It came wafting on the air from the bamboo thatch lean-to beside a traditional two-story home belonging to an elderly farmer, Thoeba, and his wife, Choengyim. As they saw us approaching, the couple stepped out to greet us with a large wok of freshly roasted rice, the newly puffed grains looking like cherry blossoms in miniature.

Delighted, we fell to munching the still sizzling rice as the couple’s precocious grandchildren played underfoot. Soon, other family members and neighbors stopped by, some helping with the roasting while others dropped armloads of firewood on the hut’s mud floor, squatted, and began to stoke the flames in the open fire pit. Cheerful banter flowed back and forth; there was good-natured ribbing, punctuated by laughter. The couple’s older son, responsible for the heavy lifting on the farm, joined us sometime later.

Then Thoeba and Choengyim invited us next door into their home, an ancient rammed-earth Bhutanese farmhouse with thick walls, heavy wooden beams, and new corrugated metal roofing (a recent change from the traditional slate and wood-shingle common to the region). There they proudly introduced us to a picture of their second son, a Buddhist monk, hanging in a frame beside the family altar. They proffered homemade khabzay, the mildly-sweet fried dough eaten during celebrations, followed by a simple meal of suja, or butter-tea, the newly roasted rice, and the fiery local rice-brew, ara, similar to the Japanese sake wine.

Soon, Thoeba and Choengyim made us feel like extended members of the family. They ate shyly, fed us more, and between mouthfuls of the roasted rice soaked in butter-tea, spoke with quiet pride about their children like parents everywhere. When Seth and Mariko finally asked them if they were happy, they looked at each other and nodded.

“What more do I need?” Thoeba said to Mariko, explaining. “The government takes care of us by providing agricultural subsidies [for seeds and farming equipment], free healthcare, and education [pointing to the grandchildren]. I work as long as I can. I stop when I need to. My fields provide for my family, and we rely on each other in times of difficulty. I pray if I have time left in the day, and if I’m tired, I cover my head and go to sleep.” Choengyim laughed, nodded her agreement, and said, “Yes, that is the way it is with us.”