The Color of Lifeline

The Color of Lifeline

The sun blazed its merciless fire, an unforgiving force of destruction. The grasslands, once abundant and rolling, shrank into ghostly remnants of their former selves. Changing into gray brittle and lifeless. Trees stood paralyzed, their leaves curled, whispering no songs life as usual. Only the dry crackle of despair. Rivers have gone. Their beds lay cracked, gaping wounds on the earth’s surface. The wind carried dust, thick and breathless, the scent of dust heavy in the air.

The animals knew as they always did. The mighty herds: elephants, zebras, giraffes moved in desperation, their limbs weary, their eyes vacant. The predators, too, felt the hunger claw at their bellies. Lions, once majestic, now stalked with sluggish steps, ribs pressing against golden hides. Overhead, birds abandoned their nests, a blackened veil against the burning sky, wings beating to the rhythm of urgency.

In the village, hope shriveled like the dying crops. Cattle had been sent away, their fate uncertain. The few remaining oxen stood motionless, eyes hollow, ribs like the ridges of forgotten mountains. People spoke less. They moved slower. Each breath carried the weight of fear. The dry season had always been an enemy, but this time, it felt like an executioner.

Then came the murmurs and then the prayers. At the village center, we gathered: elders, mothers and children. Eyes lifted to the heavens, lips quivering with ancient pleas. The elders led the chants, their voices hoarse with time yet unwavering in faith. Days stretched on. Our cries rose higher, stronger. Yet, the sky remained empty. Until it the last moment. Then a whisper, a promise, a wisp of white clouds on the distant horizon.

Then more, the next day, the clouds swelled, billowing titans of vapor, rolling, surging from nowhere. The air thickened, electric with anticipation. And then the first crack of thunder deep and fundamental. The sound of the thunder awakened. A bolt of lightning tore the heavens apart.

A few drops began falling. It was cool against our outstretched palms in praying, a delicate bead of life. And then more other drops followed, then another, tracing their way down our parched skin. The village stood still, breath caught between despair and hope. Then, the sky surrendered. Rain came in torrents, a furious, relentless deluge. It crashed against rooftops, soaked the dry earth. It ran down our faces, mingling with tears of joy ,tears of relief, of salvation. The ground, starved for so long, drank greedily, its fractures sealing with a satisfied sigh. Streams awoke, laughing as they rushed to reclaim their paths. Rivers roared back to life, their waters glinting like liquid silver.

For few days and nights, the rain fell allowing us time to enjoy and wondering the relief. And when the rain finally withdrew, the transformation began green, vivid, glorious, unrelenting surge. It surged across the land like an unstoppable wave, swallowing the barrenness in its relentless embrace. Hills once parched and lifeless pulsed with renewal. Valleys, once skeletal, now cradled a thick, rippling ocean of emerald grass. The mountains shed their dust-coated gloom, their rugged shoulders now cloaked in a lush, velvety mantle. And the gorges, those deep, yawning scars, became arteries of life, where water, glistening and pure, coursed through their veins.

The air pulsed with scent, thick and hope. The crisp aroma of drenched earth. The sharp, wild perfume of new leaves unfurling. The sweet, honeyed whispers of flowers awakening. Every breath tasted of growth, of renewal, of the miraculous revival of life itself.

And then, the animals came. Thunder rumbled, not from the heavens, but from the stampede of hooves that tore across the reborn plains. Buffalo surged forward in a tidal wave of muscle and momentum, their once-weak frames now filled with vigor. Antelope leaped, cutting through the grass like arrows of pure joy. Cattle bellowed, their voices thick with satisfaction, their ribs no longer etched against their hides. Bulls clashed with the might of rekindled strength, their hooves gouging the soft, fertile soil, sending dark clumps flying through the air. The cows, once weary, defeated, now pranced with a lightness they had nearly forgotten. Sheep, donkeys, horses, and mules drank deeply from the overflowing rivers, their bodies no longer shadows of hunger but sculptures of vitality.

And in the wild, the great symphony of nature roared back to life. Predators feasted. Lions, their golden coats rippling under the sun, let loose thunderous roars that shook the heavens. Packs of hyenas howled in eerie delight beneath the moonlight, their bellies round with long-denied plenty. The forests trembled with the rustling of unseen creatures, multiplying in the bounty of rebirth. Eagles soared high, piercing the heavens with their cries, their razor-sharp gaze locking onto the scurrying masses of reborn prey. The rivers, once skeletal veins of cracked earth, now pulsed with silver-scaled abundance. Fish leaped, the sun catching on their glistening forms before they plunged back into the swirling currents of life.

Beneath my feet, an unseen world awakened. Worms wriggled and churned the damp, rich soil, sculpting the foundation of rebirth. Beetles scuttled like tiny armored warriors, marching through the undergrowth. Ants, those tireless architects, rebuilt their empires, grain by grain. The very dirt hummed with purpose, the microscopic engineers of life laboring in silent victory.

I ran through the fields, my bare feet sinking into the forgiving embrace of the earth. Cool and soft, it welcomed me like an old friend. The wind kissed my skin, a breath of the wild, carrying the sweet chorus of rustling leaves and the rhythmic songs of birds drunk on the thrill of abundance. Laughter, my laughter, spilled from my lips, untamed and free. I threw my arms wide, spinning beneath the vast sky, the clouds dancing above me, their shadows playing on the rolling waves of green.

And then, in that moment of boundless wonder, I knew the miraculous color, the one that had conquered the wasteland, resurrected the lifeless, and ignited the great engine of existence is  more than beauty. More than renewal. More than a fleeting season of plenty.

It is everything, green, the color of the chloroplast, the tiny chemists within every leaf, where sunlight was captured, transmuted, woven into the fabric of life itself. The color of the only process on Earth capable of trapping the fire of the sun and forging it into sustenance. The color of the lifeline that stretched across every ecosystem, every kingdom, every creature. The color that stood between existence and oblivion.

Without green, the sun would rage in vain. The winds would howl across empty lands. The rivers would carry no purpose. The animals, the forests, the soaring eagles and roaring lions, the crawling worms and laughing hyenas none would be in existence.

And I,  I would not stand here, feet planted in the soil, lungs filled with the breath of life. A slow, trembling smile stretched across my lips as I turned my face toward the endless stretch of chromatic before me. My heart thundered in my chest with the weight of revelation, with the knowledge of what truly mattered. I spread my arms once more, embracing the world, and whispered into the wind that:"Green  is my favorite color. “And it always would be encoding the mystery of planet Earth. Today I proudly announce why green, of all the colors, is my favorite.