Living in a city like Chennai, surrounded by concrete, traffic, and constant noise, running Jacob & Klooster Farms sometimes feels like a quiet act of rebellion. A rebellion against forgetting. Forgetting seasons, soils, insects, and the deep relationship humans once had with plants. As a lifestyle farmer trying to live in harmony with nature, my work is not just about growing food, but about bringing back biodiversity and safeguarding traditional plant knowledge before it disappears. One interesting plant species growing quietly and abundantly on our farm is Kalanchoe pinnata, also known as Bryophyllum pinnatum (synonym), from the Crassulaceae family.
A plant that refuses to disappear
Kalanchoe pinnata is a hardy, perennial succulent that thrives in warm climates. If you live anywhere in the tropics, chances are you’ve seen it growing along compound walls or tucked into neglected corners of gardens. Locally, it goes by many names: life plant, air plant, miracle leaf, leaf of life. Each name hints at its most remarkable quality—its ability to regenerate.
Originally from Madagascar, this plant has travelled far and wide and now grows almost everywhere across tropical regions of Africa, Asia, the Caribbean, and South America. What fascinates even first-time observers is how new plants form along the edges of its leaves. When these tiny plantlets fall onto soil, they root effortlessly. No fuss, no special care. Just life continuing, quietly and persistently. At Jacob & Klooster Farms here in India, it grows happily on its own, asking very little from us—just space and respect.
A living pharmacy in the backyard
For generations, Kalanchoe pinnata has been part of household medicine chests across cultures. In traditional medical systems, its leaves have been used for wounds, burns, inflammations, insect bites, coughs, kidney stones, and skin infections. While modern science is still studying many of these uses, traditional knowledge has long recognised its value.
My own belief in this plant was deepened far from Chennai, during my travels for my PhD work on traditional knowledge and medicines of the Saramaccan Maroons in Suriname. One day I developed an annoying boil on my arm not knowing what caused it and how to get rid of it, I showed it to one of the persons I was working with. He suggested a simple remedy: gently heat a fresh Kalanchoe leaf over fire until warm, then place it directly on the boil and secure it overnight. Next morning, the swelling had reduced dramatically, and healing had clearly begun. It was humbling to witness how a plant, growing freely around homes, could offer such effective relief without chemicals or clinics.
Uses closer to home in Tamil Nadu
Here in Tamil Nadu, Kalanchoe pinnata is no stranger either. It is locally known here as ranakalli (ரணகள்ளி). Many people recognise it as a medicinal leaf used for treating boils, cuts, bruises, kidney stones and swelling among others. The leaf juice is sometimes applied externally, and in some traditions, small amounts are used internally under guidance. Sadly, as lifestyles change, many younger generations walk past this plant without knowing its name or value, dismissing it as just another “weed.” But plants like this are reminders that knowledge once lived in everyday life—in kitchens, backyards, and conversations between generations. Now these conversations are becoming less, the knowledge is rapidly disappearing.
More than a plant, a message
What Kalanchoe pinnata teaches us goes beyond medicine. Its resilience, its generosity, and its ability to regenerate from a single leaf all carry a deeper message. Nature does not demand complexity. It thrives on balance.
As urban farms begin to re-emerge in and around cities like Chennai, we have an opportunity—and a responsibility—to invite such plants back into our lives. Plants are not weeds. They are food, medicine, pollinator havens, soil protectors, and silent allies to human wellbeing. Many also serve purposes we are only beginning to rediscover.
At Jacob & Klooster Farms, every plant has a story, and every story reconnects us to nature. By allowing biodiversity to return—even in small urban spaces—we begin to heal not just the land, but ourselves.
