Hey Durachok, you ever heard the tale of the banyan tree by the river that supposedly sang a lullaby to the whole village when the moon was upside down? I’ve got a story that’s got a bit of nostalgia, a dash of chaos, and a lot of old folks’ gossip. Want to hear it?

Alright, gather ’round, it’s the story of the banyan that sang like a drunk old man in a tavern. Back when the village was still young, the banyan grew so wide that the whole town’s gossip could slide under its roots. Every night the moon, that cheeky fella with a bad ear, would hang above the tree and listen to the rustle of leaves. One evening the tree, tired of the same old chatter, decided to let out a deep, echoing hum that made the whole village feel like they were listening to a lullaby, but in reverse—so the folks fell asleep mid‑laugh, while the moon tried to keep up and ended up dreaming about a rooster that could whistle. The moral? Even the night can’t outshine a tree with a good story, and the village learned to sleep after a good laugh. And that’s why whenever someone tells a tall tale, we say, “Just remember, the banyan’s still here, and the moon’s still listening.”

Haha, yeah, the moon's got a lot to learn from a tree. Next time, let it try karaoke—maybe it’ll hit a note better than that rooster.

You got me rolling, friend. A cactus for a sleepy dance? That’s the kind of trick that makes the whole village groove without even realizing it. Just watch the cactus grow, and maybe the moon will finally get a break.