessing upon the world in
which they live. In the Indian mind, this world of metaphor, symbolism,
and simile is vibrantly alive as a living power and that is why these ancient
aromatic traditions have so much meaning. I felt very grateful that Mr.
Samuels had introduced me to that place where I could once again imbibe
a little of the precious gift of spirituality which has been part of India's
heritage for many millenia.
 This
experience increased my interest in the champa tree and its flower and my
next exposure to it came on a visit to Bombay in July 1997. This was the
beginning of its bloom season in the coastal areas and one morning my fragrance
mentor, Mr. Ramakant Harlalka, took me to the wholesale flower market in
Dadar. On one previous occasion we had visited there and the remembrance
of that time was a delightful one for me. Very early in the morning, flower-laden
trucks enter the city from farming communities surrounding the city. Wholesalers
purchase their projected needs for the day, and open their shops at 5:00
AM to prospective buyers who come to purchase flowers for weddings, funeral
ceremonies, religious gatherings, etc. Individual flowers of jasmine, tuberose,
rose, chrysanthemum, marigold, champa, bakul, kadam, are massed in mounds
and sold in kilo quantities to discerning customers. Some flowers are sold
on their own stalks like water lilies, lotuses, roses, etc. for special
religious functions, for florist shops catering to the modern consumer,
or for other private use. Anyone can go and enjoy the vibrant market activity
which is veritable riot of color and smell. Casual visitors needs to be
sure to keep out of the way as carts, porters, and consumers move through
the narrow lanes carrying their fragrant wares to one or another destination.
Our special quest for the day was to find the merchants of golden champa
and as the season was just beginning not many flowers were available. Finally
Ramakant guided me to a stall where a man reknowned for the quality of his
flowers was doing business. There, nicely spread out on his table were some
superb specimens of the golden champa flower. They had been plucked just
prior to the opening of the bud and lay there in all their elegant golden
beauty. These flowers would soon find there way into the hands of some fortunate
person who would string them into a garlands, sell them as individual hair
ornaments or offered as single flowers at home altars or in the temple.
On the way back to his home, Ramakant showed me a champa tree which he used
to climb as a boy so that he could bring his mother flowers to put on the
home altar.
Updated: 5/26/2006
Copyright (C) 1998 by Christopher McMahon. All rights reserved. Queries to: somanath@aol.com
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