Wild & True Nannari Sarbath

Part 2 of a two-part series on Mahali Kizhangu [Decalepis hamiltonii] and Nannari [Hemidesmus indicus], and the unforgivably large ecological costs of confusing the two.

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It happened quite by accident. I missed a piece of mahali kizhangu [Decalepis Hamiltonii] while in the midst of a pickling episode. It dried easily, and I thought: wow, this dried mahali looks exactly like the nannari pattai (“nannari bark”) that we get from the local vaidyar kadai or the country medicine shop. But—how? The nannari plants [Hemidesmus indicus, Indian sarsaparilla, Sārivā] we have growing all about us remain wiry and resolutely thin, sure to dry even thinner. They should have been my first clue, but I was convinced that the local nannari plants were wild, untended and therefore wiry-rooted, that if they were given more nourishment and care, their root systems would fatten up, too, like Hansel and Gretel in the Black Forest. But now I had this piece of dried mahali root in my hand, and it presented incontrovertible evidence: the country herbalist had sold me dried mahali root and called it nannari.

Not just the local herbalist. When I looked around, I found “nannari” being used to refer to mahali all over the place—news reports, farmers’ videos, scholarly papers, ordinary foragers and big-time foodie giants like Tarla Dalal. Photographs of mahali kizhangu (or magali beru in Kannada or maaredu gadda in Telugu) are routinely presented as nannari, and even identified botanically as Hemidesmus indicus. And why? Because both roots predominantly contain an isomer of vanillin, 2-hydroxy-4-methoxybenzaldehyde or HMB/2H4MB–it comprises over 90% of the volatile oils in each root (Nagarajan and Rao 2003)–both therefore can be used interchangeably in the flavoring industry, to make the famous nannari or Rayalaseema nannari sarbath.

Interestingly, the major aromatic aldehyde possessed by both roots not only gives them their distinctive flavors, but also confers other properties: “bacteriostatic and toxic properties and hence the root can be stored unaffected for long periods” [Nayar et al. 1978], and anti-microbial properties [Thangadurai et. al. 2002; Nagarajan et al. 2001]. Both roots do belong in the same family Apocynaceae and sub-family Periplocoideae after all; therefore perhaps the incredible family resemblance in spite of otherwise quite varied morphologies.

Substitutions and Ecological Consequences

This evidence aside, Nayar et al. (1978) rather too easily take the fact that the Government Central Pharmacy, Bangalore and “some of the leading Ayurvedic pharmacies in Tamil Nadu and Kerala” use mahali roots in place of nannari “in Ayurvedic preparations like Amritamalaka taila, Drakshadi churna, Shatavari rasayana and Yeshtimadhu taila” as incontrovertible evidence that the two roots are, in fact pharmacologically interchangeable without any further phytochemical profiling or testing. Who these pharmacies are, and why they’ve decided to swap mahali for nannari is never discussed. Instead, similarity is cursorily established for the sake of convenience: “Due to the remarkable similarity in the therapeutic properties of the roots of D. hamiltonii and H. indicus and the non-availability of the roots of H. indicus in bulk quantities as required by drug manufacturers and physicians, the roots of D. hamiltonii are used in South India as a substitute for the roots of H. indicus” [Nayar et al. 1978: 37-38]. Evidence presented in Nayar et al. (1978) is therefore both anecdotal and flimsy. Nonetheless, it becomes the key published point of reference establishing interchangeability and is cited by most other articles referring to this matter.

As a result, it is mahali kizhangu that has been commercially over-harvested to the point of being on the IUCN’s Red List of critically endangered species. Nannari is doing just fine! Root morphology explains it all. Why would anyone bother harvesting thin, wiry nannari roots which snap easily and are hard to pull out of the compact soils in which they prefer to grow (which is why they’re called Anantamool, the endlessly rooted), which are much more delicate in flavor and lower-yielding–why do all this when you can get fat-fat roots that chase away nay-sayers in the family by the far stronger strength of their smell, but promise nannari merchants more bang for your buck, more house for your money, and more profit for your efforts?

When we keep mis-identifying this precious, endemic-to-South-India, and incredibly flavored root (oh just have it in a sarbath and those moota-poochi nay-sayers will shush)—when we keep calling mahali “nannari,” we’re supporting an industry that is either careless or deceitful or both; we are allowing the gross over-exploitation of one in the name of the other. The photos presented on the labels of commercial nannari sarbath bottles may be of nannari plants, but labels as we know only too well are only rough indicators of what’s inside, especially in unregulated industries such as this one. If the images of “wild nannari” shared by Chennai wholesalers on Indiamart or by individual sellers on Amazon India are any indication, however, nobody is selling nannari at all. All that is out there is dry mahali kizhangu. So, more than likely it’s not nannari sarbath you’ve had each scorching summer. It’s mahali.

They’re all “health drinks,” right? So nobody will know the difference and nobody will care because it’s all “good for you” anyway. That’s not just one more case of adulteration that these industries are so famously known for, that’s as I say either carelessness, enthusiastic over-extrapolation, or an out-and-out scam. And mahali kizhangu is disappearing from the wild because of it.

Are Mahali and Nannari the same medicaments?

For the record, it’s important to distinguish Mahali from Nannari as medicaments, at least at the broad levels of folk understanding and some basic scientific corroboration. Mahali kizhangu is known traditionally as a hemoglobin-booster and blood purifier and general vitalizer (Pudutha et al. 2014). “People procure and habitually carry the roots with them and chew the same whenever the digestion may seek relief,” say Reddy and Murthy 2013. Mahali is also used in powder form to produce decoctions which treat bronchial asthma and play a role in (internal and external) wound-healing. The root powder is given to diabetics (Khare 2007: 217; Reddy and Murthy 2013). The most common, traditional, household method of consumption is as a pickle fermented with curd.

Nannari, by contrast, is customarily had only as a summer sarbath, and perhaps as a result is best known for its body-cooling properties. It is also used as a general tonic which is anti-inflammatory, anti-diarrhoeal, anti-microbial (useful for treating urinary tract infections), and hepaprotective (somewhat balancing Paracetamol-triggered kidney damage), with some role in the healing of chronic wounds (such as those caused by diabetes), glycemic control (in diabetes care), and as a viper anti-venom [Das and Bisht 2013, Banerjee and Ganguly 2014, Chatterjee et al. 2014].

In all, while it does appear that both nannari and mahali have some overlapping properties, they are also used for different conditions. We don’t actually know whether all specific virtues are common, nor whether there may also be other (deleterious) effects produced by other constituents or that could result from overconsumption. While several studies link the presence of 2-hydroxy-4-methoxybenzaldehyde to the anti-fungal and anti-microbial properties of both roots, the contributions of all the other minor constituents of each cannot be overlooked. These have been quite widely documented, but apparently not fully or comparatively studied (cf. for D. Hamiltonii: Murti and Seshadri 1941, Nagarajan et al. 2001; for H. Indicus: Khare 2007: 307, Narayanankutty et al. 2021). Bottom line: a lot more research needs to be done before we can say with confidence that mahali and nannari can be swapped out for one-another. Unless an accomplished Ayurveda or Siddha practitioner or other bench researcher tells us otherwise with solid citations from the ancient texts, these are best treated as distinct medicaments.

Consider that, when you buy yourself your next bottle of nannari (probably mahali) sarbath.

Will the real nannari please stand up?

All of this leaves me and all the lovers of nannari syrups and sarbaths out there with a major problem. If everything that’s there in the market is in fact mahali, in fact over exploited and endangered, probably medicinally distinct from the nannari I seek–what options do I have?

The sad thing is that there is no reliable source of actual dry nannari at the moment, no trader to trust. The Kerala supplier on IndiaMart won’t sell a household a small quantity. The only viable option is to forage nannari on our own, and while that certainly seems more daunting than being able to 1-click order on Amazon, it’s also more possible pan-India because nannari is fundamentally a wild twining undershrub which grows throughout South Asia–quite unlike mahali, which is far more locally specific. The broadness of nannari‘s dispersion makes me surprised that it’s not more known in other regions, too, but indeed this whole business of the substitution with mahali might be responsible for its greater popularity in the South.

I turned therefore to all the wild nannari that comes so effortlessly into our gardens, determined to make a true nannari sarbath base from them, for the next Jil-jil-Jigarthanda or the next nungu elaneer, if nothing else. They grow in hard, compacted soil with ease, making them somewhat challenging to harvest. I had to soak the ground with water considerably to dig below for the roots. Uprooting nannari teaches you why this plant is called anantamool, the endless-rooted one. The roots seem to extend interminably, and because the soil is compact, they snap easily: a self-protective measure. But then the fragrance is unmistakable, intoxicating: vanilla, sarsaparilla, red earth and light drizzle, godhuli (“the dust of cows”) or the sensory experience of the evening dust the cows kick up illuminated by the light of the setting sun as they’re so-proverbially coming home.

I harvested a bare handful of plants and wound up with only a small bundle of roots. I worried that they seemed to lose their fragrance when soaked in water to clean (but they regained it when more dry). I worried that over-boiling would kill the intensity of the final flavor (but the house smelled of vanilla and light root beer). I worried that the strained liquid looked unpalatably muddy—but believe me when I say “mud” never tasted so good nor looked so beautiful, the color of godhuli in a glass. A little like the panampazham which spoils so fast that it’s difficult to use commercially, what saves nannari is just that it is so diminutive, so easy to overlook, so difficult to collect, so much work for so little in return.

But where in this world is work ever correctly measured against the quantum of returns? One small root bundle, the juice of one lime, and a scant cup of sugar got me six nice glasses of sarbath though—plenty. And in the bargain, I got to go a-foraging, to source my nannari locally, ethically, and to stay very literally true to my roots.

Making a true Nannari Sarbath

There are really only a few simple steps to making your own nannari sarbath: forage, steep, sweeten, bottle. Here are the details:

1. Forage and gather wild nannari, pulling out as much of the length of root at the end of each plant as possible. Use water to soften the soil and a spade to help you dig. Remember to forage responsibly, leaving enough rootstock and enough plants behind so that they regenerate and continue to live happily in your garden.
2. Wash the woody roots well, and pound them lightly to expose the inner wiry element. Discard that or ignore that as you please.

3. Flash boil the nannari roots in about 1/2 litre of water (or enough to cover the roots).
4. Leave the roots in the boiling water overnight, tightly covered.
5. Drain out the roots, measure the liquid in cups. Return to a saucepan along with an equal number of cups of sugar–to make a simple syrup.
6. Bring to a boil again. You can reduce this to a 1-string consistency (to use as a syrup as in the jigarthanda) or simply dissolve the sugar and boil a few minutes longer (to use as a sarbath base).
7. Add the juice of 2 limes (or citric acid). Boil for a few more minutes, then cover and allow to cool completely, bottle, and store. The natural preservative properties of the main volatile constituent will ensure the syrup has a long shelf life, even at room temperature.

8. To serve, dilute the syrup to taste and serve over ice.

Variations:

• Add sabja seeds, pieces of ice apple or tender coconut (the “vazhuku”);
• Add bloomed badam pisini/ gond katira/ gum tragacanth for a Sugandhi Katora, a version of a katire ka sharbath;
• Dilute with coconut water and add pieces of tender coconut for a Madurai special “elaneer sarbath” or tender coconut sarbath. [Add that to the repertoire of Madurai-specials on this blog: Jigarthanda & Paruthi paal & Kalyana murungai vadais.]

One small bundle of nannari roots will get you about 6 glasses of sarbath, or more (depending on dilution), each one of which is so much more precious for being foraged, processed by your own hands, and incontrovertibly nannari.

Sources

Banerjee, Aparna & Ganguly, Subha. 2014. “Medicinal Importance of Hemidesmus indicus: a Review on Its Utilities from Ancient Ayurveda to 20th Century.” Advances in Bioresearch 5: 208-213. 10.15515/abr.0976.

Chatterjee, Sabyasachi, Aparna Banerjee and Indrani Chandra. 2014. “Hemidesmus indicus: A Rich Source of Herbal Medicine.” Medicinal and Aromatic Plants 3(4). DOI: 10.4172/2167-0412.1000e155

Das S, Bisht SS. 2012. “The bioactive and therapeutic potential of Hemidesmus indicus R. Br. (Indian Sarsaparilla) root.” Phytother Res. 27(6):791-801. doi: 10.1002/ptr.4788.

George, J. and Ravishankar, G. A. and Keshava, U. N. and Udaya Sankar, K. 1999. “Antibacterial activity of supercritical extract from Decalepis hamiltonii roots.” Fitoterapia, 70. pp. 172-174.

Khare, C.P. 2007. Indian Medicinal Plants: An Illustrated Dictionary. Springer.

Murti, P.B.R., Seshadri, T.R. 1941. “A study of the chemical components of the roots of Decalepis Hamiltonii (Makali Veru).” Proc. Indian Acad. Sci. (Math. Sci.) 13, 221–232. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF03049270

Nagarajan, SL, & Rao, L. & Gurudutt, K. 2001. “Chemical composition of the volatiles of Decalepis hamiltonii (Wight & Arn).” Flavour and Fragrance Journal 16: 27-29. 10.1002/1099-1026(200101/02)16:1<27::AID-FFJ937>3.0.CO;2-F.

Nagarajan S, Rao LJ. 2003. “Determination of 2-hydroxy-4-methoxybenzaldehyde in roots of Decalepis hamiltonii (Wight & Arn.) and Hemidesmus indicus R.Br.” J AOAC Int. 86(3): 564-7. PMID: 12852577.

Nayar, R.C., Shetty, J.K.P., Mary, Z. et al. 1978. “Pharmacognostical studies on the root of Decalepis hamiltonii Wt. and Arn., and comparison with Hemidesmus indicus (L.) R. Br.” Proc. Indian Acad. Sci. 87, 37–48 https://doi.org/10.1007/BF03046869

Narayanankutty A, Kunnath K, Jose B, Ramesh V, Rajagopal R, Alfarhan A, Al-Ansari A. 2021. “Analysis of the chemical composition of root essential oil from Indian sarsaparilla (Hemidesmus indicus) and its application as an ecofriendly insecticide and pharmacological agent.” Saudi J Biol Sci. 28 (12):7248-7252. doi: 10.1016/j.sjbs.2021.08.028.

Pudutha, Amareshwari, Venkatesh K, Chakrapani P, Chandra Sekhar Singh B, Prem Kumar, A. Roja Rani. 2014. “Traditional uses, Phytochemistry and Pharmacology of an Endangered plant –
Decalepis hamiltonii. Wight and Arn.” Int. J. Pharm. Sci. Rev. Res., 24(1), Jan – Feb 2014; nᵒ 47, 268-278

Reddy, Chandrasekhara M and Sri Rama Murthy, K. 2013. “A Review on Decalepis hamiltonii Wight & Arn.” Journal of medicinal plant research. 7. 3014-3029. 10.5897/JMPR2013.5099.

Thangadurai D, Anitha S, Pullaiah T, Reddy PN, Ramachandraiah OS. 2002. “Essential oil constituents and in vitro antimicrobial activity of Decalepis hamiltonii roots against foodborne pathogens.” J Agric Food Chem. 50(11): 3147-9. doi: 10.1021/jf011541q. PMID: 12009977.