On seeing two young tradesmen in a bus

Neither of them looked as if they had ever shaved. Both were wearing thick, very workmansy jeans (of the type -- I still keep searching for, but fail to find in the brand showrooms -- that prospectors, cowboys and bikers favour for durability and ruggedness) and full-sleeved shirts and were well groomed and looking more or less like any urban 15-16 year old's would.

Both were also wearing boyish expressions of delight, as if they were going to a circus, cinema or cricket match. But immaterial of the boyish looks and their "holidayish" mein, these two were evidently headed for work and holding the tools of their trade in their hands.

One had an axe (the axehead comprising of a piece of a metal rib plate turned into an "O" at one end and sharpened at the other, with a still green and uncured handle of wood passing through the "O") and the other had a rudimentary machete -- a curved work knife of the kind used to cut open green coconuts or slice firewood, solidly fitted onto a handle; again of still green and uncured wood.

While I watched them -- standing in the bus with one shoulder tensed up by the grip of my arm on the grab rail and the other weighed down by the pendulum swing of the bag that carries what could be another tool of trade for me -- my DSLR -- I let me eyes do a surreptitious crawl of their faces, looking at them as subjects for my photographic eye. And noted that one of them had slightly brown hair with curls so fine he could have passed off for a Hasidic Jew and the other had a well shaped, almost aquiline nose and big wide-spaced eyes. Naturally, I started mentally calculating camera angles, aperture and shutter settings while thinking that both of them made eminent subjects and were worth working on for a day in a studio or outdoors with the sun blazing in resplendence.

Meanwhile the bus stopped and the boys got down, carefully making their way through the throng in the bus -- headed for a day's work -- at some site overgrown with Lantana and other scrub, in all probability; hands on each others shoulders.

I continued on in the bus, with the DSLR doing its pendulum swing on my shoulder.

Onto another day at work.

Part tradesman, part logophile, I work with my hands, labour with words -- I write.

Fuck -- progress is a four letter word

I am not primitivist, no recluse from civilization and certainly no social claustrophobe. Okay, I do feel a bit self-conscious (in numerous ways) when I am amidst a group of strangers intent on chitchat and small talk and am given to believe that the best conversations are serious (as opposed to the banalities of online chatting comprising mostly of "brb" and "phone") but that still doesn't make me very radical, does it?

And speaking of nature and conservation, ecological sensitivity, etc. I do love the outdoors, am an avid bicyclist and get a kick by using public transport (in carbon footprint terms) but that still doesn't mean I have a dislike for civilization, development, progress or whatever else my species is currently engaged in -- on this planet, earth.

But I do know one thing, have known it all the while -- that trees are sacred living creatures and certainly not things. And that is why -- whenever I see a bleeding stump of what was once a verdant tree -- I am increasingly of the opinion that all that we as a species label as "progress", "development", "advancement" and so on are nothing but manifestations of our absolutely unfettered greed; a greed that borders on the pillage and destruction visited on by civilization by the relatively wild hordes -- like the Mongols, the Tartars and so on...all through the annals of history.

And yes, though I won't call myself a pessimist (you wouldn't either if you know me) I am again increasingly of the opinion -- whenever people brush off the cutting of trees as a necessary evil -- that our species is like a bunch of cattle stampeding with no sense of direction or purpose, mooing all the while; stampeding ahead in the march for the next level of so called advancement -- its collective ass wired to the twin obsessions of money and (what money feeds) consumerism.

I do lust for lenses and other technological advancements and I will once again repeat -- I am no primitivist and I love boulevards and bright city lights as much as I love verdant expanses and the great outdoors, but if someone says it is "progress" which makes it mandatory for trees to be cut, I will say progress is a four letter word.

In this day and this age, we need to introspect as a species and ask ourselves how advanced and evolved we really are if we cut down living, breathing, singing creatures in thousands; without even blinking an eye, as if they were deadwood.

Especially in this day and age when almost every corporate and busybody with a communication budget (or intent on getting noticed for making all the right noises) seems to be focusing on "going green", "ecological awareness", "3R's", "forestation" and what not under their CSR and other initiatives.

Anyway, read this and maybe thereafter all you can also say would be -- Oh, Fuck!