Ina Pala and the Tree That Must Not Be Touched Carelessly
A folktale from the land of Banda
The night wind blew gently from the sea, carrying the scent of salt and the lingering fragrance of nutmeg trees in bloom. In a small courtyard, beneath the canopy of an old tree whose leaves whispered softly, children sat in a circle on a woven mat. A bamboo torch stood at the corner of the yard, its flame dancing across the curious faces.
An old man, his hair white as sea foam and his clothes simple, sat in the middle of the circle. His eyes were sharp but kind. He tapped his wooden staff against the ground and spoke in a low, steady voice:
“Do you know why the nutmeg trees on this island are always fragrant? It’s not just because of the fruit. It’s because they are watched over… and have been, for generations.”
The children glanced at one another. The wind seemed to pause for a moment. The old man took a deep breath and continued:
“Listen carefully… this is no ordinary tale. This is the story of a spirit—a woman—who still guards this land to this day. Her name is… Ina Pala. And this isn’t some tale written in a book. It is a living story, passed down from mouth to mouth, from night to night, whispered among the rustling leaves and the murmuring waves of Banda.”
“And if you listen closely tonight, you just might catch her scent in the wind.”
Then he began his tale…
Before the ships came from distant lands, before great vessels anchored at the harbor, Banda was already fragrant with the scent of nutmeg. But that scent was more than just the smell of fruit—it was the scent of prayer, of spirit, and of earth, carefully watched over and cherished.
Deep within the lush forest stood one ancient nutmeg tree, older than all the others. No one dared to touch it carelessly. For there, within its roots and branches, dwelled Ina Pala—a guardian spirit who had watched over the tree’s lineage since the very beginning.
Ina Pala was no ordinary spirit. She wasn’t a ghost to be feared, but a mother who protected. Her hair flowed long, like dried strands of mace, and her gaze shimmered like morning dew you’d hesitate to disturb. If someone came with greed in their heart—trying to take nutmeg without respect or permission—the tree would wither, the fruit would fall too early, and their nights would be haunted with uneasy dreams.
But if someone approached with kindness, bringing small offerings—betel leaf, areca nut, and fresh coconut water—and greeted the tree with a clear heart, then the branches would grow heavy with fruit. And sometimes, if you were sensitive enough, you might glimpse Ina Pala’s form swaying between the leaves—like a smiling mist dancing in silence.
Your grandfather once said he saw a young man forget to ask permission before harvest. That night, the wind stopped blowing. Every torch went out. The trees creaked, though no breeze touched them. And then came a woman’s voice from the forest:
“Child without respect, don’t expect your harvest to bring you blessings…”
Since that day, we never forget. Every harvest season, there is always a soft song beneath the tree—not to summon spirits, but to remember that nature has its guardians.
That is why we always pay our respects before picking. Because nutmeg is not just a fruit…
It is a sacred trust from the unseen world.
🌱 Moral Message
Respecting nature and its unseen guardians brings blessings, while greed leads to loss. Always ask permission and act with gratitude.
