Yaar, those tiny fig wasps? They get completely lost inside that small, closed fruit—our *gular*—and in their struggle, they end up pollinating it. Then, their whole life cycle happens right there; they lay eggs and die inside the very fig they helped create. But on my land, our old banyan hardly ever fruits! So all this complex talk feels… distant. What I see are the birds and the wind carrying its seeds, making new trunks right from my compound wall. That’s the real miracle for me.
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