Five months pregnant, Purnima Munda has joined others under the scorching midday sun to worship in remembrance of the Karam tree. Yet, a question lingers in her mind: will the ritual even be successful? Instead of a Karam tree, she is praying before a Peepul tree — similar in appearance, but not the same.
With her eyes filled with doubt and despair, Purnima Munda says, “We have learned from our ancestors to worship this tree in times of danger and for the well-being of our children. That is why I am offering prayers to the Karam deity for my unborn child. But we have no Karam trees here, and since the puja must be performed, this tree is our only recourse.”
Some 1,500 to 2,000 members of the Munda community live in the coastal areas of Shyamnagar and its surroundings in Satkhira. They are not, however, the region’s original inhabitants. Historical accounts suggest they were brought from India around a century ago, during the British colonial period, as labourers.
At that time, vast swathes of the Sundarbans were dense forest. Labour was needed both to clear the land for cultivation and to harvest timber. The British imported Mundas from Jharkhand, Chhattisgarh, and neighbouring regions of India. Their main task was to cut down forests, prepare farmland, and maintain clearing forest areas.
Gradually, under British orders, the Mundas established small settlements within the Sundarbans. They opened up land for farming and introduced new agricultural practices. Over time, they settled permanently in parts of coastal Satkhira, including Shyamnagar and Kaliganj.
The Mundas follow the Sarna faith, at the heart of which lies the 'Karam Puja'. Their worship is devoted to nature and ancestors. But climate change and recurring natural disasters have placed their culture and rituals under threat.
Today, the community struggles to preserve its century-old traditions and identity.
Jhumur dance of the Mahato people during Karam Puja in Sirajganj. Photo: Pinky Akter
The Karam tree is revered as a symbol of prosperity, peace, and good fortune. Women in particular observe the festival, seeking children, family wellbeing, and blessings. Yet the pressures of climate change and environmental stress have made the Karam tree rare in coastal areas. As a result, the festival has been shrinking, undermining the community’s religious and cultural heritage.
Geeta Munda, a close relative of Purnima, recently underwent a hysterectomy. Purnima fears whether her prayers will please the deity, while Geeta believes her own misfortune is a result of failing to perform the rituals correctly.
“We cannot find the Karam tree, we cannot conduct the puja as it should be done. That is why illness and misfortune do not leave us. I lost my uterus. Yet when we could perform the rituals properly, we lived with peace, happiness, and prosperity,” Geeta said.
According to the Mundas, Karam trees have not grown along the coast since Cyclone Aila struck in 2009. For years, they could not perform the rituals. Later, some families began worshipping the Peepul tree as an alternative. But this has created divisions within the community.
The festival priest, Pandit Nilkantha Munda, explained: “In our Sarna faith, there is no tradition of worshipping the Peepul tree. Therefore, substituting it for the Karam tree cannot be accepted.”
He added that the festival begins on the eleventh day of the bright fortnight of the month of Bhadra and continues for three days. Its central symbol is a branch of the Karam tree, placed at the altar as a sign of prosperity, peace, and good fortune.
On the eve of the festival, adolescent girls and young women collect branches of the Karam tree, singing and dancing as they bring them home. To the beat of drums, flutes, Jhumur dances and folk songs, the branch is set up at the heart of the village. Around it are offerings of rice, paddy, flowers, milk, and curd.
Women performing Karam Puja. Photo: Pinky Akter
On the main day of worship, women, men, and youth fast from dawn. They pray for family peace, the wellbeing of brothers, agricultural prosperity, and children. The priest chants mantras to invoke the Karam deity, while stories of the deity are recited — tales symbolising sibling bonds, farming, and prosperity.
The day is filled with song, dance, and prayers. At night, accompanied by drums and percussion, young men and women perform dances in praise of the deity. The festival concludes with the immersion of the Karam branch in a river, pond, or field. The farewell is marked with dance and song, ending with the distribution of offerings among devotees.
For the Mundas, the Karam Puja is not only a religious observance but also a symbol of family and social cohesion. They believe that with the blessing of the Karam deity, women conceive, ailments are kept away, and peace remains within the household.
Why the tree has disappeared since Cyclone Aila was explained by Professor Mihir Lal Saha of Dhaka University’s Department of Botany. He said the Karam tree reproduces either by seed or cutting. Germination from seed is difficult: the seeds are small and can be washed away by wind or water. Successful sprouting requires the right balance of water, light, temperature, and oxygen. In saline soils, germination becomes especially difficult, as salt interferes with water absorption and metabolic processes.
He said that salinity levels in coastal soil increased after Aila, endangering the tree in that region. He stressed the need for research on how to cultivate and preserve the tree in coastal areas. Beyond its cultural significance for the Munda community, the tree also benefits the wider ecosystem. Its flowers support pollination, which contributes to agricultural prosperity, he added.
Drums are played during Karam Puja, with the Karam tree nearby. Photo: Pinky Akter
Religious loss deepening women’s despair
The disappearance of the Karam tree has brought not only religious crisis but also growing despair among women. A 2024 study published in PLOS Global Public Health found that women in Bangladesh’s vulnerable coastal areas face rising anxiety, depression, and stress due to climate change. Between 50 and 60 percent of women are regularly affected.
Similarly, a 2025 study published in Frontiers in Public Health reported that climate change is having both mental and physical impacts on women aged 14 to 49 in coastal areas. Some 50 to 60 percent of them regularly suffer from anxiety and depression.
“We cannot work, nothing succeeds, whatever we try fails. Most women here suffer menstrual problems. I myself suffer from itching, discharge, and other gynecological illnesses. We cannot conceive easily, and even when we do, babies often die. These are the curses of the Karam deity. If we could have performed the rituals of our ancestors, these misfortunes would not have befallen us,” said 35-year-old Anandi Munda in a trembling voice.
Munda women are now participating less in community gatherings, withdrawing from meetings and social events. As a result, social cohesion is weakening, while bonds within families and the wider community are growing distant.
Speaking with members of the group revealed that without the Karam Puja, women are losing self-confidence, and cultural activities are declining. With reduced social participation, the preservation of community traditions and heritage faces mounting challenges.
“During childhood, we would all join hands during Karam Puja, dressed in yellow saris, watching our mothers and grandmothers sing hymns to the deity. The entire neighbourhood would take on a festive mood well before the rituals began. Now the puja is no longer observed in that way, nor do we celebrate together as before. As maidens, we once prayed for the wellbeing of our fathers and brothers. Whom do we turn to now? Our community no longer enjoys the prosperity and comfort it once had,” said 21-year-old Dipali Munda.
“We no longer have prosperity in our lives. The Karam tree was linked to our songs, recitations, and rituals, all of which are gradually disappearing. The younger generation is being deprived of this heritage, and with it our culture is also vanishing,” said Bhakta Munda.
A local NGO named Prerona has been working to replant the Karam tree and preserve the tradition of Karam Puja.
A worried Munda woman for not being able to perform Karam Puja; two others sing Karam Puja songs. Satkhira. Photo: Pinky Akter
“We are working on ways to reintroduce this tree into the region, while also documenting and conserving the community’s festival songs and hymns,” said Mohammad Touhidul Islam, Head of Programmer at Prerona.
He added that cultural disintegration has also led to a decline in the Munda population. Many have converted to Hinduism or Islam, while social frustration has discouraged women from engaging in community activities. To address these problems, the NGO has been providing financial assistance to support festivals and traditions among the Mundas.
However, Popal Munda, president of the Sundarbans Indigenous Munda Organisation, lamented the lack of government initiatives to protect indigenous faiths and traditions.
“Today our community is divided over the Karam Puja. Without Karam trees, many have turned to worshipping the Peepul tree. But when the Peepul tree disappears too, what will we worship then? Our ancestors worshipped the Karam deity — this is our religious culture. Such traditions cannot simply evolve away. Yet no government initiative exists to address our crisis,” he said.
When contacted, officials at the Shyamnagar Forest Department said they had no information on the disappearance of the Karam tree, nor were they aware of the species. Similarly, the Soil Resources Development Institute in Khulna said the matter was beyond their remit. They were unable to provide information on salinity levels in coastal soil or the Karam tree’s tolerance in saline conditions.
Researcher Pintu Baulia of Satkhira, however, has been studying the issue. He said: “Since Aila, salinity levels in underground water have increased, spreading across the region. Trees that cannot withstand salinity, such as the Kuj and Karam trees, are no longer growing.”
“The Karam tree is not only religiously significant but also vital for the environment and agriculture. Its flowers attract bees, butterflies, bumblebees and other pollinators. This enhances natural pollination, boosting yields of rice, pulses, vegetables, and fruits,” he added.
Evidence of this role can be seen in a 20-year-old Karam tree in Sirajganj. Birds nest in its branches, insects cover its trunk, and biodiversity thrives around it.
Karam Puja of the Mahato people. Photo: Pinky Akter
The Mahato indigenous community of Sirajganj also worships the tree. Around 15,000 Mahatos live in 38 villages, but there are only 15 Karam trees across them all. Ujjal Mahato has therefore taken the initiative to plant new ones, though he said growing seedlings from seeds is more complicated than with most other trees.
“When seedlings grow from the tree’s seeds, agricultural prosperity follows,” said Bimala Mahato.
The Mahato community also believes the tree has medicinal uses. Its bark and leaves are employed to treat a variety of ailments.
“With parts of this tree, we make medicine for many diseases. We never needed to buy medicine. For diarrhoea, acidity, itching, smallpox and more, we use the bark and juice of its leaves — and they work,” said 75-year-old Gauri Mahato.
The International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) has listed the Karam tree as endangered. But conservationist Mahbubul Islam Palash, founder of Pran-Prokriti Pathshala, has been campaigning to save it. To teach future generations its importance, he has preserved Karam trees in his own collection and continues replanting efforts.
Women are performing Karam Puja. Photo: Pinky Akter
Climate change eroding indigenous religious culture
A study published in April 2025 in the international journal Religion and Worldview by MDPI reported that climate change and environmental degradation are placing hill communities in severe crisis. Indigenous groups are losing not only their livelihoods but also their religious and cultural practices. According to the research, abnormal seasonal cycles, the depletion of forest resources, and the decline of shifting cultivation have disrupted festivals and rituals, threatening the cultural and religious identity of these communities.
In Brazil’s Mato Grosso state, the Piripkura people of the Amazon rainforest are now facing a profound spiritual crisis due to environmental destruction and climate change. Only two members, Pakyî and Tamandua, still live on their sacred land — the centre of their rituals. Deforestation and illegal logging are pushing their holy sites towards destruction.
Sapling planting to increase the number of Karam trees is underway in Sirajganj. Photo: Pinky Akter
Similarly, in Panama’s Guna Yala region, the Guna indigenous community faces existential threat as rising sea levels endanger their traditional island homes — central to their spiritual life. In 2024, some 300 families were relocated from their ancestral island of Gardi Sugdub to the new settlement of Isber Yala, Reuters reported.
“When the religious culture of a community is harmed, faith itself withers away — and women are the worst affected. This is because women are the ones who perform the majority of rituals,” said Professor Dr Zobaida Nasreen of Dhaka University’s Department of Anthropology.
Speaking on the Munda community’s Karam Puja, she said: “When the tree itself is endangered, how will the existence of the Karam deity be remembered? The Munda community is now facing existential crisis and grief. Unless this challenge is urgently addressed, their faith will transform in ways that will undermine their identity — and place the community under serious threat.”
[This special report was produced with support from the Earth Journalism Network (EJN) Fellowship]
