The Goddess of the Himavan - Chapter Six

Harinder shook like a leaf by the time he left the palace grounds. He had taken a quick look at the King before he left.

The King looked austere, and Harinder knew that he expected him to abide strictly to his proposition, that is to prove his faithfulness and loyalty to the King of Hintrupate before he could become a subject.

The guards told Harinder that they would escort him to his quarters to get his things immediately and take him to the land earmarked for him to prosper.

Harinder hurried to his quarters with the guards following closely behind.

He didn't have many belongings, and in no time, left with the guards to the land the King had spoken to him about.

They passed the gardens and marched into a deserted area. It was a far-off place as it took them a long time to get there.

There were no signs of life along the way. Not even the wild grass grew in the vicinity.

Harinder wondered at that. "Where is this place that I am being taken to?" he questioned quietly. "It is a desert above all deserts as there do not seem to be any signs of life here. Where are the plants, or the creatures that abide on these grounds? The King has surely given me an impossible task to fulfill."

The guards walking on both sides looked grim, so Harinder dared not ask them where they were heading or how long it would take before they reached the place.

They walked for more than an hour before they came upon a big patch of barren land and a poorly looking house stood in the middle of it.

"This is it," the guards announced. "We wish you the best. The Royal Princess Marianetta would be coming by in a surprise visit to see your progress. So be alert and do what you promised diligently."

Harinder promised to do his best. When the guards left, he sat down on the hard ground and cried. The vast land did not seem like it could be cultivated in three months, however, when he held some grains of soil in his hands, they did have a little moisture in them. That gave him some hope. There was much to do to prosper the land.

He had some eggplant seeds in his rucksack. He had taken them home from the gardens and kept them safely in his bag, not knowing that they would come in handy as they did now.

Was there a well nearby so he could water the planted seeds?

The skies turned once again. It was nearing dusk. Harinder walked to his shack, and when he entered the door, he saw that it was clean and tidy inside. There was a rattan bed in a corner and a blanket. And, lo and behold, he saw through a tiny window by the bed, an old wheel cart beside a well out at the back.

Harinder was ecstatic. He ran outside.

There was a pail near the well. Harinder drew some water from it, and it was cold as ice. He thought about the Himavan. There they stood, far in the distance, a majestic presence to the land of the barren.

The snow-capped Himavan, even at dusk glowed and shimmered. What majesty they commanded from there, Harinder thought. Suddenly, he missed being among its throes. He would sit in the quiet of those mountains and reflect on their pristine beauty. Every time he gazed up at the skies, it was almost as if they aligned with the peaks in silent concurrence.

The skies often turned in colors that never once shadowed the peaks. Instead, they complimented each other through their seasons.

The stars of the night come out on some days to adorn those majestic mountains in a splendorous formation of dazzling lights. Glittering above the peaks and creating a perfected, picturesque jeweled adornment, like a crown placed above the mounts, the night would always awe Harinder to encapsulation. The crowned mountains were given the name, The Goddess of the Himavan. For surely, its beauty befitted that of a crowned goddess.

He missed the mountains and suddenly thought about his family and their untimely deaths.

As tears flowed, Harinder thought of what a monumental task he had ahead of him. He was afraid that he might fail in accomplishing the King's wishes.

What might happen then if he is banished from the Kingdom? Harinder couldn't face leaving the place in disgrace. He was a proud man and true to his word.

He walked back into the shack. A shack that if he succeeded, he could turn into a habitable dwelling. He hoped to stay in the wilderness forever.

There was much to do in the morning. Harinder took out the seeds from his bag, looked at them cradled in his palms, then placing them back carefully in his rucksack, he went off to sleep. He had wanted to plant them outside his quarters at some point in time. However, it wasn't to be so. "You will find a new bearing now, a land much larger for you to grow and thrive. I shall multiply your seeds and prove to the King that I am a trustworthy and capable man.

Harinder had a dream on his first night at the shack. It was a dream about a nightingale and a flautist. The flautist on a walk in the wilderness saw a nightingale perched atop a branch. He called out to the bird, "O' nightingale, why do you not sing tonight, the night is young, and the moon doth sprinkle upon the grounds its sacred light? The nightingale looked this way and that, and said in return, "Though the moon doth sprinkle its light upon the ground, there seem to be no streams of rhythm nor a lyrical tune that comes to mind matching the moon and its splendorous revealing. The moon beguiles me as it does you, my friend."

The flautist thought for a while. He sat himself down under the tree and saw the moonlight fall a little on his form. The rays warmed him.

The nightingale watched him like a hawk. The flautist took out his flute, and looking up at the nightingale, he said, "I shall play a tune to match the moonshine for you. You can sing along if you want."

The soothing sounds of the flute reached the far corners of the land. The nightingale became a shadow for it couldn't match the melodious composition of the song on the flute, a love song that awoke the night from its slumber.

"To whom does he perform the beauteous rendition of a love song. I have never heard sounds of such flamboyance?" the nightingale questioned in its tiny heart. "For his performance is known or seen by none, but me. Does he not know that he has the flair of a songbird and the gift of a pied piper? He has woken the night from its slumber."

When the flautist stopped, the nightingale flew down to where he sat.

"Surely a magician with a flute, are you! Your song has been heard far and wide, for all who kept the night for sleeping have now been woken to a soulful remedy. For tonight the Goddess of the Himavan has been woken from sleep, and she waits impatiently to hear you play once again. Would you come by again when the moon doth sprinkle dust on these grounds to play as you did tonight?"

The flautist smiled, knowing that he passed this way but once, and never did he retrace his steps upon the grounds that he had walked before.

He got up, and without an answer to the nightingale, sprinkled some stardust upon the barren land, and wished upon it much life and vigor. The Goddess of the Himavan and he had made a pact. For upon the land that he blesses, creation would multiply and thrive.