The Mustard Fields of Mithila: A Farmer's Story
As told by Ranjit Kumar, a third-generation mustard farmer from Baheri block, Darbhanga district, Bihar.
Every November, when the Ganga has receded and the soil is still moist from the floods, I walk out into my field and scatter mustard seeds.
By January, those seeds become a carpet of gold stretching from my doorstep to the horizon. My daughter calls it sone ki chadar — a golden sheet. She's right.
Three Generations in the Same Field
My grandfather farmed this land. My father farmed this land. I farm this land. The soil knows us. And we know the soil.
We grow Desi sarso — the original local variety of mustard that has been cultivated in Mithila for centuries. It's smaller than the hybrid seeds the government promotes, but its flavour is incomparable.
One acre yields about 6–8 quintals of seeds. After pressing, that gives us roughly 180–200 litres of mustard oil. But we never sell all of it. Some is kept for cooking. Some for our cows. Some for the weddings of our daughters, where mustard oil is rubbed on the bride before her bath — a tradition as old as memory.
Cold-Pressed, Not Refined
When I was young, every village had a kolhu — a wooden oil press, rotated by a bullock. The oil that came out was raw, pungent, alive.
Today, most oil is extracted in factories at high heat using chemical solvents. This kills the nutrients, destroys the flavour, and removes the character.
We still press our oil the old way — slowly, at room temperature, in a motor-driven expeller that mimics the kolhu. This is cold-pressed mustard oil. Its colour is deep amber. Its smell hits you before the bottle is even open. One teaspoon in your dal and you know it's real.
The Problem with Modern Farming
I will be honest. Things have changed.
Fertilisers have increased our yields but weakened our soil. Groundwater levels are dropping. The rains come later each year. My son wants to move to Patna for a government job.
But I stay. Because someone has to keep this alive.
Why Farm-to-Table Matters
When you buy mustard oil from a supermarket, you are buying a product that has passed through a dozen hands, been stored in plastic for months, and mixed with oil from five different states.
When you buy from MithilaWaale, you are buying from farmers like me. You know the district. You know the season. You can almost smell the field.
That's not just oil. That's a story.
"The earth gives without asking. The least we can do is grow with gratitude." — Ranjit Kumar, Darbhanga, Bihar
MithilaWaale partners directly with mustard farmers in Darbhanga and Samastipur districts to bring you cold-pressed mustard oil — harvested in season, pressed fresh, and shipped to your home.
