Nine Days of Goddess Worship, 367 Days of Double Standards

Navratri, Women’s Safety, and India’s Premium Subscription to Hypocrisy

By Ayushi Sharma | A satirical take on devotion, social conditioning, and the irony of women’s safety in India.

Navratri is here!

The country is ready for nine days of devotion. Temples will be crowded, homes will be decorated, WhatsApp statuses will scream “Jai Mata Di,” Instagram will be flooded with reels celebrating feminine power, and everyone will suddenly remember that women are supposed to be respected.

There will be fasting, prayers, garba nights, and Kanya Pujan. Little girls will be welcomed into homes, their feet washed, and their blessings sought with folded hands.

Beautiful, isn't it?

But here is a tiny question that might disturb the festive mood:

If we worship the girl child as a goddess today, what happens when she grows up and starts asking for freedom, equality, and safety?

Does she remain a goddess, or does she suddenly become a girl who needs to be controlled?

Welcome to India, where a woman can be worshipped as a goddess in the morning and questioned about her clothes by evening.

1. Goddess in the Temple, Suspect on the Street

In India, women are celebrated as Durga, Lakshmi, and Saraswati. We call them symbols of strength, prosperity, and knowledge.

But in real life?

A girl comes home late, and the interrogation begins.

“Where were you?”

“Who were you with?”

“Why were you out so late?”

She wears something different, and suddenly, the entire nation has become a fashion critic.

She speaks up, and she is told to be more adjusting.

She chooses her own career, partner, or lifestyle, and suddenly, everyone becomes an expert in family values.

Apparently, being a goddess is acceptable as long as you don't behave like an independent human being.

We love the idea of feminine power. We just prefer it when that power comes with permission from society.

Durga with ten arms? Absolutely inspiring.

A woman with one independent opinion? Now that is getting out of hand.

2. Nine Days of Shakti, 365 Days of Safety Concerns

During Navratri, we admire Goddess Durga holding weapons and fighting evil.

Meanwhile, an ordinary woman stepping out after dark may have to check her phone battery, share her live location, verify her cab details, keep emergency contacts ready, and remain alert to her surroundings.

She has her own little survival checklist:

• Share your location with someone you trust.

• Keep your phone charged.

• Avoid isolated routes when possible.

• Stay alert around strangers.

• Inform someone when you reach home.

• And, above all, remember that someone else's wrongdoing is not your fault.

Sometimes I wonder: if Goddess Durga took an evening cab in an Indian city, would someone ask her to share her live location, too?

Or would someone advise her to keep all ten hands visible so that nobody feels intimidated?

Jokes aside, the reality is deeply troubling.

Women are repeatedly told to become stronger, more alert, more careful, and more prepared.

But how much preparation should one need simply to live an ordinary life?

Self-defence is valuable, but preventing violence and holding perpetrators accountable are not optional responsibilities.

Women should have the freedom to travel safely without being expected to function as their own security agencies.

Safety is not a personal project that every woman must manage alone. It is a shared social and institutional responsibility.

3. The Crime Gets Forgotten, but the Woman's Clothes Become Breaking News

Whenever a woman experiences harassment or violence, some people immediately become investigators.

Not of the crime, of course.

They investigate her clothes, her choices, her friendships, her timing, and her character.

Where was she?

Why was she there?

What was she wearing?

Why did she trust that person?

Apparently, society has an endless supply of questions for the victim and a remarkably limited supply of questions for the perpetrator.

We have somehow turned women's freedom into evidence and their behaviour into a public trial.

Let us make one thing clear.

Clothing is not consent.

Friendship is not consent.

Marriage is not permanent consent.

Being outside at night is not an invitation to harassment or violence.

No woman's lifestyle gives another person the right to violate her dignity, boundaries, or safety.

If our definition of morality places the entire burden on women, perhaps it is time to question that definition rather than the women living under it.

4. Kanya Pujan: Respect Beyond the Ritual

There is nothing wrong with worshipping, fasting, or following traditions that hold meaning for us.

Kanya Pujan can be a beautiful expression of faith.

But what if the respect shown to a little girl during Navratri continued throughout the year?

What if she could go to school without fear?

What if she could travel, study, work, and make decisions without constantly calculating the risks?

What if her complaints were taken seriously?

What if families taught boys about consent, empathy, and accountability just as seriously as they taught girls about caution?

What if a woman reporting harassment did not have to defend her character before anyone listened to her?

Imagine a society where a girl's dignity did not depend on her age, clothes, marital status, or relationship with a man.

That would be a meaningful cultural achievement.

The problem is not that we worship goddesses. The problem is when our behaviour contradicts the values we claim to worship.

Offering food to a little girl is a ritual. Protecting her dignity, respecting her choices, and ensuring her safety are responsibilities that continue long after the ritual ends.

Perhaps the real test of devotion begins when we leave the temple.

5. India Needs Accountability More Than Another Inspirational Poster

Every Navratri, social media fills with messages celebrating Nari Shakti—women's power.

And then the festival ends.

The hashtags disappear, the decorations come down, and society returns to its usual programming.

Women continue to navigate unsafe public spaces, unequal expectations, harassment, and the pressure to remain silent to protect family honour.

Of course, one festival cannot solve every social problem. Nor should we dismiss the faith and joy that Navratri brings to millions of people.

But shouldn't a festival celebrating the triumph of good over evil inspire us to confront the injustices around us?

We need safer public transport, well-lit streets, effective reporting systems, sensitive handling of complaints, timely investigations, and accountability for perpetrators.

We need schools that teach consent and equality.

We need workplaces that take harassment seriously.

We need families that do not impose one set of rules on daughters and another on sons.

And we need a society that understands the difference between protecting a woman and controlling her.

Teaching women to stay safe is useful. Teaching society not to threaten their safety is essential.

A woman's freedom should not be treated as a favour granted by her family, partner, or community.

It is part of her dignity as a human being.

6. This Navratri, Let Us Try Something Beyond the Aarti

This year, while praying to Goddess Durga, perhaps we can ask ourselves a few uncomfortable questions.

Do we judge women for choices we would never question in men?

Do we silence daughters in the name of family honour?

Do we laugh at sexist jokes because challenging them feels inconvenient?

Do we dismiss harassment when it happens to someone we do not know?

Do we teach children to become good human beings, or merely successful people?

And when a woman speaks about injustice, do we listen—or do we first decide whether she is the kind of woman who deserves to be believed?

Social change cannot happen through a single Instagram post or a nine-day celebration. It requires consistent effort from families, institutions, communities, and the justice system.

But everyday choices matter, too.

Challenge victim-blaming.

Respect boundaries.

Speak up against harassment.

Teach boys responsibility, not entitlement.

Support women who report wrongdoing.

And stop confusing a woman's obedience with her goodness.

The Final Irony

India worships a goddess who defeats evil, yet women who speak against injustice are sometimes advised to remain silent.

We celebrate Shakti, yet an independent woman can make society uncomfortable.

We touch a little girl's feet during Kanya Pujan, yet as she grows older, we may begin placing restrictions on her freedom.

And then, with complete confidence, we announce:

“Our culture has always respected women.”

Perhaps our culture has beautiful ideals. Perhaps our traditions contain profound lessons about courage, strength, and justice.

But ideals mean little if they remain confined to temples, festivals, and social media captions.

This Navratri, my prayer is simple:

May the hands that offer flowers to the Goddess never be used to intimidate, silence, or control a woman.

May the voices that chant “Jai Mata Di” also speak up when a woman is mistreated.

May the families that celebrate their daughters' achievements also respect their decisions.

And may we stop expecting women to become goddesses before we treat them with dignity.

Because the real celebration of Nari Shakti is not merely worshipping women as divine beings. It is allowing them to live as ordinary human beings—with freedom, equality, safety, and respect.

Celebrate nine days of devotion.

Practise 365 days of humanity.

And if this blog makes you a little uncomfortable, do not worry. Perhaps this Navratri, along with the prasad, Maa Durga has sent us a little self-reflection.

Jai Mata Di. Jai Nari Shakti. And may the day come when women's safety is not a festive slogan, but an everyday reality.

— Ayushi Sharma
Blogger | Educator | Observer of Society's Ironies