A plateful of rice may be considered an unhealthy overindulgence for those of us with sedentary lifestyles. Yet the Bangalee spirit cannot be satisfied in any other way. Despite health warnings, we savour each morsel of that white, fluffy carbohydrate, a staple for most of the population. Rarely do we, however, think of the hands behind it all—the endless hours spent planting, cultivating, threshing, and drying before the grain finally makes its way to our kitchens. Most of us urbanites remain distanced, physically and emotionally, from the farmers who break their backs to grow food, not just rice, for the nation.

How many of us know, for example, that acres upon acres of Boro paddy in the haor region have been submerged in water after torrential rains even before the monsoon? It is just as unlikely that we know about the farmers who, after helplessly watching their precious crops ruined, have collapsed and died of hear . Fifty-five-year-old Ahad Mia of Nasirnagar upazila in Brahmanbaria is one of them, who could not bear the sight of his ready-to-harvest paddy submerged in sudden rain. On Saturday, he lost consciousness on the spot and died soon after, his final thoughts perhaps of his family, how they would survive, or how they would repay the loan he had taken to cultivate the land.