The (Indian) Aristocrats!

Marquel was subway eavesdropping listening to this story about a neighbor who put a highly burning log in his bathtub and then locked himself outside his apartment and the firefighters had to come in and open his windows because the log burned a hole in the bathtub and then only God knows for how long this huge log as big as the Ritz Hotel might have burned, when he got caught and ,embarrassed, read Indian Police Shoot and Kill 20 Said to Be Illegally Cutting Down Trees.

Officials said the loggers had been felling endangered red sandalwood trees, whose wood can be sold in China and Japan.

Amazing, thought Marquel. Here is a country that takes ecology seriously. Cut down a tree, they’ll cut you down too. This is clearly something Asian. Americans would never defend a tree with such commitment.

But India clearly understands that we live in a biosphere and we are just one part of it. Would you protect a defenseless puppy? Well than a tree is even more defenseless. It can neither bark nor run away. And a tree certainly can’t lie on its back and encourage you to scratch its belly, in a show of submission.

Marquel contacted the local Indian mission and asked why trees are defended with such apparent gusto.

“We are a highly moral society. It took your legal system two hundred years to decide that trees might have standing but to an Indian, a tree is as much of life as you or I and our families. You cannot take life for no reason in India.” Said the mission director.

“But shooting these poachers, who obviously just work for some much richer higher-ups,” said Marquel, “is a pretty extreme measure.”

“It only seems that way to you, an American. But if you saw a band of hoodlums taking lives in the middle of Manhattan, wouldn’t you defend those defenseless lives with lethal force?” He asked.

“I guess. But a tree!” Marquel exclaimed.

“Do you have a private phone to God where he explains to you the hierarchy of lives and their worth? How do you know that trees are less worthy of living than you?” Asked the man from the East.

“No, I don’t. I just sort of do it by the seat of my pants. Actually I haven’t a clue what God would say, if there were a God.” I said.

“You see, you don’t even know if there is a God, but you think you know the relative worth of his handiwork.” Said the Indian man.

“Actually I don’t. I’m at a loss. Not believing in him means I have to come up with my own theory and hierarchy.” I said.

“So what do you conclude? A tree is in danger of dying. The woodsman is about to take his life. You say, ‘stop,’ but the woodsman starts chopping. Do you shoot to defend the tree?” He asked.

“I really don’t know. I don’t think I’d shoot. Maybe I would steal his axe and run away.” Said the brave Marquel.

“In India we know where our values start and end. We don’t have to hesitate like you, bereft of any world view.” He said.

“That’s a bit unfair. Tell me, is it important that this kind of sandalwood can be sold in Japan and China for $300,000 a ton?” I asked.

“Of course. That’s very important. It tells you this isn’t any ordinary tree. It’s an aristocrat.” He said.

“A profitable aristocrat,” I said, “And woodsmen are probably close to free.”

“Yes, they are not aristocrats,” he admitted.

The Indian man had raised many questions but they all seemed still unanswered at the end of the day.

I went home to my wooden furniture, determined to treat it more respectfully.

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By MARQUEL: The (Indian) Aristocrats!