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Communing with the Green Man.

Beltane greetings! Special today is a formerly paid-only essay about the Green Man, which I’ve recently made free for all.

Food and Flora to Honor the Green Man

By Archita Mittra

Creative Commons

Golden light trickles through the foliage, casting dappled shadows on the mossy ground. The scent of summer clings to the air: warm, heavy, and glittering with dust motes. The candle at the tulsi mandap, duly lit to honor the spirits of the house and garden, flickers softly. I gather a few tulsi leaves and jasmine flowers (taking care to not touch the plants and only pick the ones on the ground) in a small cotton pouch, and as I’m about to climb upstairs, I turn back, just once. For a moment, I think I see something move behind the old vine-entangled statues, the silhouette of a young boy playing hide-and-seek. But as is the case with most fairies, it might’ve been a trick of light and dreamy wistfulness.

But it is the eve of May and Beltane—the ancient Celtic festival celebrating summer’s arrival—is just hours away. Already, the logs for the bonfire have been assembled. The bael leaves, on which we will write our dearest wishes and burn them in the ritual fire, have been washed and anointed. The delicious smell of freshly cooked vegetable curry and mango chutney wafts from the balcony. Perhaps the garden fairies are also awake and eager to welcome summer with us, and if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll catch another glimpse of the Green Man.

The myth of the Green Man has been variously linked to Cernunnos, the Celtic horned god; to fauns and Dionysian revelry; to Odin and the Wild Hunt; and to folkloric figures such as Robin Hood and Jack-in-the-Green. In 1937, Lady Raglan wrote of the “Green Man” as an architectural motif—the face of a man, surrounded by leaves—that appears in churches and old structures, time and time again. He is the lord of the forest, a huntsman, the playful spirit of summer, a vegetation god sacred to the druids, and perhaps even a friend who teaches you about love, loss, and renewal.

Of course, living far away from the British Isles and yet growing up with the English stories (courtesy a colonial education in a missionary convent school) meant that I could only dream about running down woodland lanes at dusk, or collecting chestnuts and acorns with imaginary friends with leaves in their hair. Yet as the years wore on and my private interest in magic and folklore grew, I found similarities across cultures. 

Long before I’d even heard the word “Beltane,” my mother and I had been lighting bonfires to celebrate the beginnings of summer. We painstakingly grew vegetables like lemons, gourds, chilies, spinach, beans, and jackfruit and cooked them into curries, with only a little bit of oil, served with steamed rice. And we always left a small offering in a banana leaf, beside the vegetable patch, for the restless spirits of summer. 

In fact, the traditional summer diet insisted on a greater focus on vegetables which, as per Ayurvedic medicine, helped to cool down the body. In the Indian plains, the weather can quickly get humid and swelteringly hot—a tortuous spell of heat waves broken intermittently by the occasional Kalbaishakhi showers in April and early May. To call the rain or calm a fierce hailstorm, the women in the household often blew conch shells, and a trail of red ants meant that rain was imminent. Meanwhile, we steeped rose petals in yogurt and added a dash of cumin spice to make lassi. Some of the stray flower petals made their way into the garnishing of puddings and custards. Another delicacy involved carefully frying pumpkin flowers in a light batter to make a mouthwatering snack.   

However, a meal isn’t sanctified unless a tulsi leaf is placed over each of the dishes. In Hindu traditions, tulsi and bael are scared plants, with the former having its own altar in most religious households. Tulsi leaves have several medicinal properties; ingesting a few before a meal is said to rid the body of toxins. In fact, most puja ceremonies and the accompanying prasad are incomplete without the presence of tulsi. A shortcut that my mother and grandmother taught me is if you’re hard-pressed for time and you haven’t been able to cook anything, leave a small glass of water with a tulsi leaf and that will be enough to acknowledge and respect the unseen spirits. 

During the long months of lockdown, I rediscovered my passion for cooking and gardening, which in turn brought me closer to my family and to nature. While watering the plants, washing the vegetables, or walking around the garden at dusk, under the shadow of the bael and mango trees, I would remember the stories I read as a kid and loved, particularly those involving the Green Man. One of them was Season of Secrets, a children’s book by Sally Nichols, about moving on from grief and finding hope in the strangest of places. In it, a ten year old girl called Molly, following her mother’s death, moves in with her grandparents and goes to a new school. Alienated from her father and elder sister, she is incredibly lonely until she encounters and befriends an injured stranger. He is both her imaginary friend and confidant, and the Green Man of Celtic legend, who teaches her about rebirth and the cycle of seasons and how the forces of light and darkness cannot exist without each other.

The spirit of Beltane and the Green Man is concerned with the brighter half of the year, when the earth is most fertile and creative energies are at their peak. Of course, winter with its cold and darkness is inevitable, but far away in the seasonal cycle. And for now, it is a time to celebrate, to dance hand in hand with the leaves and the wind, to enjoy good food and drink in the company of those we love, and to let the playful magic of nature shine forth in all its dazzling summer glory.

Archita Mittra is a writer and artist based in Kolkata, India, with a love for all things vintage, magic, and darkly fantastical. She also reads tarot cards, has more hobbies than she can count, and loves blueberry milkshakes. Her work has been published in Strange Horizons, Thought Catalog, Mithila Review, Luna Luna Magazine, and elsewhere. You can say hi to her on Instagram and Twitter @architamittra and check out her blog here.