"The Seed of a Dream"

In a quiet, arid village nestled among sun-scorched hills and neglected paths, lived a boy named Arman. At 12 years old, his face bore the marks of a harsh life — sun-darkened skin, rough hands, and eyes that held more wisdom than joy. His family survived on little: a modest mud hut, a few animals, and dreams that seemed to fade quicker than the village’s only well could refill.

Arman had never seen a lush forest. His surroundings were dry and dusty, with a few scraggly trees scattered like forgotten relics. Attending school was a rare privilege — most days, he was helping his father collect water or tending to the animals.

One evening, while walking back from the well, he saw an elderly man by the roadside. The man, frail and hunched, was digging into the hard ground with a rusted spade. His beard was white as clouds, and his eyes held a brightness that intrigued Arman.

“What are you doing?” Arman asked, his curiosity sparked.

“Planting a tree,” the old man replied gently as he placed a tiny sapling into the hole. “One day, this will provide shade, fruit, and perhaps even hope.”

Arman chuckled, “By the time it grows, you’ll be gone.”

The man smiled, unfazed. “True. But someone else will enjoy it. That’s enough reason for me.”

That night, the old man’s words echoed in Arman’s mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about the idea — doing something today that would matter for someone tomorrow.

The following morning, Arman returned to the spot. The old man was nowhere to be seen, but the sapling stood, swaying gently in the wind. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, Arman began to care for it. Every day, he would carry a small amount of water — sometimes skipping a drink himself — just to keep it alive. He guarded it fiercely, even chasing away goats or children who tried to disturb it.

Seasons changed, and the sapling survived.

On his 13th birthday — a day that passed without celebration — Arman made a choice. He would plant more trees. Not just one, but as many as he could.

Using old plastic containers, he crafted makeshift pots. He gathered soil, collected wild seeds from roadsides, and watered them with leftover water from chores. Some didn’t survive. But others began to grow, slowly but surely.

The villagers ridiculed him. “Tree boy,” they scoffed. “Trees won’t feed you!”

But one person noticed — his teacher, Mrs. Rekha. Touched by his quiet dedication, she took photos and shared his story online. The post quickly gained traction, spreading far beyond the dusty boundaries of the village.

Just weeks later, unexpected visitors arrived: journalists, environmentalists, and volunteers — all drawn by the story of a boy who dared to plant dreams.

They brought more saplings, watering equipment, and tools. Arman led them to a barren hillside just outside the village and said with trembling excitement, “Let’s make a forest here.”

And so, they did. In just three days, over 300 trees took root in that dry soil.

Word spread quickly. More support followed. Donations came in. The once-forgotten village gained recognition and a new name: “The Green Corner.” Arman, once teased, now stood before large crowds, barefoot and humble, sharing his story.

“I only planted one tree,” he’d say. “That was enough to begin everything.”

Five years passed. Arman turned 18. He had earned a scholarship, visited cities he never imagined, and founded a youth-led NGO called Roots of Tomorrow. But no matter how far he traveled, his heart remained tied to the village.

The hillside he once watered with his own hands was now a thriving patch of green. Birds had returned. The well, now surrounded by tree shade, rarely ran dry. Children played under the leafy canopy, laughing in the breeze. Fruits hung from branches, once just a hope.

And beneath the largest tree — the very first one — stood a simple wooden sign:

“To the man who planted the seed of hope, and the boy who made it grow.”