Before the monsoon, here we have custom of cutting trees randomly. The reason is said that the trees obstruct the overhead electric wires and crash on our cars in storms.
So the trees have to be cut... entirely.... And only the stubs are left standing like disfigured handicapped figures on the ground. There is an empty hole left on the skyline. Through the hole, you can see more of concrete and more and more of it.
...The nature is still forgiving and creating life out of destruction. The stubs disagree with their disfigured form and sprout new feelers of soft green leaves. Start afresh to absorb the evil breathed out by us and fill the air with fresh smelling life, in return. By the next monsoon coming, the trees flourish in their full blossoms, shooting out of the ground in all directions, the joy of existence... the joy of being able to create life......And at the bottom of their festive foliage is the stub reminding us our defeat....at destroying them... at destroying ourselves ultimately.