 For centuries, Hindus in India have turned to the goddesses of contagion, known collectively as Amman or the Divine Mother for help. During the current pandemic, these goddesses are being called on yet again. As cultural anthropologists who study religion, I have seen small shrines dedicated to these goddesses all over India. These contagion goddesses act as celestial epidemiologists. They protect against sickness and cure the ill, but if angered, they can also inflict disease. The first contagion goddess is a demon-turned-goddess, Harithi, who was worshipped during the Justinian plague of Rome in 542 A.D. It travelled to India via trade routes and killed between 25 to 100 million people. Nineteenth-century British colonial documents record waves of illness and death that struck my hometown of Bangalore, and the desperate pleas to a contagion goddess known as Plagamma. In South India, the premier contagion goddess is the Samatha-willing Mariaman, who slays the demons of virulence and illness. In the North, she is called Sheetana or the Cold One. But with advances in modern medicine, traditional epidemics have died down. As a result, healing rituals have become less relevant. But yet the goddesses live on. A new goddess of contagion named Aidsama was created in 1997 by a science teacher in a village outside Bangalore. The worshippers at her temple were schooled in prophylactic measures to prevent AIDS. Mariaman Shrine, a traffic roundabout in Bangalore, was transformed into a guardian against road accidents. In recent days, as India has eased the lockdown, the number of COVID-19 cases is rising. With no known cure, no viable vaccine and failing social distancing measures, we may need the goddess of contagion now more than ever before.