-- *Mar*Certainly. Below is an original *short story* that captures the *Holocaust on the Biosphere* being caused by unchecked *economic activity* in the modern world. It is written in a *narrative form*, blending human emotion, ecological reality, and philosophical insight. ------------------------------ *“Ashes of the Green”* A Story on the Ongoing Holocaust of the Biosphere ------------------------------ *1. The Forest That Breathed*
Once, not too far from where cities now choke on their own ambition, there was a forest that breathed like a living giant. Its mornings began with the soft chanting of birds, and the evenings closed with golden light filtering through towering trees. The soil was soft with the memories of leaves fallen over centuries. Every tree was a library. Every stream a symphony. Deep inside this forest lived a 9-year-old girl named *Meera*, in a tribal village that knew no economics, only *ecology*. Her father was a herbalist. Her mother a weaver. They believed the forest spoke to them—through scent, wind, silence. To Meera, the forest was God, her school, her playground, her home. ------------------------------ *2. The Machines Came* One morning, the birds didn’t sing. The forest was silent. Then came the rumble. A convoy of *bulldozers*, like metal beasts, cut through the canopy. Behind them came men in yellow helmets, maps in hand, contracts in pockets. They said the land had been bought—signed off in a city that had never breathed this forest’s air. The government called it *development*. The companies called it *opportunity*. The economists called it *growth*. Within weeks, ancient trees were felled like criminals, their roots exposed like open wounds. Animals fled in panic. Streams ran muddy with the blood of disturbed earth. Meera watched her sacred forest become *timber, charcoal, and smoke*. She asked one of the men, “Why are you doing this?” He replied without looking at her, “Progress, little girl. This forest is standing in the way of a *smart city*.” ------------------------------ *3. The Resistance of the Microbes* What followed was invisible—but more devastating than the machines. With the forest gone, the balance of *fungi, bacteria, and insects* collapsed. Mosquitoes multiplied. Unknown viruses found new hosts. The rivers, stripped of tree roots, flooded in the monsoon and dried in the summer. The village’s soil turned to dust. Crops withered. Children coughed. The birds never came back. In the city, hospitals overflowed. New diseases emerged—resistant to medicine. Farmers marched to the capital, but were met with tear gas and stock market updates. Economists, still drawing curves on whiteboards, never noticed the curve of *biosphere collapse* going vertical. ------------------------------ *4. The Theism of Ashes* Years passed. Meera, now grown, stood at the edge of what was once her forest. It was now a *concrete export hub*, with cranes taller than the trees had ever been. She lit incense and placed a small stone idol of her forest goddess on a barren patch. “I used to feel her here,” she whispered. “Now I feel her only in ashes.” And then, quietly, the wind rose—carrying a single seed from far away. It landed at her feet. A sign, maybe. That even in genocide, life resists. ------------------------------ *5. A New Language* In universities, professors still taught supply and demand. Stock traders still celebrated “bull markets”. Governments still measured progress in GDP. But outside, the air thickened. The oceans acidified. The seasons forgot their names. Forests became memories. And diseases began to speak the new language of extinction. And somewhere in the quiet corners of the Earth, people like Meera planted seeds in secret, hoping that the Biosphere might forgive. ------------------------------ *The Real Holocaust* This is not history. This is not prophecy. This is *now*. The real *Holocaust of the Biosphere* is not marked by guns or gas chambers. It is happening with *invoices, excavators, spreadsheets, and signatures*. It is a silent genocide—of trees, bees, soil, air, whales, fungi, and future children. It is happening because we value *revenue* over *roots*, *convenience* over *coexistence*, and *profit* over *planet*. ------------------------------ 📖 *Epitaph* “They called it progress. We called it home.” ------------------------------ Would you like this formatted for: - A spoken storytelling event? - A video voiceover script? - A publishable short story in a magazine? I can tailor it accordingly. Let me know. -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Thatha_Patty" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/thatha_patty/CACDCHCLO-it1e3Fc3fxZpxQyRJNPtuFpPQGFZJCW1uLMaZSZ8g%40mail.gmail.com.
