Villagers thanked the gods who gifted them such precious bounties. They made offerings by burning corn in the fire, to thank gods for their benevolence. They danced in the temples to share their joys with the gods. For the gods were also happy gods, they liked music and dance and the colourful attire villagers put on the festive occasions. But that did not mean the gods gave only what the villagers desired. Sometimes they made the blizzards roar through the valley and trample the golden crops that were waiting to be harvested. At other times they sent rains that would loosen rocks from the mountains hurtling them down heartlessly.
It was one such night gods seemed to be in foul mood, and it had been raining. Lying in bed, I was hearing the pleasant pitter-patter of the rain drops rushing to meet the earth with a yearning that echoed in the ferocious wind and the lightening that lay seize to the little village. A primal rude fear hurled me to an unknown discomfiture generated by the sound of thunder and blinding crash of lightening. The dark clouds forebode hell's arrows and I shivered inside and outside. As we grow, we learn to fear but the reasons change over time. Our journey through the life is infested with fear at every turn every corner.