Recently I have been finding myself increasingly bewildered by the clamouring world around me. All distinction between truth and lies seems to have disappeared. For each abhorrent racist statement, there appears to be an industry of those who turn up to tell me I understood wrong, that it is my own fault that I misheard, misread, misunderstood. The gaslighting voices are so loud, so pervasive that at times I fear my hold on any sense of reality.
But in the midst of the fury of inarticulate noises, one image ties me fast to lived realities, to complex histories, to truths that will not be denied: it is the gajagamini, the woman who walks like elephants.