Ravi hesitated for a brief moment before tightening his grip on the small, dirty bottle. It felt heavier than it should have. Not because of its size, but because of what it seemed to carry. Years of neglect. Careless habits. Things people had thrown away without a second thought.

He wiped some of the grime with his sleeve. Faded markings circled the rim of the bottle. They were uneven and worn, as if time itself had tried to erase them. Ravi did not know what they meant, but he knew one thing clearly.

This was not just trash. He looked around. People sat weakly by the roadside. Garbage lay piled in corners. The well nearby gave off a foul smell. Ravi felt a tightness in his chest. This place was suffering, and not because of one big mistake, but because of many small ones.

Suddenly, it felt familiar.

Maybe this place was not very different from his own world. Ravi did not throw the bottle back. He held on to it and began to walk. His eyes searched the street. Somewhere, there had to be a dustbin. Holding the bottle felt strange at first. It was uncomfortable. But he kept going. Then he saw it.

A dustbin stood near the corner of the street. It was old and overflowing, but it was still there. Still meant to be used. Ravi walked up to it and dropped the bottle inside. The sound was soft. A simple clink.

But what followed was not simple. A gentle wind swept through the alley. Wrappers and debris lifted from the ground. Piles of waste faded away, as if the earth was slowly healing itself. The air grew lighter. The foul smell disappeared, replaced by the fresh scent of wet soil.

People stopped coughing. Color returned to their faces. One by one, they turned toward Ravi. A small child ran forward and held his hand. The child smiled. Ravi felt his eyes sting. The street felt calm, as if it had been holding its breath for a long time and had finally released it. Ravi’s vision blurred for a moment.

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What did Ravi Do?