I've flown to Bihar a few times in the last few months, following up on the aftermath of the 2007 floods, but this time it was different. Peering over the top of the latest government update, smudged from being hastily wrenched from the printer, I noted two other individuals who looked suspiciously like aid workers - you can tell by their dress sense!

Given the overwhelming and unexpected influx of media coverage and agency reports on the most recent flooding to plague Bihar, it was an easy assumption to make. It's not often that a river changes its course by 100 km (60 miles), paying no heed to the countless communities in its path as it returned inexorably towards its original route of 350 years ago. Moreover, as one of India's poorest and most troubled states, Bihar rarely receives such exposure or elicits such national and international concern.

Having declared the situation to be India's worst natural disaster since the tsunami, I knew that being part of Save the Children India's rapid response team was not going to be professionally, mentally, or physically easy.

One day of briefing at the Patna state office and meeting the other five team members was swiftly followed by a 12-hour car journey to Araria district on the Nepal border. Araria itself is "less" affected, but since it borders on Supaul district, which was submerged by the newly routed river, it's now hosting a large portion of the displaced population.

We started with a brief needs assessment of two government relief camps in Batnaha and Phulkaha. These camps were both worse and better than I expected, but in any light they reflected the extent and gravity of the humanitarian emergency.

People are living in 4 foot high (1.2 metre) shelters, crudely constructed from bamboo and rope. The luckier families have a tarpaulin to protect them from the repeated rainfall and incessant sun, whilst those less fortunate are using any materials at hand - saris, canvas sacking, plastic bags.

Based on our provisional assessment and what we thought we could do, we decided to launch a cooked food distribution immediately in Phulkaha Camp.

Naively I thought that "cooked food distribution" meant buying the food, transporting it, cooking it, and distributing it. Simple as that. After all, it's just catering.

It swiftly transpired how wrong I was, as we negotiated suppliers for vast quantities of ingredients, cooks with vast cooking pots and ladles, volunteers with yet vaster patience and energy, and vehicles large enough to transport the goods but small enough to negotiate the small roads lined with tents and displaced cattle.

Then there's the decision of how long it takes to cook, and how much to cook, which pales in comparison with the decision of how to manage quite so many people in the midday sun.

For some aid workers, this is routine, and simple compared to the intricacies of providing for people's health, hygiene and security, yet for myself, I was genuinely fearful of a mass hungry riot as we burnt the rice.

Yet it happened, and it happened again on the following day, and it is still happening - cooked, nutritious and tasty food for 1,200 families. It isn't enough, but it is a start.

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