Snail mail
Sir — The postage stamp was once the quiet hero of every envelope but has now been relegated to philatelists’ albums. Tiny and dignified, stamps bore declarations of love, overdue apologies, and holiday postcards. As children, we queued up at post offices, agonising over which bird or statesman should escort our thoughts across the nation. These days, our messages vanish into cyberspace with a dry subject line and no adornments to land up next to a promotional email from Amazon. In a world addicted to immediacy, the stamp reminds us that some messages are worth waiting for.
A.P. Thiruvadi,
Chennai
Heat rising
Sir — A new report by the World Meteorological Organization has found that Asia is warming twice as fast as the global average. From cracked fields to flooded cities, the continent’s climate diary is already full. The warning bells are no longer distant; they ring from Wayanad to Wuhan. Policymakers must move beyond declarations and into disaster drills. Each delay adds to the cost — in lives, livelihoods and long-term resilience. The WMO report does not predict the future. It describes the present.
Anil Bagarka,
Mumbai
Sir — Labour powers much of Asia. With heat waves rising, outdoor work becomes infeasible and even fatal. From markets to construction sites, climate stress reshapes labour markets. The WMO rightly calls for early warning systems, but resilience must reach every worker. Shade, hydration, medical support and flexible schedules form the new tools of economic survival.
Ardhendu Chakraborty,
Calcutta
Sir — The WMO report reads like a weather map of misfortune: floods in Pakistan, landslides in Kerala, typhoons in the Philippines, wildfires in Central Asia. These are not isolated events; they are linked by one warming thread. Asia’s geography offers little room to escape. What it needs now is a blueprint for resilience. Disaster preparedness must be woven into urban planning, education and agriculture. This is not a seasonal concern. It is a structural one.
Tapan Dutta,
Calcutta
Life in death
Sir — The article, “Deep roots” (June 26), by Uddalak Mukherjee was a beautifully layered and quietly provocative piece. At its heart is a clever inversion: it asks us to mourn not just the loss of life, but the loss of a dead thing — a paradox that becomes profoundly moving by the end. The writing elegantly links personal memory, urban culture, and broader ecological thought through a single, fallen tree. What is particularly striking is how the writer uses the ‘Dead Tree’ as a metaphor for neglected ecosystems mislabelled as wastelands, all of which support invisible but
intricate life. That pivot from the poetic to the political is subtle but
sharp.
Susanta Roy Chowdhury,
Calcutta
Sir — I wonder whether Uddalak Mukherjee has seen Arthur Henry Young’s Trees at Night, a series of haunting silhouettes of trees dead and alive. Young’s works reveal how such forms evoke not just memory but feeling. A tree need not be alive to inspire; it can mirror moods, suggest stories, even serve as a quiet companion to solitary walkers. The Dead Tree at Lodhi Garden, like Young’s inked phantoms, might have offered not just aesthetic grandeur but emotional resonance. The photograph accompanying the piece especially reminded me of Young’s Last Appeal. The piece also reminded me of Young’s quote: “But aside from the appearance of a tree by day or night, is it not kin of the human family with its roots in the earth and its arms stretching toward the sky as if to seek and to know the great mystery?”
Yashodhara Sen,
Calcutta
Sir — Dead trees may lack leaves, but they certainly do not lack purpose. Birds nest in their hollowed limbs, fungi feast on their bark, and forest floors thrive on their decay. A snag may look like yesterday’s tree but it is tomorrow’s nursery, pantry and apartment block rolled into one. The woodpecker calls it home, the soil calls it dinner, and the forest calls it essential. Let the dead (trees) stand tall. They do more good upright and empty than felled and forgotten.
Haridasan Rajan,
Kozhikode
Divided opinion
Sir — Mr Darcy has long enjoyed the reputation of being the thinking woman’s dreamboat. But upon closer inspection, he does seem like a red flag (“Just a man”, June 27). He broods, meddles and moralises. Generations of readers have mistaken self-importance for depth and condescension for charm.
Ayesha Majumdar,
Calcutta
Sir — Fitzwilliam Darcy is no red flag. He is a slow-burn hero with principles and a touch of endearing awkwardness. He speaks little but acts decisively, rescuing reputations and admitting fault without theatrical fanfare. He is a man who listens, learns, and grows — a rare character then and now. Reform is not a woman’s job; Darcy does the work himself.
Romana Ahmed,
Calcutta