A brief introduction to the Family Vembu

It started with my noticing that neem [Azadirachta indica] and curry plants [Murraya koenigii] often flower at the same time, in the hottest summer just before the mangoes, and remembering from that their relatedness.

Tamil speakers will recognize வேம்பு/ vembu/ wēmpu as the proper name for neem, though we say வெப்பம்/ “veppam,” probably because the tree thrives in such heat as us humans can barely tolerate. In such weather, the neem showers its delicate white flowers: the only snowfall we could possibly have in these trying green tropics. Right alongside, the so-called curry leaf plant is blossoming, too, with a remarkably similar bitter-sweetness as with which neem flowers fill the air.

This is kaṟi-vepa-ilai, the black neem, “kaṟi” being the very same கறி/kaṟi which gave the world its “curries,” denoting blackness and thus its spice-adding qualities, and “vepam” indicating its likeness to neem really in all respects: little white flowers, bitters, pinnately compound leaf-structure. This likeness is what makes it culinarily so important. Now, neem is medicinal, salubrious: Nimbati Syasthyamdadati, they say, it gives good health and is said to be present in a very large number of Ayurvedic formulations. If stories are told of tamarind trees with ghosts in them and their generally de-oxygenating atmosphere, the opposite is true of neem. And yet, but for the flowers and only the most tender of leaves, neem is far too bitter to be used culinarily. So, in come curry leaves as mitha nim [मीठा नीम], as Hindi-speakers say, sweet neem: not sweet per se, but a sweeter bitter. Properly in Tamil, it’s கறிவேம்பு/ kaṟivembu, sometimes written as karivambu, so it’s the second member of the family Vembu to speak of. The “vepam” or “vembu” of kaṟi-vepa-ilai or kaṟivembu signals its neem-like qualities, and even implies a permission to use as a substitute, which it is, in any number of different Indian regional cuisines.

There are at several other “vembu” varieties out there, from small-to-medium-sized shrubs and large timber-producing trees. All native to India. All with known medicinal uses, but then again I’ve not met an Indian plant yet that didn’t have some known virtue as medicament. And all with some phytomorphological or qualitative relationship to neem: leaf shape and structure, bitters, medicinal value, flowers, some commonality noted by their inclusion in the folk family of “vembu.”

Here’s a working list; there may be more to add:

• நிலவேம்பு/ Nilavembu or Siruyanangai; Bhunimba or Kalamegha in Sanskrit/ Andrographis paniculata /neem that grows close to the soil or ground (nilam, bhu), the “king of bitters”
• சிவனார் வேம்பு/ Sivanar vembu/ Indigofera aspalathoides /wiry indigo
• சக்கரை வேம்பு/ Sakkarai vembu/ Scoparia Dulcis/ sweet broom weed
• மலை வேம்பு/ Malai Vembu/ Melia Dubia/ Malabar neem [also a timber source; distinguished from neem]
• சந்தன வேம்பு/ Chandana or Madagari vembu/ Chukrasia Tabularis/ Indian redwood [a timber source]
• கறிவேம்பு அல்லது கறுவேம்பு/ Karivembu or Karu-vembu/ Murraya koenigii/ curry leaf plant, and of course
• வேம்பு/ Veppam, nimba, venbu/ Azadirachta indica/ neem

I haven’t myself known all the plants listed above, so I can’t comment in depth on each, but I am interested in three–neem, curry leaves and nilavembu–which are culturally (especially neem), medicinally (all three), and culinarily (at least curry leaves) of extraordinary importance. What unites them? Far more than other members of the family Vembu, these three are each potent bitters, widely in use.

My images here focus on the flowers for their sheer beauty and the commonality they indicate, but really it’s much more the leaves that matter (except in the case of neem itself, where both are used).

I’ve written about neem a few times before (urundais, vathals, rasam), and the digestive, anti-microbial, immunity-boosting, protective qualities of karivepailai are very well known and well documented. Nilavembu, on the other hand, needs slightly different treatment.

Nilavembu is also referred to as “green chiretta”–but this is a potential source of nomenclatural confusion, since there are multiple other plants also identified as “chiretta” and for entirely other reasons–a different family lineage, perhaps, worthy of separate investigation. For now I’m sticking with Balu and Alagesaboopathi, who ask that “The name Chiretta must be restricted only to the species of Gentianaceae. This will facilitate the correct identify of the herb in the drug market” (1995: 139).

More commonly known as siruyanangai, this little medicinal neem grows in both plains and hills of Tamil Nadu. What’s the similarity to neem? Unlike the curry plant, it’s nothing phytomorphological. Rather, this one takes the “king of bitters” title, even from the formidable neem. I’ve seen it growing quietly among weeds, standing out only because of its pretty, petit, and perfectly patterned white-and-purple flowers, and have known local women who didn’t disturb it while doing other clearing work, so they must have known its value. Nilavembu’s most common use is as antidote for insect and scorpion bites. It also has known antivenom and snake-repellent properties. In rural areas where bites of all kinds are common, it’s a good plant to have around.

In addition, a host of anti-pyretic, anti-microbial, and anti-inflammatory functions. A decoction of nilavembu and other medicinal herbs has become popular in treating dengue fevers in recent years, and a “nilavembu kudineer” or home-brewed “tonic” with several herbs and including nilavembu was wildly popular during the all phases of the COVID pandemic [leading perhaps to its indiscriminate and over-use at the time, too].

But you’d know nothing of such genealogies from the Latin names given to just about all members of the family Vembu. You’d know only the Arabs knew that neem was Indian: neem or Margosa is Azadirachta indica, a name derived from the Persian: azad = Free + dirakht = Tree + i–Hind = of India, so it literally means: the free tree of India. And “Murraya koenigii” for curry leaves tells us only that the Swede Jo­hann Andreas Murray (1740–1791) and the German Jo­hann Ger­hard König (1728–1785) put their names on a plant that’s been essential to Indian cuisine at least for lifetimes prior.  

Thinking with local taxonomies is rather like conjuring older botanical worldviews and seeing the collectedness of prior Indian knowledge-systems, which we sacrifice if we keep Anglicising for convenience and social media trendiness, as we have fairly unthinkingly with “moringa.” Knowing local ingredients and desi vegetables, recovering “lost” recipes and even “eating local”–why, it means this, too.

Sources Consulted

Balu S, Alagesaboopathi C. 1995. “Nomenclatural confusion of some species of andrographis wall.” Anc Sci Life. 14(3): 136-42.