The Wars of Blades and Boughs

Art Source: www.saatchiart.com (Painting by Muaviyath Ali)

The rabid, ravenous men prowl into the wilderness,

clad in pressed suits.

They bare their fangs of slaughter

and flex their claws of demolition. Their acidic footfall brings blight to the air and soil,

burning everything in their wake. An odd and familiar thrill cascades down their beings,

greedy mouths drooling. The smell of butchering is delectable. For they have done it before and will do it again,

until the end of time.

The soulless men serve the fiends of greed, entities with an insatiable appetite. The hell-spawn fiends spin a mirage of progress and profits; and being the faithful devotees, the brutes work towards the infernal vision. An entire armada is assembled, to bulldoze with blades of all races and machines of all monstrosities. A battle looms ahead, an already lost battle; where there are no winners or losers.

The trees are transfixed. They beseech silently. The gorgeous greens sway in the wind, the last futile attempt to evoke nostalgia and save the day. Surely, one cannot destroy their own home. Deep within, they are the children who played with mud and sought shelters under the shade. The trees breathe life every day. Surely, one can't destroy their own lungs;

but greed has possessed the men, rotting them inside out. Devoid of any remnants of remorse for their callous cruelty, the men and their pack pounce on the unarmed.

The children of the woods are ready to defend their home. The children, both the rustic humans and animals are forged from the bark of the trees and the sunlight from the canopy. Their souls are intertwined with the roots of the woods. The forest is their spine,

the beginning and the end. Forest is their planet;

but for others, the trees are an impediment to the path of greatness. Two faiths clash;

both fuming and yelling the war cry.

Despite the valour in the veins of the forest kin, they are crushed like a twig. The barbaric blades swing and the trees fall, trunks sliced open. Many kins taste the blades with blood and life. The remaining ones are forced to flee, banished from their own homes, to remain in exile for many more years to come.

An entire world is reduced to mere tree stumps, with only the engraved rings for telling the tale. The sky descends to mourn, as the men counted their cheques. The world of green jewels has collapsed to soot and ash, smoke and bones. The forest kin has become homeless orphans, vagabond in a world, not theirs. Every day is one step away from perishing.

Years later, a dazzling mall stands in the graveyard. The soil is buried alive under the cement. The city folk dawdles all day, cherishing the stolen land. Like pirates of the sea,

they loot precious treasure from Earth;

they are

mean and selfish,

savage and vicious,

but the foulest fool of all the fools.

With every loot, they beckon death closer and closer.

And when Mother Earth seethes,

the fair reaper strikes,

sparing none.

Name: Adrija Dey

Year: 3rd

Department: BMMMC

Art Curated by Angel Rose Thomas

Edited by: Surabhi