The Goddess of the Himavan - Chapter Eight
After the princess's visit, Harinder was more determined than ever to make sure that his plot of land flourished, and his crops grew to be of the finest.
Harinder wanted to impress the royal household with his competence as a farmer. He was sure that once he had proven himself, the King would be pleased and let him own the land, just as he had promised.
He wanted to be the master of his destiny and is remembered for his dexterity and determination in turning barren land into thriving cultivation.
It was nearing the end of three months, and Harinder saw that his hard work had paid off handsomely. The crops had matured healthily and were bearing fruits now.
Then came an earth-shattering moment for Harinder. A few days before the day Harinder was to present himself to the King, a thunderstorm struck.
It was midnight when the winds lashed out a warning, howling as they beat upon the wooden shack and waking Harinder up with a start. Harinder could feel the shack move as if it was built on hinges.
He sat up in alarm and thought about his crops. He knew that soon a thunderstorm would follow when he saw flashes of lightning outside through his window. He could hear the skies rumbling from afar, and as it got closer, Harinder prayed that the oncoming thunderstorm wouldn't destroy his crops.
Harinder listened to the rumbling and thought about how the skies did sound like it was raging with anger and consumed with unshed tears. Tears that had been accumulated over the past seasons waiting to be unleashed in a torrent of unrestrained release.
But, why now? Just when he had toiled hard on the land and had achieved what he had set out to do. His attempts at proving himself with the successful venture would go to naught if the thunderstorm wreaked havoc on his crops.
Harinder walked a little unsteadily to the window. The wind was howling, and it was too dark for him to see the thunderous skies.
He went out of the shack, hugging himself when the cold wind hit him as he stood outside.
The crops were moving with the wind. He could only see an outline as they moved. The darkness of the night hovered above like a cloak.
Harinder looked up and whispered, "Don't let the crops be destroyed by your untamed anger, for I have toiled hard upon these soils. My hands have seen the glory of the Lord. The crops have grown and produced as I have intended. I only have a couple of days to present my hard labor which I have turned into a triumph for the King, who waits to see if he can accept me as one of his subjects. I do wish to live in this great kingdom, The Kingdom of Hintrupate, where the Himavans grace its borders, and the people live harmonious lives."
A little anxious and melancholic, Harinder walked back into the shack. Saddened by the untimely thunderstorm that is set to destroy the land he prospered.
He sat on the bed, and the rain fell in a torrent heavy downpour. The rooftop sounded like a million bolts of lightning had struck it, and the noise was magnified by the zinc sheets upon which the rain thundered.
Harinder started crying. At first softly, then he cried aloud, unable to cope with the sudden fear that overcame him.
He lay on the bed cradling himself tight. He had worked hard all his life. All he wanted was some respite and acceptance for his diligence in all that he had done. He had looked after his family before they perished. Sometimes in the coldest of the winters, he would go hunting in the wilds. Never once thinking of his safety, and only putting their needs before his. The mountain was a hard place to live. Not many survived the harsh weather conditions, but it was the only life he knew.