Long before Bengal fashioned divinity from river clay, the Goddess may have lived in the golden light of the sun, the silence of ancient forests, and the sacred trees beneath which forgotten communities once prayed. Every autumn, Bengal falls under a spell. The scent of shiuli flowers drifts through the morning air, the kash fields turn white beneath the open sky, and the first beats of the dhak announce the homecoming of the Goddess. Soon, the familiar image appears—the ten-