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The death of Kuttymathan Kani, a quiet but resolute guardian of tribal knowledge in Kerala’s Agasthyarkoodam hills, has brought back into sharp focus a story that once held global scientific and pharmaceutical attention—the saga of ‘Arogyapacha’ and the herbal wonder drug ‘Jeevani’.
Kuttymathan, revered among his people for his deep knowledge of wild tubers, medicinal plants, and forest biodiversity, spent much of his life working to preserve and pass on this wisdom. His passing is more than the loss of a man. It is the dimming of a light that once guided India’s most celebrated experiment in benefit-sharing between indigenous communities and modern science.
In August 2022, Kuttymathan’s lifelong efforts received rare national recognition. On behalf of the Kerala government, he received the ABCD launch memento from the President of India—a symbolic moment that acknowledged not only his individual wisdom but also the collective traditional knowledge of the Kani community. For his people, it was a proud reminder that their centuries-old practices were finally being honoured at the highest level.
At the heart of his dreams was the revival of Jeevani, the herbal drug derived from Arogyapacha (Trichopus zeylanicus), a small, unassuming plant endemic to the shaded understorey of the Agasthyarkoodam biosphere. For the Kanis, Arogyapacha had always been a secret source of stamina during their arduous treks across the hills. When scientists confirmed its antioxidant, adaptogenic, and anti-fatigue benefits in the 1990s, Jeevani was born—a herbal supplement hailed as India’s indigenous answer to the booming nutraceutical market. For a brief moment, it seemed that tribal knowledge and modern industry had found a perfect meeting ground.
But dreams often falter in the real world. The Arya Vaidya Pharmacy of Coimbatore, which first commercialised Jeevani, deposited Rs 10 lakh as part of a pioneering benefit-sharing model. Half went to the Jawaharlal Nehru Tropical Botanic Garden and Research Institute at Palode, which had partnered in research, while the other half was entrusted to the Kani community trust. It was hailed as a landmark in recognising indigenous intellectual property.
Yet, the model soon collapsed. Arogyapacha proved nearly impossible to cultivate outside its natural habitat; its seeds germinated painfully slowly, and vegetative propagation demanded extraordinary labour. The company could not sustain supply. Without reliable access to the herb, Jeevani production dwindled, and with it, the promise of community empowerment.
The subsequent entry of Kerala’s state-owned Oushadhi pharmaceuticals raised fresh hopes. But those too died prematurely, shackled by a glaring legal contradiction: under India’s forest laws, Arogyapacha is not listed as a Minor Forest Produce (MFP).
That meant the Kanis—the very custodians of the plant—were legally barred from collecting it in the wild. Harvesting without permission risked imprisonment. Cultivation in household plots was equally unviable given the plant’s dependence on the unique soil, humidity, and canopy cover of Agasthyarkoodam. In effect, the law froze Arogyapacha’s future in red tape, criminalising the knowledge and practices of the very people who had nurtured it for centuries.
It was Kuttymathan who consistently pushed against this impasse. A tireless advocate for his community, he engaged with forest officials, scientists, and policymakers, urging the government to recognise Arogyapacha as an MFP. He understood that only legal empowerment could allow the Kanis to sustainably harvest and partner with institutions like Oushadhi in reviving Jeevani. Alongside, he worked on cataloguing wild tubers, preserving dietary diversity, and mentoring younger members of his tribe to value and carry forward their ecological heritage. Yet, in his lifetime, this crucial policy recognition never came.
Kerala’s SC/ST Minister O R Kelu insists the state did not fail him. “When Kuttymathan was diagnosed with cancer two years ago during a medical camp organised by the ST Department, the government ensured all possible support, including advanced treatment at the Regional Cancer Centre, Thiruvananthapuram. We also stood by him with assistance like a new house when his old one was beyond repair. It is unfair to say he was neglected. On the contrary, his insights were valued, his voice was heard, and his contributions shaped how we approach tribal welfare,” Kelu said.
Former SC/ST minister and current member of Parliament K Radhakrishnan remembered him in deeply personal terms: “Kuttymathan Kani was not only a good human being but also a true leader of his community. In my time as minister, I saw firsthand the depth of his knowledge. He was consulted on numerous welfare schemes, and his advice was always rooted in both tradition and pragmatism. People like him are invaluable to society because they remind us of the wisdom we are at risk of losing.”
P K Anoop, a Kani researcher who worked closely with him, underlines how Kuttymathan bridged traditional knowledge and modern conservation. “He was a mentor to both his community and scientists. Whenever researchers came with questions, he had answers that were not written anywhere else. He connected biodiversity to livelihood and diet, reminding us that conservation cannot happen in isolation from people. He was a champion not only of Arogyapacha but also of wild tubers and diverse food plants that keep the community resilient in times of crisis.”
The irony of the Jeevani saga is bitter. Here was a drug born of tribal wisdom, validated by science, celebrated internationally as a model of access and benefit-sharing under the Convention on Biological Diversity, and yet today, it lies dormant. The Kanis, instead of being empowered, remain excluded. The plant that could have become their passport to sustainable livelihoods remains locked inside the forest, outside the scope of law.
The way forward is clear, argue conservationists. The state must amend its forest produce list to include Arogyapacha as MFP, thereby granting the Kanis legal rights to harvest and sell it. Alongside, agencies like Oushadhi must invest in community-led collection and processing models, ensuring fair wages and ecological safeguards. This is the only way to revive Jeevani while protecting the fragile Agasthyarkoodam ecosystem.
As conservation expert Prakriti Srivastava notes, “This is not just about reviving a drug. It is about correcting an injustice. Indigenous knowledge is not a curiosity to be celebrated in conferences—it must be the basis of policy, livelihood, and dignity. If India is serious about biodiversity and community rights, Arogyapacha must be restored to the people it belongs to.”