{Earlier posts from me on this critical issue links :The Campaign against “Unnecessary Destruction” sustains its momentum on my blog} 

They are killing you. You are dying.
But you still smell like green leaves, pink flowers.20102007724.jpg
When I see a murder like that how can I take my eyes
off it ? Yesterday, you were a tree crafted, many seasons ago,
at the left side of a street, by some kind hand.  There
were no roads, not many cars then. So no one felt the need
to kill you to widen them. Yesterday, like many mornings and evenings,
you left your doors and windows wide open for many birds, small,
medium, large, extra large, which usually kick off their respective music
tours in the blue skies. Your world was so randomly arranged, so
chaotic, yet so irresistibly beautiful. We, bastard people, secretly used to
watch you jealously as we sloped off to some cubicles. Today, those
men are showing us bits and pieces of bedrooms, living rooms, balconies,
corridors, swings of your hidden world. It looks so different from
my world of painted faces who, aimlessly, hang around tall, hideous blocks
of steel, granite, marble and other weird materials. Beyond a broken
village gate, mountains are gasping for breath. I can’t believe that
I have nothing to say about  my world which beaming at its flat
tummy. Someone urges me, for God’s sake, woman, say something
about these sallow faces, broken hearts, dismantled wings,
disrupted homes. I do not like one more huge batch of homeless.
Have you ever wondered where do birds, little worms, butterflies,
insects, frightened for their lives, flutter or crawl away?
Do you know anything sadder than tears, which flow down silently? 
Who hears the sweeping emptiness when a tree, with bewildered eyes,
curls into the arms of death ? I am trembling with sadness.
I do not like this treeless winter. I do not like a mid-autumn filled
with no yellow detonations. I do not like this stern hand dictating
all of us in a classroom, to lean how to deal with
“Remembering things from the past”