Category Archives: Environment

Is global warming annoying you? Wait until 2050 when the sun cools down

By Alvin R. Cabral

The realm beyond Earth’s atmosphere has always fascinated me. As a matter of fact, one of my earliest childhood ambitions was to someday become an astronomer. Heck, I was so full of myself back then when I preached stuff like asteroids, comets, galaxies, black holes, quasars and, most importantly, the Mercury-Venus-Earth-Mars-Jupiter-Saturn-Uranus-Neptune-Pluto order that makes up our Solar System to my cousins, classmates and even my elders. Genius was I, back then.

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Not an environmentalist, but I can’t get enough of trees

By Purva Grover

By now, I should have found the answer. My friends and family are worried that I am struggling with words, unlikely for an author, they say. Everyone’s going to ask you the same question— Why did you decide to write a book revolving around trees? ‘For many reasons, familiar and strange,’ I’d like to tell them. When did you fall in love with trees? ‘It’s personal,’ I’d like to add. But then, I guess, it’s too late. The words are now as much theirs, as mine. It’s time I confess.

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Timber! Get ready to pick and cut your own tree in a forest

By Carrie G-S

My family farms trees. We farm trees for lumber and for making paper. Our beloved red pine and white pine trees are cut for lumber when they have grown to the end of the their life span. And our other beloved trees — large balsam, white pine and poplar, are also grown until they just can’t grow any further. Then, we replant what the seeds of the older trees have not already replenished. And, in amongst the farmed trees are the dark green trees that make beautiful Christmas trees whose seeds were brought to the soil without the need for human hands.

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A tale of two cities: Surviving the smog in Delhi and Lahore

By Anamika Chatterjee

Delhi (India)

Last week, the news of an aunt’s passing away had me fly to New Delhi. The three-and-a-half-hour-long flight that usually feels like eternity began to seem too short to come to terms with my sense of loss. By the time I landed and stepped out of the airport to spot my parents amid a bunch of masked men and women, my eyes welled up. “All of us have to go one day,” my father consoled me, without realising that at that very brief moment, grief had taken backseat as a thick layer of smog hit my eyes, leading them to be moist.

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