By Anu Prabhala, Maryland

On the feminine divine, life’s transitions, and the strength we carry within

It was Navarathri, the nine-day Hindu festival celebrating Devi (Divine Mother or the feminine divine), and for the first time in years, I decided to light a lamp before the Devi’s altar in our home.

I usually light my lamp at the altar in the same room. But this year, something drew me toward our beautiful three-panel Tanjavur painting (see above), which has adorned our wall for ten years. Specially commissioned for us and shipped from Bengaluru, India, the painting shows Lakshmi, the goddess of spiritual wealth, on the left, and Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge, on the right.

As I lit the lamp, hoping the flame wouldn’t make the dainty bells dangling above it too hot, I found myself looking into their faces.

And something quite unexpected happened.

I felt compassion. Not so much for them as from them. Their gentle smiles and serene eyes seemed to hold a knowing understanding, almost as though they were saying, I know. I am here.

I had looked at these paintings countless times before. Why was I seeing them differently now?

Perhaps it had something to do with the transitions unfolding in my own life: an uncertain professional future; a book I had dreamed of writing for years finally taking shape; a son edging ever so close to the day when he would leave home and begin his own adventures; and my 88-year-old mother in India, with whom I’ve spent many wonderful years (and still yearn to spend much more time with).

So much to be grateful for, and yet so much to take in, anticipate, and occasionally worry about.

And here were these two women—goddesses, no less—looking back at me with expressions of such extraordinary tenderness.

I am hardly a scholar of Sanatana Dharma (a.k.a. Hinduism), and my knowledge of the many forms of the divine mother is limited. But at that moment, I wasn’t thinking about scriptures, symbolism, or theology.

I was thinking about the feminine divine. About the extraordinary capacity of women to absorb life’s uncertainties, to nurture, to persevere, to find strength when strength seems in short supply.

And about how comforting it was, for once, to feel that someone else was looking after me!

Women in the Seats of Power

In South India, during Navarathri, we worship three manifestations of the feminine divine: Durga, for her strength and courage; Lakshmi, for the material and spiritual wealth she represents; and Saraswati, for knowledge, wisdom, speech, and music.

How wonderful, I thought, to have women in the seats of power! Not political power, but something far more fundamental—the very source of strength, abundance, and knowledge.

And really, who’d be better than a woman to untangle a messy situation, knock some common sense into everyone involved, and steer things toward a happier outcome? 😉

But jokes aside, I began thinking about how much women take in.

We absorb other people’s anxieties, manage expectations, juggle responsibilities, hold families together, and somehow keep plowing ahead. We are mothers, daughters, wives, friends, professionals, caregivers—often several of these at once.

And somewhere amid all these roles, we must also find room for ourselves. For our own aspirations, disappointments, uncertainties, and dreams.

Perhaps that was why I felt so drawn to the Devis this year. I wasn’t looking at distant, impossibly perfect goddesses. I was beginning to recognize something of our own lives in what they represent.

Strength doesn’t always look like a tigress charging into battle. Although some of my oldest friends might disagree! Born on the second day of Navarathri, I was named Durga Annapurna. For decades, a group of friends, including my dear friend Bindi, have affectionately called me “Purni-Sherni”—Purni (total/complete?) the Tigress—for my reputation as a fierce go-getter. Bindi even gifted me a hand-painted tigress for one of my recent birthdays!

But lately, I have been discovering another kind of strength—one that is gentler and manifests more quietly. Sometimes it simply means getting up in the morning and carrying on, even when you aren’t quite sure what comes next.

And knowledge isn’t always about finding the right answer. Sometimes it is the wisdom to recognize that not everything needs to be resolved today—and to trust that we will find our way.

The Devis Among Us

During Navarahtri, I experienced another reminder of the feminine divine—this time, not in the gilded panels of a Tanjavur painting, but in a roomful of women gathered at my friend Manju’s home.

We sang bhajans (devotional songs) and chanted shlokas (sacred Sanskrit verses passed down over millennia that share eternal truth). We laughed, posed for pictures, ate sumptuous food, exchanged stories, gossiped a little (surely, the goddesses would forgive us!), and shared some of our worries and woes.

Manju explained the festival’s significance. Anju offered a Vedantic (from ancient Hindu scriptures) perspective. And Gabriela appeared resplendent in a sari, perhaps to the astonishment of her American husband and German family!

Wisdom, laughter, generosity, compassion, and strength filled that room. And, of course, plenty of good food.

As I looked around, I realized the Devis we worship aren’t so far removed from the women we are.

Each of us carries her own share of responsibilities, anxieties, hopes, disappointments, and dreams. Yet, for a few precious hours that evening, we set our responsibilities and worries aside. We were simply ourselves—women enjoying one another’s company, drawing strength from shared experiences, and finding joy in belonging.

But perhaps our evening had even offered us a kind of victory—over isolation, worries, and the little burdens that sometimes weigh down our spirits.

I arrived at Manju’s home to celebrate the Devis. I left feeling that I had spent the evening in their company.

And perhaps, in some small way, we had all rediscovered the Devis within ourselves.

These days, when I look at my Tanjavur painting (see the painting above), I still see those knowing smiles.

And I find myself smiling back.

—Anu Prabhala, originally from India lives in Maryland. She adds: “If these reflections resonate with you, subscribe to my weekly blog, Imperfectly Perfect, free at https://anuprabhala.substack.com/subscribe for more stories about life, its surprises, and the ways we learn to see.”

Note: The Navarathri festival was recently celebrated from Oct. 11-20; Oct. 20th being the Vijayadashami (or Dussehra). In 2027, Navarathri will be celebrated from Sept. 30th through Oct. 9th. On October 21st, the USPS released a new postal stamp to observe the annual five-day Hindu festival of lights, Diwali, which will be celebrated Nov. 7-11, 2026.