Life in Fields During October

For many, autumn is a season of winding down. But here in Kaluwala, as the monsoon's green fades and a crispness enters the air, October is the busiest, most critical month in the farmer's calendar. It is a time of intense activity, a bridge between two seasons, where the hard work of one harvest immediately gives way to the hopeful preparation for the next. The village, cradled by its forests and mountains, turns its full attention to the fields in a race against time.

This month is a story in two parts: the celebration of a harvest earned, and the urgent, careful preparation for a harvest to come.

Reaping the Golden Harvest

The first, and most visible, job of October is the rice harvest. This is the culmination of the long, wet Kharif season. Our fields, which have been a sea of lush green for months, transform into a golden landscape. This region is known for its high-quality rice, including the fragrant Basmati, and harvesting it is a hands-on, communal effort.

You see the farmers in the fields from dawn, cutting the rice stalks by hand with sharp sickles, just as generations have done before. The cut stalks are bundled and often left to dry for a few days in the autumn sun.

Then comes the "processing," as you call it—the threshing. The sound of threshing machines fills the air, a rhythmic hum that separates the valuable grain from the stalk. This process is dusty, tiring work, but it’s the moment of truth. The result is twofold: the precious rice grains that will feed families through the year, and massive, fragrant piles of rice straw, known as parali. This straw is a valuable resource in itself, carefully stacked and stored as dry fodder for the village's cattle, a vital part of their year-long sustenance.

Preparing the Land for New Life

There is no rest. The moment the rice is off the field, the land, now hard and depleted, must be prepared for the Rabi (winter) crop—most often, wheat. This turnaround is a masterclass in traditional, sustainable wisdom.

First, the fields must be cleared and fed. This happens in two ways. You'll see farmers spreading "black gold" across their land: the rich, dark cow manure that has been composted throughout the entire year from the village's own cows. This is the heart of our organic cycle, returning vital nutrients to the soil far better than any chemical fertilizer.

At the same time, the remaining rice stubble must be managed. In a tradition that goes back centuries, this residue is often burned. The fire moves quickly across the fields, and while it may look stark, it serves a direct purpose: it clears the field in a single day and returns nutrient-rich ash, particularly potash, to the earth. This practice acts as a natural fertilizer, preparing the seedbed for the new crop.

Quenching the Land's Thirst

After months of growing a water-intensive crop like rice, the soil is left parched, hard, and cracked under the sun. It’s too firm for a plough to break. This is where the final, crucial step of October comes in: giving water back to the soil.

This isn't irrigation for a crop, but for the land itself. It’s a "pre-watering" to soften the earth and, as you so perfectly put it, "regain its strength."

This is when the village's lifeline, its network of small irrigation canals, springs into action. These channels, known locally as 'gools' or 'kools', are a traditional marvel. They are gravity-fed waterways that carefully divert the life-giving water of the Song River and guide it into the thirsty fields.

As the water seeps in, the parched brown earth darkens, and the land becomes pliable. Only then can the tractors or bulls pull the ploughs through, turning the soil and making it ready for the winter wheat.

By the end of October, the cycle is complete. The golden harvest is stored, and the fields, now ploughed and watered, are ready to receive the seeds that hold the promise of the next harvest. It is a month of endings and beginnings, a perfect snapshot of the farmer's unending, vital dance with the seasons.