Armed with that boon, the buffalo demon overran the earth and drove the gods out of heaven. One by one, they tried to stop him. One by one, they failed.

So the gods did the only thing left. They poured their power together, and from that blaze of light rose Durga. Shiva gave her his trident, Vishnu his discus, Indra his thunderbolt, and the Himalayas a lion to ride. Then she went to face the demon no one else could defeat.

Legend says they fought for nine nights. On the tenth day, she won.

In Karnataka, she is worshipped as Chamundeshwari, and the battle is said to have ended on the hill above Mysuru. The city still carries the demon’s name. And every Dasara, it carries her idol through its streets in a golden howdah, on the back of an elephant.

Oxidised jewellery isn’t polished to a mirror shine. It’s darkened on purpose, so every carved line and every edge stands out. It was never meant to look delicate, and neither was she.

That’s why it belongs to Navratri. For nine nights, we celebrate the strength no one saw coming: the swirl of chaniya cholis, the click of dandiya sticks, the dhol that won’t let anyone stand still, and garba circles that keep turning long past midnight.

Every woman in that circle carries a little of Durga in her. So dance like it. Spin a little longer, laugh a little louder, and take up all the room you want. These nine nights are hers, and they’re yours too.

Chamundi by Moonelle. Rise to every occasion.