Author's POV

The pre-Navratri energy at the venue had reached a fever pitch. The heavy, resonant thrum of the dhol vibrated through the decorated arches of the courtyard, creating a rhythmic pulse that seemed to mirror the skyrocketing anxiety of the girls huddled near the edge of the pavilion. The air was thick with the scent of crushed marigolds, burning camphor, and the crisp desert breeze pulling at the edges of their traditional attire.