I am blessed to have been born in a beautiful village endowed with greenery in abundance, and as I glanced out the window, amidst many trees, the great banyan tree, as always, catches my attention.

At the first glance, it looks like any other tree, but when you think about it, you will notice that a banyan tree is more than just a tree; it is a civilisation, a world in itself. It is home to various different kinds of animals. Squirrels scurry up and down its coarse brown bark all day, birds trust it with their eggs, insects feel it to be their universe, and cats spend their days on its branches. Weary travellers let go of their aches when lying down in the ample shade offered by this tree. Many feuds, big and small, have been solved by the village elders under the sprawling canopy of this marvel. It has been standing in the same spot for decades unaffected by the changing seasons and has seen the world changing and evolving around it through the years. It has witnessed generations flourish and perish. Its strong branches have held hundreds of swings. People call it the walking tree, but I would think of it as the talking tree. It has heard many stories through the years. What the barber ate for breakfast, why the students were grumbling, the juicy evening gossips of the women-folk, the tree knows it all. I feel that the tree has listened to many sermons of wise sages and has acquired more wisdom than probably anyone in the world.