Sornam

Sornam tends a stretch of palmyra groves on the dry plains near Sankarankovil, climbing and tapping dozens of trees through the long tapping season.

He came to the craft later than most, taking it up in his twenties when work in the city ran dry. The palms welcomed him slowly; it took years before his hands stopped trembling at the top.

Now he moves through the canopy with an ease that hides just how dangerous the work remains. A slip is unforgiving, and the heat at midday is merciless — yet he is back among the fronds every single dawn.

Sornam believes the palmyra is undervalued, a tree that asks for almost nothing and gives sweetness, shade and shelter in return. "Look after the palm," he says, "and it looks after the whole village."