The holy plant that outperforms a HEPA filter: A look at Tulsi's hidden power.
The Guardian in the Courtyard: Why Tulsi is Worshipped But Rarely Cooked
By Shashi Bellamkonda | January 2026
There is a specific scent to an Indian morning. Before the coffee is brewed or the milk is boiled, there is the sharp, peppery, slightly astringent smell of the courtyard. It comes from the Tulsi Vrindavan—the sacred planter that stands like a sentry in millions of homes, including this one in Hyderabad.
I was looking at the plant in the courtyard this morning. It’s a Krishna Tulsi, distinct for its dark, purple-tinged leaves and intense aroma. It sits in a traditional yellow planter painted with the Om and Swastika symbols—ancient markers of wellbeing and auspiciousness. It struck me then: this is likely the most common plant in India, yet it is almost never found on a restaurant menu.
The Culinary Paradox
This paradox is fascinating, especially when contrasted with Southeast Asia. In Thailand, Ocimum tenuiflorum (Holy Basil) is a staple. It is the star of Pad Kra Pao (Holy Basil Stir-Fry), thrown by the handful into sizzling woks with chilies and garlic. It is treated as a vegetable—a delicious, aromatic herb that defines the flavor profile of the region.
Yet, just across the Bay of Bengal, using Tulsi in a curry or a salad feels almost transgressive. In India, Tulsi is not seen as an ingredient; she is viewed as a Goddess (Vrinda). One does not chop up a deity to garnish a potato dish.
This reverence changes how the plant is consumed. It is not eaten for pleasure; it is consumed for Prasad (a devotional offering) or medicine. A few leaves are dropped into water to purify it, or steeped in tea for a cold. It is functional and spiritual, but rarely gastronomic.
Nature’s Air Purifier
My marketer brain usually looks for the "value proposition," and Tulsi has perhaps the best one in the botanical world. Beyond the spiritual belief that Tulsi protects the home from evil, there is hard science at work here.
Research published in Scientific Research Publishing and other botanical journals suggests that Tulsi is one of the few plants capable of emitting oxygen for up to 20 hours a day, unlike most plants that only do so during photosynthesis. It is an active absorber of pollutants like sulfur dioxide. When people say the air is "cleaner" near the Tulsi plant, they aren't just speaking metaphorically.
A Simple Ritual: Tulsi Kadha
Since it is not cooked with, the best way to experience the sharp, clove-like flavor of Krishna Tulsi is through a simple Kadha (herbal tea). It is a common remedy when travel fatigue hits or the throat feels scratchy.
The Method:
- Take 5-7 fresh Krishna Tulsi leaves (the purple ones are more potent).
- Crush them gently to release the oils—they are typically not cut with a knife.
- Boil them in water with a small piece of crushed ginger and a black peppercorn.
- Strain and add a drop of honey.
The taste is intense—spicier than European sweet basil, with a medicinal kick that wakes you up. It tastes like history.
The Threshold Guardian
As I sit here in Potomac, Maryland, looking at photos of this trip, I realize how much the yellow planter is missed. In the West, households buy air purifiers with HEPA filters and hum over the noise. In India, families plant a seedling, water it daily, and bow to it.
Whether it is seen as a goddess or an oxygen generator, the result is the same: a home that breathes a little better.
Note: The plant pictured is from my family home. The 'Om' and 'Swastika' (an ancient Sanskrit symbol of wellbeing, distinct from the co-opted Nazi symbol) mark the planter as a sacred space.
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