At the old ruined temple, the three friends sat with eyes closed.
Arjuna’s face was filled with absolute peace. His breathing was slow, deep. A multi-colored aura danced softly around him.
He felt it—he was in the world of plants. The vibration of every leaf, the touch of every root, the fragrance of every flower—everything resonated within him.
He was one with the plants. Their breath was his breath. Their life was his life.
Bliss. Peace. Completeness.
Vikram’s face was different. There was tension on his forehead. Even though his eyes were closed, his pupils moved rapidly.
He saw...
A dense forest. Ancient, sacred. Centuries-old trees touching the sky. Green, lush, alive.
Then... sound. A terrible, mechanical noise.
Huge machines. Bulldozers. Cranes. They were tearing into the forest.
Trees were falling. Centuries of life, destroyed in a moment. The forest was vanishing. Destruction. Destruction. Destruction.
Vikram’s body began to tremble. Agony was etched on his face.
Kiran was experiencing something else entirely.
Heat in his chest. Fire in his head. Even in the cool morning air, he felt feverish.
Sweat trickled down his forehead like beads. He touched his chest. Hot. Burning.
What is happening? What is this?
Arjuna opened his eyes first. The lingering effect of peace was still on his face. "That... that was amazing."
Vikram opened his eyes, but his face was worried. "I saw forests being destroyed. Trees falling..."
Kiran opened his eyes and immediately wiped his forehead. "I felt so hot. Like a fever, but different."
They stood up and walked towards their homes, dismissing the profound experience as something ordinary. They didn't realize—they had successfully established 'Vanaspati Samvad' (Plant Communication). Their powers had awakened.
---
The school ground was bustling with noise. The Annual Day was next week—everyone was busy with preparations.
The three friends—Arjun, Kiran, Vikram—stood in a corner, watching.
They walked towards the open-air theatre behind the school. A natural stage—shaded by trees, open to the sky.
But there was a problem.
Mallappa Sir and a few other teachers were discussing something under a large tree.
"Look at that branch," Mallappa Sir pointed up. "It completely obstructs the stage view. The parents sitting here won't see anything."
"So, that branch must be cut," Mallappa Sir decided.
The three boys looked at the tree. It was a massive, ancient Mango tree. Centuries old. Its branches spread wide, offering cool shade.
A while later, a man arrived. Muniyappa, the village woodcutter. He carried a chainsaw, ropes, and a ladder.
"Where to cut, Master-ji?"
"That big branch," Sir pointed. "Cut it completely."
Muniyappa placed his ladder against the trunk and checked his chainsaw.
"That's a huge branch," Kiran muttered.
"Yeah," Vikram felt uneasy. "Cutting that much doesn't feel right."
Arjuna watched the tree silently. He felt something. A pull towards the tree. But he didn't understand why.
Muniyappa started his chainsaw. The mechanical roar filled the school ground.
He began to climb the ladder.
Arjuna’s heart started pounding. Something was wrong. Something terrible was about to happen.
But what?
Muniyappa reached the branch. He touched the chainsaw to the bark, marking the cut.
"Careful!" Mallappa Sir shouted. "Stand back, children!"
Muniyappa pressed the sharp teeth of the chainsaw against the wood.
All three boys felt it at the same time.
Not a scream of words. Not a scream of sound. But a scream nonetheless.
A scream of agony. Of pain. Of fear.
Arjuna clutched his head. "Can you hear that?"
Vikram flinched, his face turning pale. "It... It's screaming!"
Kiran panicked, his eyes widening. "The tree is in pain!"
The tree’s agony echoed in their minds. Every touch of the chainsaw felt like a wound on their own bodies.
"Stop! Stop!" Arjuna screamed, running towards Muniyappa.
"Please stop!" Vikram joined in, raising his hands.
"You are hurting the tree!" Kiran yelled.
Muniyappa stopped the saw and looked down. "What happened, kids?"
"You are hurting it!" Arjuna said desperately.
Muniyappa looked confused. "It's just a tree, son. It doesn't feel pain."
"No! It does!" Vikram said. "We can hear it!"
Mallappa Sir intervened. "Go to your classes. This is work for adults."
The scream in their minds wasn't fading. Instead, it was intensifying.
---
Vikram pulled the other two aside.
"Mallappa Sir won't believe us," he said quickly. "But the Biology Sir might listen. I'll run and get him."
Vikram sprinted towards the school building.
Arjuna and Kiran turned back to the tree. Muniyappa was preparing to climb again.
The tree's agony intensified. It knew—its death was near.
Arjuna suddenly remembered. The Appiko Movement. He had read about it in school—in Karnataka, people hugged trees to save them. Like the Chipko movement.
"The adults won't listen," he said softly. "So I will stop them myself."
Arjuna ran. Straight towards the tree trunk. Directly under that massive branch.
"Arjun! What are you doing?" Kiran shouted.
Arjuna didn't stop. He reached the base of the tree and lay down on the ground. Exactly where the branch would fall.
He wrapped his arms around the tree trunk.
A Human Shield. A boy protecting a tree.
"Arjun, this is dangerous!" Kiran rushed to him.
"I won't move," Arjuna said firmly. "I won't let this tree die."
Kiran looked at his best friend. Torn between fear and loyalty. But he knew—he couldn't leave Arjuna alone.
He stood right next to the tree. He didn't leave.
"He is serious!" Kiran shouted at Muniyappa. "Please stop!"
A crowd began to gather. Muniyappa climbed down. "What are you doing, boy? Get up! It's dangerous!"
"I won't let you kill this tree," Arjuna said, hugging the tree tighter.
Mallappa Sir arrived, angry. "Arjun! Get up right now! This is indiscipline!"
But Arjuna didn't move. The tree's agony echoed in his mind. Its fear, its pain. He felt it was his duty to protect it.
Muniyappa got frustrated. "I have to finish the work. Get up, or I'll start the machine!"
Arjuna didn't move. Determination on his face, but fear in his eyes.
Muniyappa raised his chainsaw in anger, thinking the noise would scare the boy away.
He started the chainsaw.
The mechanical roar filled the air.
Arjuna—clinging to the tree trunk. Right in the drop zone.
Kiran—screaming "Stop!", his voice lost in the noise.
Muniyappa’s hand—on the trigger.
Time seemed to stand still
