You had heard the rumors—everyone in the village had. Whispers floated from the tea stalls to the temple steps: people claiming they heard songs and a divine voice echoing from the heart of the forest. They said it was Maa Durga herself, singing in the dark, her ten arms swaying in rhythm with ancient melodies.

You didn’t believe a word. Superstitions, you told yourself. But curiosity is a strange thing. It gnawed at you for days, keeping you awake at night. One evening, with dusk creeping in and your heart thudding louder than it should, you took your shotgun and entered the jungle.

The forest was silent at first, eerily so. Then came the voice—soft, haunting, beautiful. It shimmered through the trees like mist, pulling me deeper into the foliage. Your feet moved as if they were not your own, following the music. And there she was.

Sitting on a moss-covered rock, bathed in moonlight. Ten arms draped in flowing silks, eyes calm and fierce all at once. Her lips moved, singing an ancient song that vibrated in your bones. Maa Durga.

You don’t know what came over you—fear, instinct, disbelief. You raised your shotgun, aimed it straight at her. She stopped singing.

Her eyes met mine. Not angry. Not scared. Just… knowing. The forest held its breath.

“Is this how you greet your mother, child?” she asked softly.