As residents of Old Delhi move to modern neighbourhoods, everyday traditions and rituals are disappearing
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As a child, I often dreamed of them, those nine powerful, beautiful goddesses that spun the endless circle of creation and destruction on earth, but visited it only twice a year. I remember my grandmother sitting in her puja room redolent with incense and flowers, lovingly dressing the gods in new vestments to mark the coming of the Navratris. Although too young then to understand the concept of feminism, I gloried in the tales of these powerful devis who slayed demons and came to the rescue of gods and men alike. Over the years, I lost sight of these rituals, and the seasons came and went ...
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