Read by Matilda Longbottom

I’ve always admired banana plants—the way their enormous leaves fan out like nature’s parasols and turn any ordinary field into a scene from a tropical paradise. Living in the countryside of Tarapith, where the climate is warm and the soil fertile, I was surrounded by banana plantations. It seemed everyone had them so, naturally, I thought, “Why not me?” But as I soon learned, growing a banana plant was easier dreamed than done.

Banana saplings, as it turns out, are overachievers when it comes to root systems. Their roots spread deep and wide, as if they’re auditioning to hold up the entire Earth. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get my hands on one, let alone see it flourish in my modest garden. Still, the vision of those glossy leaves catching the morning sunlight kept me hopeful.

Then came the day of destiny. While strolling near a pond, I spotted a lush banana plantation. It was like stumbling upon the promised land! Just as I was marveling at the sight, a local villager appeared. Summoning my courage, I asked if he could help me extract a sapling. Without batting an eye, he uprooted a small plant and handed it over. I nearly wept with joy as I cradled the tiny but mighty specimen with its curvilinear roots sprawling in every direction. My banana dreams were finally taking root—literally.

Back home, I planted it immediately. It was the rainy season, perfect for banana cultivation. In what felt like no time at all, the little guy sprouted siblings. Soon, I had six banana plants standing in various stages of grandeur. But with great greenery comes great responsibility, and I was suddenly faced with a host of unexpected challenges.

First, there was the matter of space. My garden wasn’t exactly an estate, and six banana plants weren’t shy about staking their claim. I found myself weeding and rearranging my garden furniture to accommodate the growing family. Then came the cows. Yes, the neighborhood cows had discovered my garden’s leafy buffet, and they weren’t shy about helping themselves to my banana leaves poking through the fence. I’d catch them red-hoofed, chomping away like they were at an all-you-can-eat salad bar. I fortified my fence and added a few “No Trespassing” signs (purely symbolic, of course), and peace was restored—for now.

My favorite banana plant, the tallest and most elegant of the bunch, sways dramatically whenever a storm blows through, like a performer bowing after a standing ovation. I sometimes worry about how it manages to stay upright, but its resilience is a lesson in itself: nature knows how to adapt.

Though I haven’t turned my banana-growing venture into a commercial enterprise (yet), it’s been a deeply satisfying experience. There’s something profoundly rewarding about nurturing a plant and watching it thrive against all odds. Gardening, I’ve learned, isn’t just about growing plants—it’s about cultivating patience, creativity, and a sense of humor (especially when cows are involved). ❖

About the Author: Swadha Nandy is a passionate writer and avid gardener who finds joy in blending humor and nature in her storytelling. When she isn’t battling mischievous cows or coaxing banana plants to flourish, she loves exploring the intersection of education, technology, and personal growth. With aspirations to write books on diverse topics, Swadha hopes to inspire readers with her tales of resilience, curiosity, and a touch of tropical flair.