When autumn drapes the firmament in gold,
And ancient legends stir, majestic, bold,
Nine nights resound with primordial might,
As Shakti ascends in resplendent light.
Through sanctums veiled in incense-laden air,
The feminine divine unveils her sovereign glare;
An archetype of valour, fierce and sublime,
Transcending the boundaries of space and time.
Her many manifestations, august and grand,
Command the tempest, the cosmos, the land;
In her, reside both tenderness and flame,
A formidable force no darkness can tame.
Then dawns Dussehra, history’s dramatic stage,
Where righteousness confronts depravity’s rage;
Ten heads of arrogance, ambition, and pride,
Conceal the moral void that festers inside.
The effigy ascends in a conflagration bright,
Its vanquished grandeur dissolving into night;
The roaring pyre, a metaphor profound,
For hubris that collapses without a sound.
Yet evil wears no singular, monstrous face;
It thrives in duplicity, in avarice, in disgrace.
In vainglorious minds and consciences asleep,
In promises hollow and convictions cheap.
Thus Navratri exalts the indomitable feminine,
While Dussehra exposes the fall of the tyrannical;
One celebrates Shakti in her resplendent array,
The other consigns unchecked arrogance to decay.

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