by Ellen Oh
“See the pujā setup, Jess—the big steel plates?” I pointed through the bodies on the court to direct her. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if someone ran into it during garbā because they were being too aggressive? And if it all clattered to the ground and covered everything in colored powder and rice? And if that’s all our gossipy-as-hell community talked about for the next month?”
“He’ll never hear the end of it.” Jess was slowly nodding her head.
“Exactly! And his mom will definitely not let him play raas. I bet he won’t be able to perform in the competition, because Kiran Auntie is in charge of it this year. She doesn’t mess around with kids who can’t hack it. Because it has to be better than when my mom was in charge last year.” Nirali’s grin was getting wider and wider as she counted out the potential results of our plan on her henna’d fingers.
“You guys are scary. And are you sure it’s not like . . . disrespectful?”
“Don’t worry Jess, it’s all in the spirit of Navrātri! Mā Durgā, of all goddesses, would understand.” I flung an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, let’s get some food while we plan.” The three of us headed back to the floor, weaving our way through the chaos like the unstoppable force that we knew we were.
Durgā looked at the gods before her, and felt the power of three inside her, building and amplifying her presence. She could see the thousands of beginnings and endings she had and would endure. She was ready for this story.
“Durgā Devi, we’ve given you our weapons and have called a lion from the Himalayas to bear you to battle. Do you go?”
She gripped the gods’ weapons in her many hands, pulled herself onto the back of the lion, and tangled her fingers into his mane. “I go.”
“Might I recommend the ras malāi or a basan ke ladoo?” We were in line for some delicious sweet treats, and I was playing good host for Jess. Vengeance was on the backburner while we waited for the perfect moment. Nirali leaned out to the side to see how many people were ahead of us.
“This line is long and I’m not really hungry. I think I’m going to go get some more dancing in before the plan.” She tapped the side of her nose and bared her teeth. Nirali was really owning the warrior role. “But, so you know, Jess, my vote’s for ras malāi.” She took one last look at the line of hungry desis ahead of us before scampering back to the dance. Jess leaned out to judge the line for herself. “Actually, I think I’m going to take this chance to use the restroom. If you get to the front before I get back, will you just fill a plate for me?”
“Duh.”
“Thank yoooou!” She sang out the last syllable as she headed off. I was left standing behind a group of kids I didn’t know, and not for the first time I bemoaned the fact that people still didn’t automatically sew pockets into the average lenghā so I’d have my phone to look at. Instead, I was stuck eavesdropping on the group in front of me.
“—so then Arjun told Pooja Auntie that he couldn’t be in the competition this year because he had to work at his dad’s shop, you know? And he had that big part at the end with Kinna? So, I guess Pooja Auntie told Dinesh’s mom—”
Well, this just got more interesting. I sidled forward a little. I bet this story was going to end with Dinesh stealing the spotlight. Jerk.
“And then Dinesh split shifts with him so Arjun could still come to practice enough to be in the show. Which is so necessary. The two of them are how my cousin’s team is gonna win for sure.”
I started, surprised. That’s not how I thought that was going to go.
“Back!”
I jumped again at Jess’s sudden reappearance.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay, we’re almost at the front, finally.” I gestured for her to get in front of me and tried to push what I’d heard out of my head. I didn’t even have all the facts. Dinesh probably only helped that kid, Arjun, out that so that he’d be on the winning team. Still sounded selfish to me. Mā Durgā’s ceramic face flashed in my mind. I held on to that image as I filled my plate.
Mahishāsur was sitting on Indra’s throne of pure gold. The skulls littering the stone at his feet shook as his minister ran into the room.
“Master! They cannot defeat her—she is too strong.” The gods had sent a woman to defeat him, the most powerful being in the universe. He laughed at the thought. A woman? Too strong for his army? She truly must be a fearsome thing to behold.
“How can my warriors be so weak as to be defeated by a woman? I will own this Devi. She will be my wife. Let us see her defeat me!”
“He helped one kid stay on his garbā team so that he and his team can win the competition . . . and?” Nirali had joined Jess and me on the floor in a corner of the gym while we ate our weight in desserts. I had just finished sharing what I’d overheard in line, and she was dismantling my guilt block by block. “Mahishāsur was nice to Mā Durgā for like five minutes during their battle, too. Remember? Crap people can do good things and still be crap.”
I paused, a piece of jalebi halfway to my mouth, and stared at her.
“I can’t believe you just compared Dinesh to a shape-shifting demon who literally created hell on earth.”
Nirali shrugged.
“Whatever. I still think we should do it. He is a Navrātri terror.” She looked past me at the dancers flying by to dhol beats. The toes peeking out from under her lenghā were tapping along.
“Aahw ooo hurr?” Jess attempted to ask around the dense ladoo in her mouth.
“Swallow your food, Jess.”
She made a comical effort to swallow and then downed half a glass of water. She grimaced.
“That was like eating a spoonful of peanut butter. Next year, remind me that I should stick to the delicious soft sweet cheese, please. I was saying ‘are you sure?’” She gestured toward the dance. “We could just have a good time and not take down any ridiculous boys for past evil deeds?”
Nirali focused a very intent stare on our favorite do-gooder.
“Jessica Zhang. He left me. In my underwear. And he hit some girl in the nose. And he was a butthead to Jaya. I need this. I need closure.”
Jess put a hand on Nirali’s shoulder. “Then that’s that. Uteruses before duderuses, as the T-shirt says.”
“Yes! You’re the best!” Nirali all but tackled Jess in a hug. “Okay, so we just have to get him between us in that fast circle and trip him into the pujā setup. That seems easy enough.”
Not going to lie: it felt a little bit like we were devi warriors planning for battle. Nirali’s feet were tapping faster, and I could feel the energy building in my core. Even Jess’s eyes had taken on a wild glint.
“I am the best but, like, I’m not going to do the actual plan. My dancing is nowhere near good enough. We all agree, right?” Jess tucked her hair behind her ears.
“No, Jaya and I can handle that.” As Nirali laughed, I caught Dinesh entering the gym floor from the foyer. He cut through the lines of dancers with purposeful disregard. I narrowed my eyes.
He was going down.
“Mahishāsura! I’ve defeated your fiercest rākshasas. Come and see if you can succeed where they have failed.”
Mahishāsur beheld Durgā in her finery: the blood of his demonic Asur marking her sari only made her seem more beautiful. He was not afraid, but intrigued.
“Devi, if you would join me, we could rule as husband and wife. You are magnificent. What better place for such a woman as you than beside me?” Before he’d even finished speaking, he felt the tip of an arrow graze his snout.
“I’ll see you dead, Mahishāsur. There is no balance in you.”
He growled at the audacity of the goddess. He pulled out his sword and leapt forward. “I’ll show you balance. Asur, let your arrows fly!”
The garbā had nearly reached its last crescendo. The beat was thumping as fast as it would get before the break to do Durgā’s prayer. Nirali was already starting a circle closest to the murti in the center of the room.
I broke through lines of dancers so I could join in behind her. I turned and jumped and bent low and then did it over and over again. Every time I passed by Dinesh, I could see him eyeing our dance moves, deciding whether our steps would be more fun than his.
Three more dancers joined our group. Then Dinesh jumped in ahead of Nirali. He still couldn’t resist showing off. But she matched his leaps and twists and turns, waiting for her chance.
The balls of my feet burned as I slapped them against the wood of the basketball court. Because we were in the inner circle, steps could only go so far. I was right on Nirali’s heels and she was on Dinesh’s. A well-timed jump would cause him to trip directly into the priest’s thalis, and everything would fall to the ground. And every person in the gym would see.
Sweat ran down the back of my neck.
The song would be over soon. Nirali had to act now if she didn’t want to miss her chance. I looked at Mā Durgā again to find my resolve. The statue stared back blankly. All those previous flashes of Durgā ji’s implicit validation now seemed ridiculous. This was a bad idea! Ahead, Nirali deliberately turned early and missed her next step. I reached out a hand to stop her.
Durgā lifted Sudarshana to her finger and let it spin. The jagged points on the outer rim could cut through anything. As long as it was her hand that threw it, Mahishāsur was finished. The battle had been going on for nine days and nights. He’d used different forms, different weapons, and she had overcome every obstacle.
His marriage proposal was laughable and his fighting was pure aggression with no thought given to tactics. He would destroy the universe with his hubris. She watched as he ran toward her with his gaping maw on display, teeth ready to tear into her throat, and she let Sudarshana fly.
Nirali’s foot slid right under Dinesh’s. I was too late. He twisted to the left and tripped into the pujā thali. Everything clattered to the ground, the steel plates hitting the boards of the court in an explosion of sound, and the floor became a mess of red and yellow and orange powder. Grains of rice scattered everywhere.
“Hey, if you don’t know the steps, maybe you should start in a slow circle!” Nirali’s voice rang out gleefully.
But if she was waiting for Dinesh to respond, she was going to be disappointed. Dinesh couldn’t respond because Dinesh couldn’t stop. He fell into the statue and rebounded right back into a girl’s shoulder as the final notes played. That girl fell into the person in front of her, who in turn hit their friend. It was a domino effect. And it all seemed to happen in slow motion.
I looked on in horror as Durgā’s statue wobbled back and forth, and tipped to the side.
Mahishāsur’s head was lying beneath her, and Durgā had a new name to add to an evergrowing list. Mahishāsur Mardini: “Killer of Mahishāsur.” She had saved them all.
“He Bhagwān!” An Auntie muttered behind me as she surveyed the scene. Mā Durgā’s murti was cradled in the arms of the priest, who was trying to hold on to the goddess and not slip in the mess at the same time. The priest held the statue so her face was toward us, and her eyes bored into mine. Dinesh was standing off to the side, surrounded by people giving him dirty looks, staring blankly around like he couldn’t quite understand how he’d gotten there. I let out a sigh. This wasn’t a demon, this was just a stupid guy.
“DINESH!”
A grimace flashed across his face at what could only be the sound of his mom’s voice.
“Before you say anything—it wasn’t my fau—” But a well-manicured, heavily jeweled hand went up to stop him from talking.
“I told you, nā, that you are too aggressive! Maine kahā thā, slow down?” Dinesh’s mom couldn’t have been more than five-foot-three, but in that way that all tiny Indian mothers can, she knew how to make herself gigantic when she was angry.
“It’s happening, Jaya, it’s happening.” Nirali stood next to me, rubbing her hands together. I gave her a weak grin.
I couldn’t look away. And I wasn’t the only one. The people around us were staring. And Jess was in the crowds at the bleachers craning to see what had happened. It was like a train wreck.
“Pandit-ji se māfi maango!”
The priest had placed Mā Durgā back on her pedestal and was dusting excess powder off her feet. I couldn’t even look at her face.
“Sorry, Pandit-ji.” Dinesh put his palms together and bowed his head. It seemed he could show humility. It was becoming less and less likely that we were the devi warriors in this story.
“Okay, betā, now jā, help clean up the floor before the pujā starts,” The priest was barely paying attention. He probably just wanted to get the pujā started. Dinesh’s mom pulled him away from the priest and started walking toward us. Probably because we were standing in the path to the closet where all the cleaning supplies were kept and hopefully not because they knew that we actually caused all this.
“No garbā competition this week, Dinesh—that’s it.” Dinesh’s mom was still yelling at him as they walked right by us.
“Mom! No! Someone tripped me and the team needs me. I can’t bail on them last minute—”
“Dinesh, you always say it’s not your fault, but you are always too forceful. Aur sab ne dekhā.” She emphasized that last part with a smack to Dinesh’s arm. It was clear that what she was really mad about was the fact that everyone had seen the embarrassing debacle. This exchange wasn’t giving me the feeling of righteous vindication I imagine Mā Durgā felt after her battle with Mahishāsur, that was for sure.
I couldn’t let this happen. I didn’t want his entire team to suffer because we were on a vigilante high.
“I don’t think this was what I wanted.” I mumbled the words, but Nirali heard me anyway. She looked at me and sighed.
“It’s possible we went overboard.” Nirali let out another deep breath before continuing. “I can’t believe that I’m starting to feel bad about this.”
I put an arm through hers. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” We ran to catch up to Dinesh and his mom. “Auntie!” They stopped short and turned back to see who would be so awkward as to interrupt an I-am-yelling-at-my-child moment.
“Hi, Auntie, I’m Nirali, Sonam Bhatt’s daughter, and this is Jaya Shah.”
Her eyes narrowed in irritation.
“Haan? What do you need?” Dinesh’s mom responded. Dinesh was avoiding looking at both of us.
“We saw what happened, Dinesh just tripped. It was a total accident, Auntie.” We’d reached the closet by then. Auntie reached a hand out to pull it open and found that it wouldn’t budge.
“See! I told you, Mom!”
“Chee, it’s locked.” His mom tsked and sucked air in through her teeth. “Dinesh, we will talk about this later.” She turned to us. “Bete, thank you for telling me what you saw. Acchā, I’m going to get the key to the cleaning closet and then, Dinesh, you’re going to fix everything up so Pandit-ji can do the pujā. I’ll be back ek minute mein.”
As soon as she walked away, Dinesh turned on us.
“You’re the one who tripped me!”
Nirali was not having any of that. She stamped her foot and shoved a finger into his shoulder. There was a manic energy bleeding from the number of people behind us who didn’t have enough to do, and it seemed to be fueling my friend.
“You stepped on my lenghā and everyone saw me in my underwear!” She drove her finger in a little bit harder with each word. She moved forward, forcing him backward. He stumbled and caught himself before responding.
“What are you talking about? You’re wearing your lenghā, weirdo!”
Nirali drilled her finger deeper.
“Not tonight, you dillweed. Five years ago!”
“When I was ten? That was you?” He glared at us. “Have you spent . . . five years planning this?”
I stepped back, surprised at how quickly he remembered.
“It was an accident!”
Oh no, he didn’t.
“Please. We did not spend five years planning
this! You were a dick to me tonight, too, remember? Maybe you should quit being such a garba gānd,” I shot back, throwing my hands up in the air.
“I am not a—” he started to defend himself, but Nirali cut him off.
“Nope. You don’t get to talk. Let’s go through your screwups.” Nirali had pulled her hand back and was counting again. “Starting with leaving me in my underwear. Tonight you hit some girl in the face and yelled at her like it was her fault you don’t know how to handle your own limbs!” Dinesh tried to interject again, but Nirali just kept going. “And then, you blamed my best friend because you weren’t watching your own dupattā?” With every point, a tiny wave of guilt flashed across Dinesh’s face. “You are a total gānd!”
“It doesn’t sound great when you put it all out there.” He rubbed the back of his head. What had started as an angry, defensive expression was melting into a thoughtful one.
I tried picturing him as the demon we’d all thought he was and found that I couldn’t anymore. “You should just apologize: you know it was a garbage way to act.”
“I’m . . . sorry. For yelling at you.” He turned to Nirali. “And I’m sorry for the, ah, underwear thing.”
“Thank you.” We thanked him in tandem, my voice decidedly less icy than Nirali’s.
“And . . .” He paused, waiting.
We stared at him blankly.
“And you’re also sorry for overdoing it on the revenge?” He dared a small grin that could be defined as rakish. He was cute, and it was annoying.
Nirali just groaned while I responded.
“Ha! No.”
“Dinesh!” His mother had returned, broom and paper towels in tow. “Challo, stop yeh flirting-wirting, let’s go!”
She pulled him away, protesting all the way. We watched them walk back to the center of the floor. Dinesh got onto his knees to wipe the floor clean, and slowly his friends joined in to help him. I looked at Mā Durgā in the center, and the statue finally looked pleased again.
“I can’t believe that just happened.” Nirali was shaking her head in disbelief.