Braveheart, or... Bihar?

50 kilometers north of Saharsa, Bihar, after 2 hours on a rocky, bumpy, 1-way, and mostly unpaved road, I came upon a small village of 250 or so that looked a little like something out of Braveheart. Here's what I saw:

bamboo, stick, and mud huts, some listing far to the left or right, and topped with thatch roofs
lopsided stick fences
big bushels of hay
tied-up cows
goats, sheep, chickens running around
a man on a plow pulled by 2 cows, tilling a field
naked children

It was set on a lush, green backdrop. Fields upon fields of grasses and lettuce, yellow mustard seed and large oak trees. A deep green as far as the eye could see.

I had heard about "the village" in India, but this was my first time. Bihar is the poorest state in India, and I was in the thick of the rural part. I have been telling people that India is completely different from anything I've ever seen. This just reinforced it.

After 2 and a half hours in the village, I learned the following:

1. People seemed to stare less. I discovered this, to my great pleasure. It is the opposite of what I thought logic would dictate -- that the village people, having probably seen less foreigners in their lives, would stare more. But I think, rather, that the village people, caring less about me and more about their daily labors and feeding the 4 or 5 or 6 mouths in their household, are simply not interested.

2. Even with no visible electricity, modern technology, or mass communication system, cricket reigned supreme. It is unstoppable, border-permeating, that crazy game. 

3. Just as in America, people like to dress up their animals. At least 75% of the cows wore homemade sweaters. Now, these were no Beverly Hills chihuahuas, but they still wore it well, from basic rags to form-fitting checkered patterns.

4. Although they look cool, climbing bamboo/stick ladders is not for the faint of heart. With every step, the rungs bend under your weight, leading you to believe your next step will be your last. But, the ladders always seem to hold it together. Plus one point to village carpenters.

Interspersed between the mud and stick huts were the big, colorful bamboo and concrete houses that our artisans had helped the villagers build to replace houses destroyed after the Aug '08 floods. They displayed the houses and the contents inside with pride.

Naked babies ran around, and the incessant noises of goats and cows could be heard throughout.

I had discovered that, eight hours outside of the metropolitan capital Patna, this entirely different world of mud huts and bamboo ladders existed, seemingly centuries behind in technology, living content, simple lives in tune with the fertile, yet sometimes unforgiving, land. 

Fun time! Below are a few pictures. Are they from Bihar, or... Braveheart? Keep count!