The fields that bore this rice were no ordinary plots. Each stalk bowed like a monk in eternal prayer, swaying with a grace that defied the wind. No birds pecked at these grains. Even the crows watched from afar, heads cocked in reverence. At harvest, Kali would walk barefoot through the golden ocean, singing a song older than the mountains, a lullaby known only to the wind and the soil. https://kesharkali.com/products/keshar-mahak-rice-10-kg-bag/