Basanalgaon sits quietly in the hills of the Syaldey Block in Almora district, Uttarakhand. Around 456 people live here in about 123 households. The village has more women than men, a sex ratio of 1,224 females per 1,000 males, which is higher than the state average. Adults here are well educated: literacy runs around 87.63 %.
When you walk into Basanalgaon, the slopes and terraced fields greet you first. Then the houses, simple and constant, have been constructed to last. The air smells of pine, damp earth, and effort. The sky feels huge, and the village feels rooted.
Basanalgaon covers nearly 60 hectares of land. The roads lead up via forests of alder and pine. Farm plots step down the hill like a staircase of green. From a vantage point, you’ll see the ridges rising behind, the valleys disappearing ahead. Here, people speak Hindi and Kumaoni. A “राम राम” greets you before any other words. The welcome feels as old as the hills.
Life in Basanalgaon revolves around farming, or कृषि. Of the working population, 161 people are main cultivators, people who own or co-own land and work it themselves. Another 150 are marginal cultivators, working less than half the year.
The land here is not flat. It’s sloped. Terraces are narrow. Rain matters. So does community. Farming isn’t about big machines. It’s about hands, soil, and timing. Families help each other. Children walk to nearby schools. The older folk remember every shift of the sun.
Evening settles quietly. A goat bell rings. Someone lights a stove. Conversations drift uphill. Fields turn dark green in the fading light. Life slows, but it doesn’t stop.
In Basanalgaon, tradition lived in the everyday. Festivals feel warm. Everyone gathers. Food is served simply. मंडुवा रोti, भात की दाल, wild-herb chutneys, fresh ghee if the season allows. The taste of home.
Neighbours know each other’s children. They share tools and time. When the rains come, when the harvest is due, when someone is sick, the village responds. The hills teach you patience. They teach you connection.
Life here has its share of reality checks. The terrain is steep. Roads are narrow. Sometimes the school or health centre is far and the path is rough. Farming depends on rain. When it doesn’t come, the whole village feels it.
And yes, many young people leave for towns in search of education or work. They call it पलायन. The village stays, but the rhythm changes. Still, people don’t give up. They learn. They adapt. The hills keep them humbly steady.
Basanalgaon doesn’t want grand transformations. It wants support that fits the hillside, roads that last the monsoon, scooters or small vehicles that pass when the terrain allows, support for terrace farming or small-scale processing of local produce, maybe homes for guests who come not for luxury but for quiet. If young people find work near home and the land offers a little more, then families may stay. The village may remain alive in its own way.
If you visit Basanalgaon, keep your eyes open for small things: the drip of water on a leaf, the sound of women talking while harvesting, the way the clouds move slowly above the valley.
When you walk away, you’ll carry something different, a sense of ease, of belonging, of time that doesn’t press you. Basanalgaon may be small by numbers, but large by heart. Because in a world that often chases fast, here the hills teach you something essential: the value of being steady, being real, being home.
Uttarakhand is not simply another country. People here name it Devbhoomi (देवभूमि), the Land of the Gods. And it feels that way. Rivers begin right here. Old temples sit on mountain tops. Morning dayl...