Back in the quiet of my study, I surrounded myself with the tools of my academic training. I needed to move beyond emotion and observation. I needed to understand the enemy at a molecular level. I pulled out my old textbooks and accessed some environment related books, some research papers and some WUCMA papers I had collected over the years. The subject was simple on the surface, but terrifying in its depth -Polyethylene.

I began to write, my notes becoming a lecture to myself. Polyethylene, or polythene, was a polymer consisting of long chains of ethylene monomers. It was created through a process of polymerization, where heat and pressure turned a simple gas into a solid, incredibly durable material. The carbon-to-carbon bonds in these chains were some of the strongest in nature. “That is the tragedy” I whispered, my pen flying across the page. We have created something that nature does not know how to break.
In the natural world, everything has a predator or a process of decay. Wood is broken down by fungi and bacteria. Metal is oxidized by air and water. But plastic? Plastic was an alien. To a bacterium, a plastic bag was not food; it was an impenetrable wall. Because no organisım had evolved to eat the carbon-carbon bonds of synthetic polymers, the material was essentially immortal on a human timescale.
I looked at the 'daily bags' I had collected and counted. They were made of Low-Density Polyethylene (LDPE), a version of the polymer that was flexible and cheap. But cheapness did not mean weakness. An LDPE bag could take up to a thousand years to decompose in a landfill. And even then, it didn't really 'decompose' in the biological sense. It just fragmented.
I thought about the toothbrush I had seen in the stream. It was slowly shedding millions of microscopic particles, each one a tiny sponge for other toxins. Microplastics had a high surface area that attracted persistent organic pollutants like pesticides and industrial chemicals. When a fish in the lake swallowed a microplastic, it wasn't just eating plastic, it was eating a concentrated pill of poison.
This was the crisis of microplastics. I read further into the recent studies. When plastic was exposed to ultraviolet light from the sun or physical friction like from the waves in Wullar Lake, it became brittle. It broke into smaller and smaller pieces, eventually reaching a size where it was invisible to the naked eye. These microplastics were now everywhere in the air they breathed, the water they drank, and the soil of the paddy fields.
I thought about the toothbrush I had seen in the stream. It was slowly shedding millions of microscopic particles, each one a tiny sponge for other toxins. Microplastics had a high surface area that attracted persistent organic pollutants like pesticides and industrial chemicals. When a fish in the lake swallowed a microplastic, it wasn't just eating plastic; it was eating a concentrated pill of poison.
“The bioaccumulation, " I noted, underlining the word three times. The poison didn't stay in the fish. It moved up the food chain. From the fish to the larger predators, and eventually to the humans who sat at the top. The people of the Mohalla, who prided themselves on their fresh, local diet, were unknowingly consuming the very waste they had discarded months or years before. The cycle was complete, and it was lethal.
Uzma came into the room, bringing a cup of tea. She looked at the diagrams of molecular chains on my desk. “It looks like a prison”, she said. “It is a prison” I agreed. “A prison for the earth. These chains are so long and so strong that they lock the carbon away from the natural cycle. Every gram of plastic we produce is a gram of material removed from the life-giving processes of the planet. And as it breaks down into microplastics, it becomes a ghost that haunts our very cells.”
I explained to her the concept of endocrine disruptors, chemicals like bisphenol A and phthalates that were often added to plastics to give them specific properties. These chemicals could leach out of the plastic and interfere with the hormones in the human body, leading to a host of health problems, from developmental issues in children to reproductive failures in adults. “The diapers,” Uzma said, her voice soft with realization. “The ones the dogs tear apart in the fields. The fluff that blows into the water.” “Exactly” I said. “It's not just an eyesore, Uzma. It's a chemical assault. We are bathing our children and our crops in a soup of synthetic hormones and toxic polymers. And because we can't see the microplastics, we pretend they aren't there.”
I felt a sense of profound responsibility. As an educated boy, I couldn't claim ignorance. I knew chemistry. I knew the long term consequences. The 'simple practice' of counting bags was no longer just about waste management, it is about public health. It is about the survival of our genetic legacy.
I looked at my notebook, at the number 1,800. That wasn't just 1,800 bags. These were 1,800 potential sources of microplastics. These were 1,800 chemical bombs waiting to go off in the environment. I realized that the academic style of my writing needed to be matched with a narrative of urgency. I had to tell the story of the molecule to the people who only saw the bag. I stood up, my mind made up. I needed to confront the source of the flow in my village. I needed to talk to the men who provided the bags, the gatekeepers of the plastic tide. I had to see if I could break the chains of convenience with the weight of the truth.
I delve into the terrifying chemistry of polyethylene, realizing that plastic never truly disappears but instead breaks down into toxic microplastics. A confrontation with the local shopkeepers will soon test my ability to turn academic knowledge into social change.

Email:-----------------------------saltafrasool@yahoo.com