Maa Durga and the Modern Indian: The Goddess We Carry Within

As autumn sets in, Hooghly’s breeze carries a unique earthy blend of silt, desiccated straw and briny woodsmoke along with shiuli phool er gondho (night-jasmine’s fragrance). Through the fractured light of bamboo ribs, the morning of Mahalaya finds the calloused hands of Kumartuli artisans coaxing deities from the earth in the ceremonial hour. Being an artisan from Kumartuli is both, a matter of great prestige and a continuation of one’s legacy. More often than not, a contemporary artisan belongs to a line of artisans who have been taught and trained under the watchful eyes of their elders. People say that one can’t learn skills from their mother’s womb but in their case, it is a possibility.

There is an unexplainable beauty to Chokkhudaan (painting the eyes of the goddess). As the artisan dips his brush into black lacquer and applies a single curve to Maa’s central eye (Trinayana) first, she suddenly comes alive. Although all three of her eyes are unusually big and wide but to the onlooker, it almost feels like she is smiling at you. As though she is genuinely happy to see you. And that, is what makes Maa relevant to every person from every generation. While she stands in front of you with her ten arms (dashabhuja) wielding the deadliest weapons given to her by the mightiest of gods and a bleeding Mahishasura under her feet, she does not look enraged in the slightest. On the contrary, there is a miraculous quietude to her face. Despite accomplishing the gargantuan task of saving the Earth and the heaven (swarga), fighting battle after battle and establishing dharma (cosmic equilibrium) once again, she does not look threatening in the least.

For a generation navigating the fractured identity of modern India, Durga is anything but just another icon within the grammar of ritual. She comes to us, not only as the ideal woman or a perfect representation of Shakti (divine feminine) but as a reminder of every human being’s innate capability to rise when they must. She elevated herself so that when our time comes, we can too. But there is an even greater message she holds for mankind: you can be two completely contradictory things at the same time. She is a powerful warrior but not without being an affectionate daughter; she is invincible but also gentle; she is a destroyer but also a creator; she is a saviour but also a soul longing for love. We know divine equilibrium exists because Maa exists.

In a rapidly changing India, that contradiction feels strangely familiar. Her story feels a lot like our story. We live in a world that constantly tells us who we can and can’t be, what we can and can’t do and what is acceptable from everything that falls outside of that bracket. Human nature was created with a pinch of grey but this world convinces us otherwise. ‘Ifs’ and ‘buts’ are imposed on us as guidelines we never asked for, in the first place. You can be ambitious but not too ambitious otherwise, you’ll intimidate people and it’ll be perceived as arrogance. You can be independent but you should also have no qualms about bending down every time it is expected of you. You should aim to be successful but you aren’t allowed to pay the price success demands. You can be broken but you’re not allowed to become weak. You’re expected to be happy but not on your own terms. You’re “allowed” to make your own decisions but not without ensuring that an entire village approves of it. Durga refuses these binaries. She comes to remind us in person every year that if she could break the illusion, so can we.

The ten arms of Durga are no less of a metaphor for modern individuals-the ability to carry multiple responsibilities without losing one’s core identity. Who in today’s society, except for the outrageously privileged who have no reason to be concerned about the world or perhaps even themselves, isn’t juggling more than what they bargained for? Most contemporary women are educating themselves, upping their skills, focusing on their careers, earning their own money, taking care of parents and extended families, getting married, building families, raising children, navigating relationships and consciously living life every single day. If they’re lucky to have a little spare time on their hands, they’re also discovering who they are as people. Each of the aforementioned is nothing short of a full-time job because they require genuine commitment and yet, the modern woman does not hesitate. She becomes an embodiment of the goddess she bows to.

A conversation on the modern woman is incomplete without a discussion of the modern man. The contemporary man does not get to follow in the footsteps of his father and/or grandfather blindly. What was once considered ‘progressive’ is seen as the bare minimum today. Like women, men too, are increasingly negotiating identities that previous generations were rarely encouraged to: provider, caregiver, an ambitious professional, an emotionally available partner, strong yet vulnerable, masculine but not devoid of sentiments. A ‘real’ man is someone who truly comprehends what it means to be a woman; someone who protects her but also lets her be, who supports her too instead of simply expecting it, someone who has gone beyond expecting a trophy-wife. A modern man has moved aside to give space to the modern woman; a modern woman has let go of the generational abuse of power and is happy to harmoniously coexist. Being a lot of things all at once is not an attribute restricted to women alone. For modern women and men, this multiplicity is an inheritance fraught with silent demands; the biggest one being: making the impossible look effortless.

There is another aspect of Durga's story that feels particularly relevant to contemporary India: she is not created through the defeat of masculine power. In the Devi Mahatmya, when Mahishasura threatens cosmic order, the gods combine their energies to manifest Durga. Her weapons come from different divine powers- Shiva's trident (trishool), Vishnu's discus (sudarshan chakra), Varuna’s thunderbolt (vajra) etc. That symbolism is precious. It portrays to us that the answer to a crisis is not always a tug-of-war of power; it is different forms of power recognising one another and working together. It is one of the best examples of good defeating the bad.

This offers a compelling way of thinking about modern relationships. An empowered woman does not need an insecure man by her side and an emotionally expressive man does not need a woman who feels threatened by his vulnerability. A successful partner does not have to diminish the other partner's success. The healthiest modern relationships must take inspiration from myths and legends that emerge from within our own culture and define it. It proves to us that we don’t need to look to the West everytime we need an answer or an opinion.

Durga's story is, therefore, not a story of women versus men. It is a story of balance.

Then there is the figure beneath her feet. As children, Mahishasura was simply the green-skinned half-human, half-buffalo monster of the pandal carved from plaster who was the uncontested villain in the story. However, as adults, we recognize him in quieter, more insidious guises. He lives in the entitlement of the powerful; he is a manifestation of the institutional prejudice that hides behind convention; he is also the coward who looks away instead of fighting for what’s right and it is he who is one’s inner vanity that refuses to admit they were wrong.

With all of this said, I have a question: how long can we keep worshipping Shakti in full celebrations while walking past real women who are forced to negotiate their dignity and safety? We drape the goddess in gold and chant Ya Devi Sarvabhuteshu (from Chondipaath, which reveres the divine mother in the form of consciousness within all beings), yet urge our daughters to keep quiet and accommodate things that should never be tolerated? If we fail to learn the lessons of equal respect and honest partnerships regardless of the time and place then, what is the point behind revering Maa? If we can’t be reminded of what’s truly valuable to us as human beings from Maa Durga then our devotion is nothing more than a mere spectacle. Durga Pujo is more than a festival; it is a call for all of us to wake up from our slumbers and look at society with new eyes. In Maa’s shadow, we are all granted an overdue absolution. We are reminded that ambition is not an act of selfishness, boundaries are not cruelty and softness is never a surrender of power.