I was speaking to someone who lost a lot in a sort of urban war. A war with a power, that subverted the justice (at least from her perspective). This happened in an inner South Indian town of India.
I was intrigued by how casually someone's everyday can be usurped by the dark shadows of power. I have always marveled at power, how it possibly corrupts and the entire journey of what might be personal decline (along the rabbit hole of power).
She spoke to me, of subjugation, of devastation. At one point, she shifted into a language which I recognized, but did not fully comprehend. I let her speak for a good few seconds, before she paused, and I jumped in, "I dont know that tongue", I said almost out of embarrassment.
She looked deep into my eye for quite some seconds, before telling me, "If you want to know of my war, you have to hear it in my language."
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