Harvest Time
There’s no doubt about it—summer is definitely over. Autumn is here, and the nights have a wintery chill to them. Along with autumn in North India comes the rice harvest. The rice was planted in the spring, shortly after we arrived, so seeing it harvested gives us the feeling of reaching a milestone of sorts. We’ve lived here through the lifecycle of one crop!
As we walked to our language lessons in the spring, we watched the rice fields being prepared. The heavy black earth was cultivated by plowing oxen or by tractor. The terraces were carefully leveled out before being flooded from the mountain streams, full with melted snow. The farmers planted their rice seed in small sections, close together. 
After the rice plants had sprouted, the tedious work of transplanting the seedlings began, row after row of neon-green shoots into the flooded terraces. The farmers performed this back-breaking work with grace and efficiency. Then, through the summer, the rice grew in vivid green waves, waist-high by September. 
When our area was hit by historic flooding last month, we worried about the rice harvest. But rice is a crop that’s made for marshes, and as long as its roots remain anchored in the mud and its leaf tips can reach a little air and sun, rice can handle a lot of water. So the harvest has come! As they dried out, the fields turned golden, and then brown. The farmers brought out their short sickles and cut the rice stems close to the ground, then stacked them in the fields. 
At the edge of one field I watched a group of men separating the grain from the harvested stalks—they grabbed handfuls of the rice stalks, then hit them against a metal drum lying on its side! After a few minutes of beating, the grain had all fallen onto a tarp laid on the ground under the drum, and the empty stalks were tossed aside to store for winter animal feed.
Very soon the last of the rice will have been harvested and stored away, and the fields will be empty but for short dry stubble. My husband came home yesterday with a sack of rice, purchased directly from a local farmer. It’s a new experience to know exactly where the rice we are eating comes from! Rice now means more than food to me; it means beauty, and community, and hope for the future.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged rice harvest by Lisa