The Andaman Islands is still largely forested, with magnificent old growth canopies emerging to kiss the clearest skies studded with stars.
With every passing year, the islands are rapidly transforming to fit the image of a warped tourist hub. Of hotels with glass facades, allowing air conditioners that runs on diesel generators, for people to cool down from the heat that emanates from the absence of those trees that were axed to make way for hotels with glass facades.
There is a constant fear- "will this tree be here the next time I come?", " will these skies still be clear?"
This is the story of the islands, but also that of our cities. Practically every inch of our country has a similar story to tell.
Streamside trees and the summer breeze. Memories of this gorgeous tree that stood close to the banks of the stream in Muchikunnu. This is her avatar through the heart of April. She sheds all her leaves to reveal what looks like a neural circuit. I've always wondered if someday we'll be able to listen to all the wonderful stories a tree may have to tell us. The way a tree would want it told. #ConsellationsHalfWayUp
I also wonder at times if somewhere amidst her branches that resemble a neural network lies a memory of me. I'd like to think so. #FamilyTree
Trees that bring you to your knees. There was a patch of primary forest we'd often go to visit the old strangler fig tree on the property. Around it stood giants like this one that created a space that was breathtaking and comforting at the same time. The ground was wealthy with leaf litter and the sky opulent with canopy. The golden light that pierced through the canopy would quickly turn green or brown. The silence was only broken by sounds you wanted to hear.
Walking through a forest offers a deep sense of healing. One that can't be explained but must be experienced. If you're reading this, we hope you see a tree today and that you have the chance to heal each other.
