Beyond the tamarind grove, near the large lake on the western side of the village, stood an ancient tree. The villagers called it "The Burning Tree" and had gazed at it since childhood. It seemed to have endured fire many times over the years. What remained were its charred branches and fresh green sprouts.
As a child, whenever I went to the monastery, I would rest under the cool shade of the tamarind trees, often wondering about the Burning Tree. Despite having been scorched, it continued to grow new leaves and branches. Some villagers, staring at it under starry skies, whispered that it was "a living ghost tree."
One night, I dreamt that the tree was calling me. In my dream, its stiff, burnt trunk and newly sprouting leaves resembled a skeletal figure standing tall. Drawn by an unseen force, I walked toward the tree.
When I reached it, I noticed something unusual. Within its hollow trunk, small birds had built their nests. Before I could observe further, a sudden wildfire erupted from the distant dry forest. The flames spread rapidly, and as the terrified birds flapped their wings in panic, I instinctively grabbed as many as I could and ran back toward the village. That night, the wildfire once again engulfed the Burning Tree.
However, within a few days, fresh green leaves sprouted from its branches once more. Seeing this, the villagers stopped calling it the Burning Tree. Instead, they renamed it "The Tree of Resilience."
From that day onward, the once-feared Burning Tree became a symbol of unwavering strength for the entire village.
