A federation of States presumes a difference in the States. And it strikes one - forcibly - in the past year of travels in the north-eastern States of our Union how stark those differences are. Geography and topography, naturally, but the real differences are in the people. The peoples in this region are a conglomeration of folk migrating from Tibet to Thailand, and from our heartlands. The roads and tracks, dusty and rutted.
Every district has its dozen minorities, religions, languages and scripts. And the minorities may be sons (or often so important here, daughters) of the soil or imports, formerly indentured virtual slaves, migrants and more. How often, too, are the migrants biological, spreading across land and water.
Subsistence farmers, mostly, having to grow cash crop as a price to admission into a wider polity.
The greatest of pressures falls, naturally, on the environment - and the rapidly diminishing wildlife.
If you can, see it, before it is killed by us, as it will be.