I knew what came next. The frail old man operating the elevator, whom we all affectionately called “Baba”, asked us the question we had all been anticipating.

“Which devis are my little devis this year?” he produced a giggle. His crinkled eyes hidden underneath the wrinkles. A running joke that initiated the tradition.

                   

My options were Parvati, Lakshmi, Saraswati, Annapurna, Durga and Kali. I quickly screamed Kali- the Punisher, leaving the option unavailable for the others. After minutes of bickering, all of them were taken, leaving Annapurna- the provider of food.

“Preeti will have to be Annapurna, her punishment for being late.” I said in a crabby tone, taking my role as Kali seriously. It was almost 11:30 and my stomach had begun to churn producing noises audible enough for our old Baba.

This was the first time that Preeti was late, rather the first time any of us had been. I sensed something was wrong when I telephoned her earlier that day. Her mother answered and insisted that she won’t be joining us this afternoon or any other Navami here on and then abruptly ended the call. Preeti had been behaving strangely in the past few days. She was 4 years older than me- the same age as my brother, although that had never come in the way of our friendship. In fact, it was why we became best friends, because she never made me feel small unlike bhaiya and his friends. What was she hiding?

With a tight schedule to follow and starving tummies, we decided to begin without Preeti. The truth was that none of the girls wanted to visit her house, afraid that their parents might find out. She lived on the ground floor near the parking lot, in a 2-bedroom apartment with her parents and three brothers. My parents were always hesitant when I asked them for permission to visit hers for play dates- as a result she would often visit mine, our playdates involving things that we couldn’t at hers- flaunt our inner artists on MS Paint.

Upset that I hadn’t heard from her, I began to worry and refused to begin without her. Instead, I trudged in the direction of her house to check with her one last time. I told the others to cover for the delay on my behalf. I heard the elevator close and one of them say- “4th floor Baba Ji.”

I balanced my weight at the tip of my toes and kept the doorbell pressed until someone answered.

Her 16 year old brother, Chotu, opened the door and attempted to shut it once he saw me. I never liked him or the way he would tease me- besides Preeti would perpetually complain about the bully in him. I pushed my way in while he grinned at me, chewing his lunch like a cow. I saw his hands reach out for my cheek but before his fingers touched me I smacked them away and asked him about Preeti.

To my relief I noticed that no adults were present. She lay on a mattress in a corner of their room, crouched in a fetus like position- a hot water bag leaking beside her. And in that moment, I felt my anger dissolve. She seemed to be in excruciating pain as she clutched her tummy. Her back faced towards me and I realized that she hadn’t even noticed me come in. I could hear Chotu follow me inside the room and whisper into my ear-

“She’s grown up now and doesn’t want to participate in your childish games. Besides Maa says she's not even a kanya anymore, how can she pretend to be a devi?”

Kanya is a girl child- the symbol of pure creative force. The moment that the great feminine potential is at its peak. Only the; purest, most innocent, prepubescent, virgin non-dalit girl child, will have the privilege to be a Devi. Be worshipped by adults eat the food of festivities and receive gifts.

On the 8th and 9th day of Navratri, we worship the Kanya’s as representations of goddess Durga through the ritual of Kanya Puja. 

But what is believed to happen when the girl child obtains puberty and steps in to womanhood?