India, Oct. 9 -- I was waiting to meet a school principal when the coordinator suggested I sit through the morning assembly. The topic for the day was the upcoming festivities of Navratri. I smiled to myself, expecting the routine-nine days, nine goddesses, familiar mythologies, and generic tributes to womanhood. Then, a little girl walked onto the stage. Shailputri, she said, is the woman who knows her roots but refuses to let them become her boundaries. She honours where she comes from while having the courage to choose where she is going. Brahmacharini is perseverance personified-the woman who keeps walking when the road is long and applause is absent. She is the student chasing a dream, the woman returning to work, the mother studying late at night, the one who quietly refuses to give up. Chandraghanta is the woman who finds her voice. She speaks when silence would be easier. She questions, protests, confronts, and stands beside another woman when she is being wronged. Kushmanda is the creator. She turns an empty space into a home, an idea into a livelihood, a difficulty into an opportunity. She creates not merely things, but possibilities. Skandamata is motherhood beyond biology. She nurtures another's potential-the teacher who sees promise in a struggling child, the sister who steadies another, the mother who teaches her daughter that the sky is not the limit. Katyayani is fierce and uncompromising. She knows being kind does not mean being compliant. She demands respect, sets boundaries, and walks away when staying costs her dignity. Kalaratri, the child noted, brings a vital truth: "Kali does not live only in temples. She lives among women who refuse to shrink-who burn, rebuild, and rise unapologetically." Mahagauri is the woman who discovers that grace is not the absence of scars, but the ability to heal without becoming hard. She survives, forgives herself, and begins again. Siddhidatri is the woman who finds her strength and lends it to others-the mentor, leader, grandmother, or friend whose wisdom becomes someone else's courage. The assembly ended, the principal arrived, and my meeting concluded. But I carried that young speaker's words with me long after. She had reframed the nine devis entirely. For centuries, we have placed goddesses on pedestals while confining women to boxes-expecting them to be strong yet non-threatening, ambitious yet submissive, and constantly available to others. Perhaps that is the true lesson of Navratri. The nine devis are not distant idols worshipped for a week and a half, but reminders of what women embody daily: Rootedness, creativity, fierceness, healing, and strength. The Goddess was never far away. She has been walking among us all along....