The Agomoni songs do not narrate a battle. They narrate a family, and the family is a poor Bengali one. Menaka, wife of the mountain king Himalaya, dreams of her daughter Uma, married off to Shiva — ash-smeared, homeless, intoxicated, penniless — and living far away in Kailash. Menaka begs Giriraj to go and fetch her. Uma arrives on Saptami; the house is full for four days; on Dashami she has to go back. The Bijoya songs are the songs of that return.
This is why Durga Puja feels the way it does to Bengalis, and it is a genuinely unusual theological move. Every structural feature of the Bengali festival follows from it: the five-day span, the welcome at bodhon, the feeding, the sindur khela in which married women send her off with vermilion exactly as a daughter is sent back to her husband's house, the sweets pressed on her at immersion, and the Bijoya embrace afterwards. The operative emotion has a Bengali name that does not translate — abhiman, the tenderness that is also reproach, of a mother who cannot say what she feels.
Who sings it has moved. This was household repertoire, sung by women in the weeks before Puja and learned from mothers; it is now largely professional and recorded. The canonical voices are recorded ones: Supriti Ghosh, Dwijen Mukhopadhyay, Sumitra Sen, Ramkumar Chattopadhyay, Arun Bhaduri. The genre's greatest Shyama Sangeet voice, Pannalal Bhattacharya, died in 1966 and has never been replaced.