The Smartphone Jungle – A Free Kids’ eBook

The Smartphone Jungle and Dhyanu the Elephant" In the heart of a distant green land, far beyond mountains and mist, there lay a magical place called Janglewood — a jungle unlike any other. Birds sang tunes that sounded like lullabies, streams giggled like tiny children, and the trees whispered ancient stories when the wind passed through their leaves. But something had changed. Janglewood wasn’t what it used to be. Animals

no longer danced or played under the moonlight. They didn’t race by the riverside or sing morning songs anymore. They were all too busy… staring at glowing rectangles. It had started slowly. First, the monkeys found an old smartphone that a camper had left behind. They played with the shiny screen and laughed when the lights blinked. Soon, they taught the parrots to play music apps. The parrots taught the

raccoons, the raccoons told the deer, and before long… Everyone had a phone. The jungle buzzed, not with bees, but with notifications. The cheetahs no longer raced. They just played racing games. The owls didn’t read the stars; they read tweets. Even the crocodiles stopped snapping and started swiping. One by one, the animals stopped doing what made them… well, animals. They forgot the sound of the river. They forgot

the smell of rain. They forgot each other. Now, deep in the jungle lived an old, gentle elephant named Dhyanu. He was slow. Not just in walking, but in speaking, thinking, and living. While everyone else was chasing the next app or notification, Dhyanu would sit beneath the Bodhi tree, eyes closed, breathing deep and slow. “Why don’t you get a phone?” asked a squirrel one day. “I already have

everything I need,” Dhyanu replied, with a soft smile. He would sit for hours, still as a statue, while birds perched on his back and butterflies danced around his trunk. Many called him boring. Some called him weird. But Dhyanu was happy. Truly, deeply, peacefully happy. And when the jungle started to fall apart, he was the only one who noticed. It started with small things. The bees flew into

trees because they were watching bee videos. The deer tripped over roots while trying to take perfect “forest selfies.” The panthers started wearing glasses because their eyes got tired from screens. Even the jungle’s heart — the Great River — began to dry a little. “Something is wrong,” whispered the wind to Dhyanu one evening. “They’re forgetting us…” Dhyanu opened his eyes slowly. He looked around — animals bumping into

trees, ignoring each other, laughing at screens but forgetting to feel joy. He knew he had to act. But how? The next morning, Dhyanu slowly made his way to the tallest hill in Janglewood. His feet thudded softly on the grass, his breath deep and calm. He let out a long, low trumpet that echoed across the jungle. The animals barely looked up. So he tried something else. He sat.

And stayed. For three days. No food. No movement. No words. Just deep breaths. Just stillness. On the fourth day, the parrots noticed. “Why is he just sitting there?” The monkeys whispered, “Maybe he’s buffering…” The tiger rolled his eyes but watched. And then… the owl said something that made everyone pause. > “Maybe he’s… enjoying something we’ve forgotten.” Curious, the animals approached Dhyanu one by one. “What are you

doing?” asked the raccoons. “Watching the inside of the jungle,” he whispered. They looked confused. Dhyanu raised his trunk and pointed to the Flashback Tree — an ancient tree with golden bark and silver leaves that glowed only when someone was truly present. “Sit,” he said. “And breathe.” The tiger laughed. “Breathe? That’s it?” “Try,” Dhyanu smiled. So they did. One by one, the animals gathered around the tree. They

put down their phones — just for a moment. They closed their eyes. And breathed. Something strange began to happen. The Flashback Tree glowed. The silver leaves shimmered. And suddenly, each animal began seeing something from their past. The monkeys remembered when they used to swing from vines and laugh in the rain. The deer remembered how fun it was to race through tall grass with friends. The parrots saw

the sky — real sky, not wallpapers — and heard the jungle’s heartbeat again. Tears rolled down the raccoon’s face. “I forgot how alive I used to feel…” The more they breathed, the more they remembered. Dhyanu nodded. “This… is now. This is where joy lives. Not on screens. Not in likes. But in leaves. In wind. In real, living things.” The animals decided to try something wild. They turned

off the jungle’s Wi-Fi. No more updates. No more alerts. Just the sound of real birds, not recordings. They danced beneath waterfalls. They played tag in the moonlight. The wolves howled real music again. Of course, it wasn’t easy. Some felt restless. Some reached for their phones out of habit. Some snuck behind trees and scrolled. But slowly, gently, they started feeling something better than entertainment. They felt… peace. They

felt… together. Days turned to weeks. The Great River, once fading, flowed fuller again. The wind blew sweeter. The soil grew richer. New flowers bloomed — ones that hadn’t been seen in years. And the jungle pulsed with color, sound, and life. Dhyanu became a gentle guide, not a leader. He taught anyone who asked — how to sit, breathe, listen, and feel. They called him “The Still One.” Children

born after that time were told bedtime stories, not of glowing screens, but of the day their parents learned to see again. Years later, a young bear cub found an old phone in the dirt. Its screen was cracked, its buttons dusty. He picked it up, turned it over, and looked at Dhyanu. “What’s this?” Dhyanu smiled. “It’s a tool.” “For what?” “For forgetting the world… or remembering it —

depending on how you use it.” The cub looked at the flowers around him. The colors. The warm sunlight. He placed the phone back on the ground and ran to join his friends. The jungle had spoken. And this time, the animals had listened.

The End