We’ve all heard the fable of the goose that laid golden
eggs. The farmer, blinded by greed, killed the goose hoping to harvest all the
gold at once—only to end up with a dead goose. It’s a story we laugh at, ridiculing
the farmer’s foolishness. But the truth is, greed has always been a part of
human nature. Sometimes, greed driven actions lead to nothing but disaster.
India, with its rich tapestry of climates and landscapes,
has always been a country of breathtaking beauty. Nestled in the north of the
country, the Himalayan states—Kashmir, Himachal Pradesh, and Uttarakhand—have
long held a special place in the hearts of travelers. They have always offered
serenity, peace and unmatched beauty to their visitors.
As India’s economy surged in the late twentieth century, so
did its citizens’ appetite for travel. The mountains, once quiet and pristine,
began to buzz with tourists. Locals and businesses saw an opportunity—a golden
goose in the form of tourism.
With rising tourism demand came rapid development. Hotels
sprang up to accommodate the increasing tourist influx. Markets and eateries
mushroomed to cater to every taste. Valleys were filled with concrete, and
single-lane roads lazily wrapping around the hills were ballooned into six-lane
highways by shaving and chopping the same hills they once embraced. The hills,
once defined by their serenity and peace, began to resemble the cities from
downhill.
The transformation was swift—and brutal. Forests, the lungs
of the Earth, were sacrificed for profit. The crisp mountain air, once scented
with pine, was soon overpowered by the acrid fumes of diesel and air
conditioners. The landscapes was no longer a sanctuaries, they became the
concrete jungles grown over the hills.
As the natural charm faded, a new motivation emerged: social
media validation. Pictures, reels, and hashtags took center stage. The need to
showcase the perfect vacation became another layer of greed—one that fed into
the cycle of overbuilding, over visiting, and overconsumption.
Nature, strained and suffocated, and eventually retaliated.
The delicate balance of the ecosystem started to unravel.
With fewer trees and disrupted wind patterns, clouds struggled to condense and
release rain. Until one day, they burst—dumping millions of gallons of water in
a catastrophic deluge. Landslides followed, buildings crumbled, lives were
lost.
This time, the goose didn’t die. It struck back.
The damage to humanity was devastating. But the damage to
nature was deliberate—and manmade. If we are to heal, we must first acknowledge
our role in the destruction.
Healing is not difficult, let us just:
- Plant
trees—in your backyard, in your community, anywhere you can.
- Stop
polluting rivers, forests, or anywhere.
- Create
mini forests in parks and open spaces.
- Build
harmony with nature, And let Nature be the giver as it always has been.
Nature has always been generous. It will offer golden gifts
again—if we nurture it or just stop harming it anymore. So today, make a promise. Plant a tree. Care for it.
Let it grow. And in doing so, let us grow too.
This is not just a blog. It’s a prayer—for healing, for
hope, for harmony.
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