Durga Of My Dreams

This Navratri !
I will make my own durga
Outlining her connection
with the real blemished world
though having her own amount of flaws
Stuck in the strands of hay
Not so tightly tied by those ropes
Securing her enough to not lay out on the land
also unleashing her a bit to let fall and stand

Shaped by the clay,
Moulded In Her own paragon
Crafted by her own faults
Detailing every sign of that
Brushing those alive
in her cracks of ardour
Making it easier for the sun to enter
Dried at each corner
Then, painted in the color of
its own preferred vibe

Oh ! Don't worry
She would be just fine,
Fierce as her name sounds
Diversed as her components speak
Equally,
not to be labelled on her
lures and curves
Or prejudiced on the
tone of her skin
Decorated in such a way
widening no depiction
Of her feminine recognition
Passive aggressive to the idea
Of being chanted
For the nine straight days
While for the rest of the year
Just a privilege to be used
By the cryptic-careless
mouths of patriarchy
In several tricky ways
to provide us handful of
pities and remorses
cold shoulders and speeches
Using self-defence
rhetorical lines "Shame on those men
We are the country of
Durga and Devis
We have been worshipping them
How can we not
respect the ladies.." After each single terror ,
this is so evasively rehearsed
Terribly losing its meaning
Making it more absurd

Hence this Navratri !
I will make a Durga of my own
Not to be worshipped,
as a God or a Woman.
But as a power to be symbolised
As a victory to be celebrated.
As a soul to be incorporated.
As a human to be coexisted.

How will you, patriarchy,
then find a loophole
to escape the debate
to save your face
And wash your dirty hands ?