For ten vivid days, the air thrums with a fervour unlike any other. One witnesses countless men….. fathers, brothers, sons, husbands….. fold their hands, bow their heads in profound obeisance before towering, resplendent idols. Durga Puja unfolds in a spectacle of devotion, a vibrant celebration pulsating with energy, artistry, and a powerful symbolic narrative: the exaltation of feminine power, courage, and victory. The goddess Durga, depicted astride her lion, weapons ablaze, embodies an undeniable ideal of Shakti, revered and honoured with immense public piety.

Yet, within this very spectacle, amidst the sensory overload of dhak beats and fragrant incense, lies a mind-numbing, chilling paradox. It is a dissonance so profound it threatens to hollow out the very meaning of the celebration for any observer of our society. While millions perform elaborate rituals venerating the idea of invincible womanhood, the lived reality for countless women in that same society tells a horrifically different story….. a story that brutally mocks the grandeur on display.

The grim litany is tragically familiar, a stain on our collective conscience: The shattering violence of rape. The cold cruelty of murder, often cloaked in ‘honour’ or greed. The abhorrent practice of dowry killings, turning marriage into a death sentence. The pervasive dread of sexual harassment, a constant shadow in streets and workplaces. The deep-rooted injustice of gender discrimination, limiting lives from cradle to grave. And the silent genocide i.e. female foeticide, erasing potential daughters before breath is drawn. These are not mere crimes; they are fundamental assaults on the fabric of civilization itself. Each act is a direct negation, a vicious invalidation, of the grandiose piety performed before the goddess’s idol.

This is the devastating contradiction: A society engages in a massive, frenzied public performance venerating an icon of feminine strength for ten days, yet for the remaining 355 days and perhaps on Durgashtami too, perpetuates and tolerates a reality where that same strength, that very humanity, is systematically violated, suppressed, and extinguished in the flesh….. and….. blood of women who walk its streets and inhabit its homes. The hands folded so earnestly in reverence during the Puja are, too often, the very hands that inflict pain, or the hands that remain passively clenched while others inflict it, shielded by indifference or complicity.

A crime against a woman is a crime against civilization. It shreds the social contract, exposes proclaimed values as hollow, and reveals the celebration of “Shakti” as, far too often, mere pageantry. How can the fervent adoration of a symbol of protection resonate meaningfully when the women that symbol is meant to represent live under constant threat? How can the victory of good over evil be celebrated in the pandals while evil triumphs daily in alleyways, homes, and hospital wards through violence and discrimination?

Durga Puja, in all its magnificent fervour, holds up a mirror. It reflects a powerful cultural narrative about respecting womanhood. But the reflection is tragically fractured. The true measure of a society isn’t found solely in its festivals, but in the safety, dignity, and equality afforded to its women every single day. The challenge laid bare by this paradox is stark: until the reverence shown to the goddess translates into unwavering respect, protection, and justice for all women, the ten….. day spectacle remains just that….. a brilliant, heartbreaking display of profound societal hypocrisy. True reverence wouldn’t be confined to the pandal; it would be etched into the fabric of daily life.