The Afternoon That Belongs Only to Women
Vijaya Dashami arrives and the pandal, which spent four days as the loudest place in the neighbourhood, goes quiet in a particular way. The dhak still beats. The conch still blows. But in the hour before immersion, something contracts around the idol, a circle of women in white-bordered red sarees, each holding a fistful of sindoor, each moving toward Durga's face with an intention that is not entirely joyful.
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