Every festival, every ancient story, every version of the mythological lores we inherited gave us only fragments of the goddess the fasting, the waiting, the good girl, the complete woman. She was never the daughter who read her own destiny in her palms before any sage did; never the woman who chose her father's forest over his terror; who beat her husband at dice and made him court her twice; who tore open heaven for one son and remade another from her own skin. I, Shivani is the goddess speaking for herself as a woman across seven chapters: daughter, beloved, wife, mother, destroyer, and finally, herself. She reclaims what the tellings left out: the three-thousand-year penance, a marriage chosen anew every single day, the rage that returned her to Kali, the stillness she chose for herself at the end of it. Rooted in the ancient tellings, and written by Anu Singh, who grew up between Mahashivaratri fasts and Durga Puja pandals, I, Shivani is every woman's story if she wants it. This is the story where she gets to choose. Every single time.

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