The Last Roar, A Future Without the Sumatran Tiger

A child in Jakarta visits a zoo. She runs to the tiger enclosure, but finds only a hologram. A digital roar fills the air, loud but empty. She turns to her teacher and asks, "Was it ever real?" The answer comes with a pause: "Yes. But it disappeared before you were born".

In a village once bordered by forest, elders tell stories of nights when glowing eyes watched from the dark. The children listen, but it sounds more like legend than memory.

And the forest itself? Quiet. Without tigers, prey animals multiply. Young trees are eaten before they can grow. Rivers clog with mud. The jungle begins to collapse, slowly but surely. This isn't fantasy, it's the very real consequence of losing balance.

Hope in Small Choices

The picture doesn't have to end there. Protected parks like Gunung Leuser, Kerinci Seblat, and Bukit Barisan Selatan still hold tiger strongholds. Rangers are out there, sweating in the heat, removing snares. Communities are learning new ways to coexist.

And we, far away from Sumatra, still play a part. Choosing products not tied to deforestation. Supporting eco-tourism. Even sharing stories so the tiger's plight isn't forgotten. Small things, yes. But many small things together create space: for trees, for rivers, for life.

A Plea, Not for Pity

The tiger doesn't beg. It never did. It asks for something simple: space to live, respect to exist.

If we call ourselves the most intelligent species, then maybe the true test is not in how much we conquer, but in how much we allow others to live beside us.

I don't want future generations to know the tiger only as a logo or a hologram. I want them to feel the ground tremble with a real roar, to walk through forests that still breathe.

The choice is here, in our hands. The voice is fading. But it doesn't have to be the last roar.