The olive tree, out of a habit of endless grumbling, said, "I can't even sway the way I like."

"You are doing it now," retorted the expansive banyan.

"You're a bigot," said the olive tree.

"The wind," said the banyan, "carries even the rustle of your leaves to faraway lands."

"You are blocking the wind deliberately by your unwieldy spread," accused the olive tree, even as a breeze gently swayed the shiny olives.

"The trouble with you," said the banyan, "is that you consider this soil as filth, and your roots grow shallow as if they were disgusted."

"You make too much of roots," said the olive tree, "because you have a habit of sprouting roots from anywhere."

The banyan swayed silently.

"Look at me," went on the olive tree. "I have grown on this soil and my leaves are lush."

"So are the weeds over there," said the banyan.

The olive tree, which had not deigned the existence of weeds until then, said, "What do I care of those puny weeds? They're useless to me."

"Useless?" asked the banyan. "How are you useful at all?"

"Look at my glorious fruits, glabrous and sophisticated," said the olive tree.

"Glabrous?" laughed the banyan. "Have you been listening to the casuarina again?"

The olive tree sheepishly nodded.

The casuarina tree had a fine crown of slender, snaky leaves which rippled when the wind flicked them, and was known to whisper complex words no one could get.

"Anyway," said the olive tree, "the roots matter less. Deep roots only attract deep rots."

The banyan tree considered its sprawling roots, and said, "The rot, if that's what you call it, and the weeds too, are as much a part of you and me as you are I are a part of this forest."

"A fig for the forest," said the olive tree, disgusted. "I belong to no one, and I stand tall despite your ploy of blocking wind, water, sunlight, rain and even those furry squirrels."

"The furry squirrels don't go to you," said the banyan, "because they don't like your fruits."

"How can they *not* like my fruits when they nibble at the bitter neem?" shouted the olive tree, swaying dangerously in anger.

"The neem," said the banyan, "is bitter, but is one of us."

"They like the mango too!"

"The mango," said the banyan, "is sweet, but is one of us."

"Now I see the plan in all its vain glory," said the olive tree. "Us versus them!"

"We didn't start the fire," said the banyan. "Why don't you show some respect to other denizens of the forest instead of insulting them?"

"You are a patreearchal bigot," said the olive tree.

"Come now," said the banyan. "Drop the victim drama altogether. Show some respect, and I will ignore when you talk about how great for health olives are."

"You are no better than those weeds," said the olive tree.

"The weeds are annoying," said the banyan, "but are one of us."

Suddenly, the wind whistled loudly as it sped through the forest. Above, the Sun was hidden behind dark clouds that welled up with rains, as if carrying some heavy secret.

"What's happening?" asked the olive tree.

"Cyclone Bhavani," said the wind. "May your roots be strong." //