Illustrating the Unspoken: How Toto Tells Our Stories

I recently attended a deeply moving event at Atta Galatta, Bengaluru, called How the World Changes for Sexual Assault Survivors, named after Pragya Sikka’s book. This wasn’t a typical book discussion or author talk. It was structured as a circle — not a stage, not a podium — but a space intentionally created to foster safety, warmth and shared vulnerability. It was symbolic of what Pragya herself is working towards: creating safe spaces that centre conversation, emotion and lived experience, as opposed to the often sterile environment of conventional conferences.

The event revolved around Pragya’s book, which began as a collection of illustrations she made during the aftermath of her own experience with sexual assault. What began as an internal expression became a way for her to articulate what she didn’t have the vocabulary to explain to the people in her life. When she began sharing her drawings, something powerful happened — not only did people begin to understand her more deeply, but some also opened up and shared that they too had experienced similar things.

The book grew from there, eventually taking shape through the character of Toto, who carries not just Pragya’s story, but the stories of many survivors.

One part of the event that stayed with me was when Pragya shared how the earlier edition of the book was physically larger, but was later made smaller in response to feedback from many readers that they found it hard to hide the book from their families. This is a painful reminder of how topics like sexual assault are still surrounded by stigma and silence. 

Another thing that struck me was how she described the ‘milestones’ in a survivor’s journey. These are not big public victories, but deeply personal ones, like being able to wear earphones in a cab again without fear.

The gathering created space for quiet reflections that connected us as survivors and allies alike. The conversation flowed with consent and mutual guidance, with the audience steering the direction of the discussion as much as Pragya herself.

After the event, I picked up a copy of the book and read it over the next few days. What stood out immediately was how Pragya invited readers to interact with the book however they wished — to scribble in it, to colour the pages or simply to read and reflect. That freedom felt important, especially because this is a book that isn't just about survivors; in some ways, it belongs to survivors. 

The illustrations are powerful. Toto — the central figure — physically shrinks after each assault, and the emotional weight they carry grows heavier. There’s a ball of anger, grief, confusion and fear that follows Toto around, and it’s a visual metaphor that is very hard to forget. These pages don’t just tell a story; rather, they show us what it feels like to live on after trauma. Which is why, as I write this rather elaborate review of my experience with the book, I am rather confident that there is no way I can spoil the book for you. 

While reading the book, I noticed people around me taking an interest. A couple of them even asked if they could read it when I was done, and that filled me with hope. This event and book weren’t just about individual healing — they sparked dialogue. They opened up conversations that are so often hidden, feared or avoided.

How the World Changes for Sexual Assault Survivors is not just a book. It’s a bridge between survivors and themselves, between them and their communities, and perhaps most importantly, between silence and expression.

If you ever get the chance to attend a gathering with Pragya Sikka or pick up this book, do. I promise, it will leave you touched.