Lovers wearing the yellows and oranges of fire meandered hand in hand, their lithe tails sinuously tangling together and untangling, their adoring stares locked on each other. Parents chased after children clutching sparklers and sticky sweets. Musicians played rousing folk songs, energized by the enthusiastic clapping of their listeners. And like confetti sprinkled by an unseen hand, clouds of pastel champak blossoms showered down over everyone.

Asha led Venkat past two naginis crouched on a marble pathway, constructing rangoli in alluring colors that might have come straight from a candy factory. The intricate rice powder patterns depicted the usual images of mandalas and Durga Devi’s knowing gaze, but as Venkat stopped to admire them, one divine kajal-ringed eye winked up at him.

A snatch of the women’s conversation reached his ears, a competition to determine who had paid more for their bangles of gold and silver: “It certainly seemed like more than I could afford, but Mahadevi deserves to have Her devoted servant represent Her in nothing less than the best!”

“Oh, yes!” The second woman waved her wrist so that her surfeit of bangles clinked together. “What would it look like if I did not trouble myself to commission a fine new design from Jitendra? The cost of custom work may pinch, yet how would She otherwise ever know I would sacrifice all things for Her?”

Venkat repressed a laugh. Right. Durga Mata is the one who gets the credit when you show off how rich you are. Of course.

Deepavali didn’t actually fall until a couple of weeks after Navratri, but vividly painted clay diyas had already appeared across the palace grounds, along with mirror-studded cloth lanterns strung on slender cords and the constant pop and fizzle of firecrackers like tiny starbursts. And the best confectioners in the land had set up stalls festooned with beaded torans to take advantage of every minute.

One had currently roped in Asha, who handed over a coin and then bit into a piece of sunlight leaf–topped kaju katli. “In your hands, the humble ivory cashew has transcended into a supernal delight,” she declared, eliciting a beam from the vendor.

The gods must have been on Venkat’s side in that moment, because he managed to keep a straight face.