Under The Banyan Tree and Other Stories

Under the Banyan Tree and Other Stories is a collection of short stories by R. K. Narayan, set in and around the fictitious town of Malgudi in South India. The stories range from the humorous to the serious and all are filled with Narayan's acute observations of human nature. The concluding story, Under the Banyan Tree, is about a village story-teller who concludes his career by taking a vow of silence for the rest of his life, realizing that a story-teller must have the sense to know when to stop and not wait for others to tell him.

R. K. Narayan
Main articles
  • R. K. Narayan
  • Malgudi
  • Indian Thought Publications
Novels
  • Swami and Friends
  • The Bachelor of Arts
  • The Dark Room
  • The English Teacher
  • Mr. Sampath - The Printer of Malgudi
  • The Financial Expert
  • Waiting for the Mahatma
  • The Guide
  • The Man-Eater of Malgudi
  • The Vendor of Sweets
  • The Painter of Signs
  • A Tiger for Malgudi
  • Talkative Man
  • The World of Nagaraj
  • Grandmother's Tale
Collections
  • Malgudi Days
  • An Astrologer's Day and Other Short Stories
  • Lawley Road and Other Stories
  • A Horse and Two Goats and Other Stories
  • Under the Banyan Tree and Other Stories
  • The Grandmother's Tale and Selected Stories
Non-fiction
  • Next Sunday
  • My Dateless Diary
  • My Days
  • Reluctant Guru
  • The Emerald Route
  • A Writer's Nightmare
Mythology
Gods, Demons and Others
The Ramayana
The Mahabharata
Screen adaptations
  • Guide
  • Malgudi Days
  • Miss Malini


Famous quotes containing the words tree and/or stories:

    “What signify a few lives lost in a century or two? The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure.”
    —Thomas Jefferson (1743–1826)

    “Every one of my friends had a bad day somewhere in her history she wished she could forget but couldn’t. A very bad mother day changes you forever. Those were the hardest stories to tell. . . . “I could still see the red imprint of his little bum when I changed his diaper that night. I stared at my hand, as if they were alien parts of myself . . . as if they had betrayed me. From that day on, I never hit him again.””
    —Mary Kay Blakely (20th century)