Ripples In A Teacup

  I live in a rather old house. Vines have crept up its blackened, decayed sides and twisted themselves into an intricate maze. Blood red roses grow on large sprawling bushes in a wild, maundering fashion. At night, the moon throws an ethereal, almost ghoulish glow over the landscape, casting parts of it into soft, muted shadow. The dead trees outside sway melancholically in the gentle breeze. My friends called me crazy for buying this dilapidated mansion. It is far from town, and completely isolated. The neighborhood is practically deserted. The truth is, it was offered to me for almost nothing. The original owners left in quite a hurry. They seemed frightened, speaking of “strange happenings” and “mysterious voices”. People really do get into a tizzy over nothing. Frankly, I’m not the crazy one for accepting a deal as good as this.  I’ll admit, when laid stark and bare in the cold light of day, my residence appears unseemly. The cracked, peeling paint is the only sign of its...

  I used to be a neem tree, tall and strong, my slender leaf fronds swaying in the wind. I lived in a beautiful forest, brimming with life. It was called Aarey. Every day my friends and I danced to the rhythm of the sun, harnessing the soft golden light to make something magical. It was oxygen, a gas that fostered life. This oxygen brought joy and life to our forest and the dirt ridden polluted city around us. Life couldn’t be better, but I had under-estimated human folly, stupidity, short-sightedness and greed           A few months ago,  we  heard the rumours for the first time. “They are going to chop down a few thousand trees at Aarey” to make space for a Metro car shed”.  At first, I didn’t believe the rumours. And why should I have done so? Why on earth would the humans want to destroy the only forest in the heart of Mumbai. Why would they want to massacre thousands?            Panic broke ou...