While roots see soil as the most precious commodity on earth, dominant human society’s structures treat soil the opposite way. Deep layers created, preserved, nurtured, and enriched over millions of years, have been washed downstream in drastic amounts over just the last 200 years. Perennial communities of roots have been pushed out systematically to be replaced by structures of the agro-industrial complex. These complexes constantly suck out materials they crave, while concentrating toxic materials in the soils trapped in their clutches. In a natural plant ecological community, roots play a critical part in providing the structural diversities for life to thrive. In the same forest, incredibly strong roots are seen growing together with minute and delicate ones. Roots of giant rainforest trees, like that of the Elaeocarpus tuberculatus tree in Agumbe, can grow into buttresses over ten feet tall, supporting trees often over 150 feet tall. On the other hand, roots of certain ferns like the Osmunda hilsenbergii, which grows on the banks of streams, can be as fine as silk. Roots can hold massive boulders in place, growing around them over centuries like the Ficus virens trees in the riverine belts of Mudhumalai. At the same time, they can also grow in spaces with less than five millimetres of soil supporting plants like the minute Utricularia purpurascens insectivorous plants on the wet rock faces of Rajgad near Pune, in the Western Ghats. Roots are almost fluid, taking the shape of whatever amount of soil they get. Given the space, they are quick to cover every square inch extensively; yet they always only support more and more life. Roots not only resemble nerves; they are equally– if not more–receptive and intelligent. In order to stabilize humidity within a shola cloud forest, the roots of montane shola forest trees can sense minute changes in the environment. Accordingly, they control the amounts of water absorbed from the soil for controlled evapotranspiration. Similarly, the roots of tropical trees can sense the levels of moisture at various depths in the soil to perfectly time the tree’s growth. Already mature trees in old-growth forests are careful to use stored water in deep soils and only put out new leaves during the peak dry season. They allow surface water to be used by the younger plants and help maintain the hydrology that keeps the streams and rivers flowing out of these forests – perennially. Roots have an incredible life force that defies our understanding of resilience. Tussock grasses can get burnt to the ground, grazed till every millimetre of their tillers is provided as food, yet each time, they come back with vigour. These cycles can go on for centuries–and rootstock can be alive for hundreds if not thousands of years.
Similarly, the roots of epiphytic plants, like certain orchids, defy our understanding of chemistry by sustaining the entire plant and producing brilliant flowers of various shapes and colours while sieving nutrients only from thin air and the moisture around them. Trees and plants communicate via their roots and other life forms, such as bacteria and fungi nurtured through symbiotic relationships. Mother trees pass their knowledge and even nutrition to younger trees via their roots. Roots do constantly take from the soil but know how to give back to it in a way that continually improves the ground. Modern civilization, as we know it, has done the opposite–with rampant extraction from the earth’s crust. Just recently, the total mass of all man-made objects crossed the entire biomass on earth! (https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2020/dec/09/human-made-materials-now-outweigh-earths-entire-biomass-study) Within just 200 years of civilization, we are struggling to predict patterns needed for the survival of our species and the countless number of species that are going extinct every day as a result of the rampage. We can hardly begin to address the toxic waste being generated, let alone live in ways that can improve our surroundings–like roots. Even when working to help lands regenerate, we resort to the genius of roots. Working in the field of rewilding, one knows that one of the most powerful forms of interventions is to hold back our interference and allow space for nature to regenerate and the buried roots to spring back to life. In these times of widespread collapse, the term ‘being rooted’ needs to mean that we allow roots to re-colonize and do their work; and learn how to find our place in the tangled forest of life and time.