I was on the phone a couple of days ago, with a friend I haven't met in a long time. It's Earth Day, I said, knowing she'd want to know, considering we shared a common love for the wild outdoors. Like most people today, I'd like to do more for the environment too, but I guess I simply fall short in this regard each time. Still, there's no harm in sharing useful information, spreading the good word, so to speak.

We got talking. I am the rebellious daughter of two highly controlling professor parents, and I spent a major chunk of my early years with like-minded friends ( the children of my parents' colleagues) and friendly university dogs, growing up wild in green university spaces-exploring jungles, worming through libraries, hanging out at students' hostels or staff quarters. It was perhaps just by living in such close proximity to Nature that my friends and I learnt to distinguish several hundred varieties of flora and fauna to nt fear, but love them. I'm sure I learnt my greatest lessons of universal love and tolerance way back in childhood, through see, touch and feel.

Now as my friend and I chatted about the trees of our childhood, she lamented how they were chopping them up. It takes an average of 40 years for a tree to reach its prime, and only an hour to saw it to the ground. Yes, we knew that. But my friend had another worry on her mind. What about the tree-snakes?

I have an about-average knowledge but a continuing fascination for snakes, particularly this lesser known species known as the tree-snake. However, I do know that, with the exception of boas, most tree-snakes are harmless towards humans. Almost all tree-snakes are non-poisonous and all are beautiful to look at. On a more serious note, tree-snakes are a crucial part of our natural eco system and their role cannot be compromised. I immediately felt a surge of panic: what if something happened to the tree-snakes?

I remember drawing class when I'd draw all my trees with hollows, and all the hollows would have tree-snakes peering out of them. I probably have a tree-snake psyche. I wonder if my grand-children would be able to do that, I tell my friend, if there are no tree-snakes left at all. Of course, she's still worried about the tree-snakes, but she says, They'll probably find something else to draw. I have absolutely no doubt that she is right, but isn't that crying shame? Imagine a world without the delicate slitherings of a jewel-like tree-snake, it's body catching the sunlight as it glides up a tree. Tree-snakes are beautiful, and extremely lovable. I want people to draw hollowed trees with tree-snakes peeping out of them till eternity.

While on past-future continuums, few things make me melt like a gift of jewelry. I must confess, I myself buy a lot of junk, which I obsessively wear for a week at a stretch and then thoughtlessly toss away into oblivion, in fancy jewelry boxes or even gilded biscuit tins. It was while rummaging in thse bohemian delights, that my fingers found a pair of earrings my dance- teacher had once gifted me. The earrings are delicate silver filigree chandeliers, studded with semi-precious stones and they bob prettily every time I talk or nod my head.

My dance-teacher and I share a special bond. I remember being a particular nuisance as a student, when I learnt Kuchipudi from her, but I loved and still love dancing and that is probably the reason why she has gone on to become more than a teacher: a mother-figure and a family friend. This pair of chandelier earrings was special because it belonged to her when she was my age, a young girl studying dance at Shantiniketan. For her to have loved them once and to be passing them on to me was beautiful, indeed.

Though she never really succeeded in properly teaching me Kuchipudi, to my dance-teacher, Pushpa Singh, I owe an eternal love for and an abiding interest in dance. That, apart from contributions to my wardrobe from her fashion-designing class (I plan to wear her darling salwar kameez creations as maternity wear when I'm expecting my first baby) and several, several other pieces of personal jewellery from her youth, which I strung together with fishing line to make the most beautiful windchime in the world. And there it hangs, that adorable windchime, tinkling softly in rain and shine, reminding me of my dance teacher.

Love and Kisses,

Purple Fairy