Rebel Nomad: Isabelle Eberhardt

Continuing our celebration of path-breaking women this month. Through history, women have often been denied rightful recognition for their contribution in different fields. In STEM, their significant work has been eclipsed by the attention and glory garnered by men. While many of these female scientists and researchers are equally present in labs, they tend to lose visibility as their achievements advance. These achievements have been ignored, minimized, or credited to men. 

There is another band of women, who have had to make efforts to disguise their real persona in order to pursue their passions. This has been the story of several women who have stepped into what is traditionally considered a ‘male domain’. Among these are women explorers who have boldly ventured into dangerous terrains on perilous missions; women who broke conventional barriers in more ways than one.

One such story is that of Isabelle Eberhardt—journalist, writer, explorer-adventurer, and rebel. Today she would also be identified as ‘feminist’.

Isabelle was born in February 1877 in Geneva, Switzerland. Her mother Nathalie was the daughter of a German and a Russian Jew. There is some uncertainty about Isabelle’s real father, but she always considered her mother’s husband Alexandre Trophimowsky as her father. Isabelle was taught by Alexandre, who was a tutor. She studied philosophy history and geography, and also learned many languages including French, Russian, German, Italian, Latin, Greek, and classical Arabic. She loved literature and read a great deal. Alexandre had liberal views and gave her a lot of freedom to explore, and develop, her own personality.

When she was 17 Isabelle started correspondence with a French officer in the Sahara desert wanting to know, in detail, all about life there. This triggered in her the yen to explore for herself. In the meanwhile, based on her correspondence, she began to write short stories about the region under a male pseudonym Nicolas Podolinsky. These were published in a magazine. By now Isabelle was eager to see and experience for herself.

She met a photographer from Algiers who offered to help her move to Algiers. In May 1897 Isabelle and her mother moved to Bone in Algeria. Isabelle was 20 years old. Both mother and daughter were distressed by how the colonial Europeans treated the local Arab population. They rented a house in the non-European part of town. This was an area where women were not expected to go out alone or without a veil. So Isabelle started wearing a burnous and a turban (the dress worn by the local men). She quickly became fluent in Arabic. She and her mother also converted to Islam. Isabelle found it easy to accept Islam because she believed in fate, and Islam gave meaning to this belief. Isabelle’s unusual lifestyle caused the French colonial settlers and officials to suspect her of being a spy.

Isabel converted her observations and experiences into fictional stories, some of which were published. Her mother’s death in the same year that they had moved to Algiers, was a great blow. She returned for a while to Geneva to look after her sick father. After he died, she mortgaged the family property and returned to Africa in 1900, and began to lead a nomadic life. She wandered restlessly in North Africa, usually alone, writing her diaries, stories and travelogues. To freely experience everything as a native would, she wore only male clothing, joined a local Sufi group, and even changed her name to Si Mahmoud Saadi. During her travels she met and fell in love with an Algerian soldier Slimane Ehnni. This heightened the suspicion of the French authorities. Isabelle continued to court danger; she was attacked and severely wounded by a man with a sword. She was ordered by the French to leave North Africa, and went back to France where she could barely make ends meet by working as a dock worker, disguised as a man. Meanwhile she continued with her writing.

A friend introduced her to Eugene Brieux, a writer who supported Arab freedom. He tried to publish her stories, but there was no market nor support for pro-Arab stories. The only ray of light was when Slimane Ehnni was transferred to a military unit near Marseilles. They did not need permission to marry in France, and the two married in 1901. The next year, her husband left the army and the couple returned to Algeria.

Back in Algeria she started working for the Al-Akhbar newspaper. Her novel Trimardeur also began to appear in parts in the paper. She worked hard, but only when she felt like it; and spent all her money on tobacco, books, and gifts for friends. She travelled for long periods on assignments.

Isabelle continued to lead an erratic life, travelling in perilous conditions; she indulged excessively in drink and drugs. But amid all this, her writing still occupied a central part of her life. Her articles and short stories appeared in the local press, and for a while she also wrote a regular column on the customs of Bedouin tribes. In 1903 when reporting on a battle she met the French general Hubert Lyautey, and helped him communicate with the local Arabs because of her fluency in Arabic.

Isabelle’s nomadic and often promiscuous lifestyle took a severe toll on her mental and physical health. By 1904 she was so spent and weak that she was admitted to a military hospital in Ain Sefra. Some weeks later she discharged herself, against medical advice, to meet with her husband who she hadn’t seen for almost a year. The very next day the town where they had rented a mud house was struck by a flash flood. Isabelle was missing. General Lyautey ordered a search; Isabelle’s body was found later, pinned under a beam of the house, and surrounded by the soggy pages of her latest manuscript. Isabelle was buried in Aïn Sefra with a marble tombstone with her adopted Arabic name and her birth name in French. Isabelle was only 27 years old; an untimely end to a short and tumultuous life.

The General tried to collect as many of Isabelle’s unpublished writings as he could manage to find. These were later published. Her first published story after her death, Dans l’Ombre Chaude de l’Islam (In the Warm Shadow of Islam), was highly praised in 1906. This book made Isabelle famous as one of the best writers about Africa. Streets were named after her in Béchar and Algiers.

Today Isabelle is perceived as an early feminist and anti-colonialist. In her own time, she was simply a woman ahead of her times—adventurer, chronicler, gender bender, and one who lived on her own terms.

–Mamata

The Matilda Effect: When Women-Scientists are Written Out

As appropriate to the month when we mark International Women’s Day, our pieces have revolved around women, their achievements and barriers to their growth. This week, we look at an uncomfortable historical pattern: how many of the contributions made by women have been ignored, minimized, or credited to men. This phenomenon has a name — the Matilda Effect.

The term was coined in 1993 by historian of science Margaret W. Rossiter, who used it to describe the systematic denial of recognition to women-scientists whose work was often attributed to male colleagues. Rossiter named it after the 19th-century American activist Matilda Joslyn Gage, who had earlier observed how women’s intellectual achievements were routinely erased from public record.

In simple terms, the Matilda Effect refers to the tendency for women’s scientific or scholarly contributions to be overlooked while men receive the credit.

Why the Matilda Effect Matters

Recognition is not just about credit; it shapes opportunity.

Academic promotions, research funding, leadership roles, and history are all tied to who gets acknowledged. When women’s contributions are under-recognized, it creates a cycle in which fewer women are visible as role models for the next generation.

Young girls interested in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics often search for people who look like them in positions of intellectual authority. When those figures are missing from textbooks and public discourse, aspirations can quietly narrow.

The Matilda Effect therefore operates not only as a historical injustice but also as a structural barrier to gender equity in knowledge systems.

History’s Striking Examples

Consider Rosalind Franklin’s whose X-ray crystallography images were critical to understanding the structure of DNA and enabled the breakthrough model proposed by James Watson and Francis Crick. Yet when the Nobel Prize was awarded in 1962, Franklin — who had already passed away — received little recognition for her role.

Another well-known case is of Lise Meitner, the Austrian physicist who played a key role in explaining nuclear fission. The Nobel Prize for the discovery went solely to her collaborator Otto Hahn.

India’s own intellectual history reflects similar patterns.

Take Janaki Ammal, the pioneering botanist and cytogeneticist whose work significantly advanced plant breeding and biodiversity studies in India. Despite her groundbreaking research, she remained far less publicly known than many of her male contemporaries.

Or Anna Mani, the pioneering physicist and meteorologist whose work laid the foundation for modern meteorological instrumentation in India. She played a crucial role in standardizing weather measurement systems and advancing research in solar radiation and wind energy, contributing significantly to India’s renewable energy potential. Despite the far-reaching impact of her work, she remained relatively under-recognized outside scientific and policy circles.

(MM blogs on these two amazing ladies are linked below)

Similarly, Asima Chatterjee, one of India’s foremost organic chemists, made pioneering contributions to the chemistry of natural products and anti-malarial drugs. Although widely respected within scientific circles, her name rarely appears in popular narratives of Indian science.

Signs of Change

Things are hopefully changing. An example is Tessy Thomas, often called India’s “Missile Woman.” As a senior scientist at the Defence Research and Development Organisation, she played a key role in the development of the long-range ballistic missile Agni‑V. Her journey from a small town in Kerala to leading strategic defence projects has made her an inspiration for many young women considering careers in engineering and defence research.

Another widely admired figure is Gagandeep Kang, a leading medical scientist known for her work on infectious diseases and vaccines. As the first Indian woman elected Fellow of the Royal Society in the field of biomedical science, she has become a powerful role model for girls interested in medical research and public health.

In the world of space science, Ritu Karidhal and Muthayya Vanitha gained national recognition for their leadership roles in India’s lunar mission Chandrayaan‑2 at the Indian Space Research Organisation. Their visibility during the mission helped reshape public perceptions about who leads complex scientific and technological projects.

Similarly, Nandini Harinath, another senior scientist at ISRO, became widely known after the success of the Mars Orbiter Mission, where she was part of the core navigation and mission design team.

Dr. Gagandeep Kang

What distinguishes these scientists is not only their technical expertise but also their public presence. Through lectures, interviews, and outreach programs, they actively encourage young girls to consider careers in STEM — science, technology, engineering, and mathematics.

Recognition is the first step. Structural barriers — from access to research funding to representation in leadership — still need attention.

Here is to women-scientists having their day and say in scientific research!

–Meena

Picture: Indian Academy of Sciences

​See Magnoila Lady Janaki Ammal https://millennialmatriarch464992105.wordpress.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=2994&action=edit

and Weather Woman Anna Mani at https://millennialmatriarch464992105.wordpress.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=3235&action=edit

The March to Freedom: Women and the Salt Satyagraha

March is a significant month in the history of India’s freedom movement. On 12 March 1930 Mahatma Gandhi set out from the Sabarmati Ashram in Ahmedabad on a journey that was to cover many milestones, in more than one way.

On 2 March 1930 Gandhiji had written a letter to the Viceroy giving notice of his intention to launch a civil disobedience movement by symbolically breaking the Salt Law which in his opinion was “the most iniquitous of all from the poor man’s standpoint.” He was snubbed in return; which strengthened his resolve. He selected Dandi, a seaside village in Gujarat as the site for his symbolic gesture, and planned to walk the distance of 241 miles from his Sabarmati Ashram in Ahmedabad, along with a select band of co-workers. The date for setting off on the march was fixed for 12 March, and 6 April was the date set for the ‘breaking of the salt law” at Dandi. Gandhiji also vowed not to return to the ashram until the Salt Act was repealed, and Swaraj was won.

On March 12, 1930 at 6.30 a.m. Gandhiji, left the Ashram accompanied by 78 satyagrahis. These represented a cross-section of the people from all over the country: Andhra Pradesh, Bengal, Bihar, Bombay, Gujarat, Karnataka, Kerala, Kutchh, Maharashtra, Punjab, Rajputana, Sind, Tamil Nadu, U.P. Utkal, and even Nepal. The group included members of all communities. They fell in a wide age spectrum from 16-year-old Vitthal Liladhar Thakkar to 61-year-old Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi! The main criteria for the selection, that he personally made, was that the marchers were disciplined, and strictly adhered to the principles of ahimsa and satyagraha.

Despite so much diversity, there was one lacuna in the composition of the marchers.  The group did not include any women. One of the later historians attributed this to Gandhi’s concern that the British would taunt the marchers for being cowardly and “hiding behind the women” in the battlefield. But many women were eager to join the battle. Gandhiji was inundated with letters, telegrams and personal appeals from women to permit them to take active part in the struggle. Gandhiji had other plans for their engagement. In a piece published in Young India, titled To the Women of India Gandhiji wrote: “I feel that I have now found that work. …Let the women of India take up these two activities, specialize in them; they would contribute more than man to national freedom. They would have an access of power and self-confidence to which they have hitherto been strangers.”

Women in Bombay with sea water to make salt https://www.mkgandhi.org/articles/a-fistful-of-salt.php

At each of the 24 villages that Gandhiji and his yatris halted for the night enroute to Dandi, Gandhiji urged women to step out of their homes and make salt locally. He also encouraged women to participate and contribute to the struggle by taking up picketing of liquor shops and foreign cloth, and taking up spinning. Hundreds of women from the neighbouring villages came to see and hear Bapu. Many of these women were unlettered, and followed strictly subscribed traditional roles. But Salt struck a common chord in every one of them. It was the ingredient that linked the domestic with the national.  

Women from all walks of life took up Bapu’s clarion call with great energy and commitment. They related closely to the symbolic power of salt. As Kamaladevi Chattopdadhyay, who was on the forefront of the movement wrote: The salt satyagraha must stand out as not only unique but as an incredible form of revolution in human history. The very simplicity of this weapon was as appealing as intriguing. So far as women were concerned it was ideally tailor-made for them. As women naturally preside over culinary operations, salt is for them the most intimate and indispensable ingredient”.

Kamlaladevi organized volunteers for a variety of programmes including prabhat pheris (dawn processions), gathering salt and brine on the beaches of Bombay, and moving across the city distributing small packages of illicitly made salt. Women in the hundreds came out onto the streets to take part in these activities. Once in the fray, women were not to be daunted nor afraid of police batons.

In the following months the movement spread across the country, as more and more women poured out of their homes to join the activities. Women started organizing prabhat pheris on the streets of Bombay and Ahmedabad, where they sang songs about the bounty of the motherland. They helped put together vanar senas, or monkey brigades, consisting of children who supported the activists in offering resistance to the British. As their presence grew, and activities expanded the police became less restrained. The women faced brutal lathi charges, and a record number ended up in prison for the first time in the history of the subcontinent.

Chroniclers of that period have noted that while the original Dandi March began with a troop of males, the subsequent events inspired an unprecedented movement of women from every walk of life to move out of the private spaces of their homes, and traditionally designated roles, and enter public spaces to join a national movement.

Jawaharlal Nehru wrote in The Discovery of India, “Here were these women, women of the upper or middle classes leading sheltered lives in their homes, peasant women, working-class women, rich women, poor women, pouring out in their tens of thousands in defiance of government order and police lathi.”

The Dandi March was a turning point not only in the history of India’s freedom  movement, but also in the participation of Indian women in a political cause. It was a catalyst for women to claim public spaces in large numbers, united by a common cause.

March 8 is celebrated as International Women’s Day. In the United States the month of March is marked as Women’s History Month to honour women’s contributions in  American history. In India too we must celebrate the month of March as significant, the month in which, several historic events brought the women of India into the public space, and a movement that saw the emergence of women as warriors in a non-violent war.

–Mamata

WOW, AN AMBIGRAM!

Once in a while, you come across something that makes you pause and look twice. Not because it is complicated — but because it bends the rules you thought were fixed. Ambigrams fall in that category.

An ambigram is a word or phrase designed so that it can be read in more than one way (like ‘WOW’ in the title, and the word ‘ambigram’ itself above). Sometimes you can rotate a word upside down and it still reads the same word. Sometimes a mirror reveals a hidden twin. Sometimes the letters rearrange themselves into an entirely different word depending on how you look at them. For example, bud turns into dub, while Malayalam reads the same both ways. And when turned upside down, swims reads the same, while wow turns into mom. Some ambigrams are natural (such as dollop), while others can be designed or created with calligraphy. Calligraphic ambigrams are quite popular and are often used as logos or tattoo designs.

It is typography performing a magic trick.And once you notice ambigrams, you start seeing them everywhere.

The graphic artist John Langdon’s mind-bending designs brought the form into the public eye. His work gained global attention when Dan Brown used ambigrams as visual motifs in the thriller Angels & Demons. Words like Earth, Air, Fire, and Water appeared as rotational ambigrams through artistic interpretations in the novel, sparking a wave of fascination with this unusual art form.

But ambigrams are older than that sudden burst of fame.

Some of the earliest playful experiments with reversible words appeared in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when typographers and puzzle-makers began exploring the idea that letters could be visually flexible rather than fixed. The concept was formally named “ambigram” by cognitive scientist Douglas Hofstadter, author of the well-known book Gödel, Escher, Bach. Hofstadter loved patterns that blurred the line between art, mathematics, and perception — and ambigrams fit that fascination perfectly.

Unlike normal typography, where letters follow strict shapes, ambigram artists must negotiate between readability and symmetry. A single letter might need to transform into another when flipped. Curves may double as stems. Serifs may become loops.

There are several kinds of ambigrams, and each works its magic differently.

Rotational ambigrams are perhaps the most famous. Rotate the word 180 degrees and it still reads correctly. Sometimes it turns into a different word. One classic example transforms “sun” into “sun” again after rotation, while more complex designs might flip “love” into “hate.”

Mirror ambigrams reveal their secret when placed beside a mirror, completing the word through reflection.

Perceptual shift ambigrams are subtler. They rely on the brain’s tendency to interpret shapes differently depending on context. A letter that looks like an “M” in one moment might suddenly become a “W” the next.

The joy of ambigrams lies in the way they invite interaction. Unlike ordinary text, which we simply read, ambigrams ask us to play. We rotate the page. Tilt our heads. Squint slightly. The moment when the hidden reading suddenly appears produces a spark of delight — a reminder that perception is not always as fixed as we think.

Creating an ambigram requires patience and experimentation. Designers sketch dozens of variations before discovering the balance where form and meaning finally align.

Interestingly, ambigrams often appear in unexpected places. Tattoo artists love them because they can encode dual meanings into a single design. Logos sometimes use them to create visual symmetry. Puzzle books and optical illusion collections frequently feature them as playful brain-teasers.

We live in a time when language moves quickly — texts, tweets, captions, headlines. Words flash past our eyes faster than we can savour them. Ambigrams slow things down. They ask us to look at words, not just read them.

They remind us that letters are shapes. That meaning can shift with perspective. That the same word can contain more than one story.

In that sense, ambigrams are more than clever design.

They are small lessons in perception.

Turn the page around, and the world might look different!

–Meena

Image source: Wiktionary

Superslueths: Lady Detectives

Continuing Meena’s celebration of women in unconventional professions. While forensic scientists do a lot of their work in labs, there is a band of sleuths that follow clues on the ground. These are the women detectives. Crime fiction through the ages has had its share of popular female detectives. From Jane Marple, the gentle (but canny) epitome of an old English aunt, to Mma Ramotswe, the generously proportioned Botswana detective, these fictional detectives have a dedicated band of followers. Not many readers may even stop to wonder if such sleuths exist in real life. Indeed, they do! And the real lady detectives probably date back as far back as the fictional ones.

In Victorian England several stories of female detectives appeared in newspapers in the 1850s and 1860s. These ladies donned disguises to pursue thieves, and spy on adulterous husbands. Most of these ladies were initially part of male-led detective agencies, but by the 1880s women were beginning to set up their own agencies. Maud West was one of the most popular and well-known private detectives of her time in England. She was famous for her disguises. In 1905 she set up her own private detective agency. Over the next century such lady detectives were in demand especially as they were discreet, ingenious, and smart at surveillance.

But it took until the early twentieth century for a woman to join Scotland Yard as a detective. On December 27, 1922, Lilian Wyles became the first woman in the history of the Metropolitan Police to join the Criminal Investigation Department (C.I.D.) as an inspector. She was promoted to Woman Detective Inspector First Class on February 18, 1935.

Alice Clement: Queen of Dramatic Arrest

Meanwhile across the Atlantic, women were also entering what was considered to be a male domain. In 1856 a self-possessed young woman walked into the Chicago office of Pinkerton Detective Agency looking for a job, but not a job as a secretary. Kate Warne was hired, becoming the first female detective in the United States of America. She proved herself to be fearless, and adept at digging out valuable information. In one investigation she posed as a fortune teller to entice secrets from a suspect; in another she made friends with the murderer’s wife. The most defining case of her career was to foil an attempt to assassinate President Abraham Lincoln while on a train trip. She infiltrated the plotters by cultivating their wives and daughters. Her exploits encouraged other women to explore this field. Kate Warne rose to become the superintendent of the female bureau of the Chicago office of Pinkerton Detective Agency.  

While Kate was into private investigation, the official law and order agencies still had to engage women. In 1913, Alice Clement was the only woman in the class of almost 100 new police officers in Chicago’s police force. And Alice made no attempt to colorlessly blend in with the uniforms. She flaunted fashionable dresses, ropes of pearls, and a sophisticated haircut, even as she brandished a submachine gun, and practiced martial arts. She was passionate about her chosen profession, famous for her undercover work, and solving difficult murder cases. The Queen of Dramatic Arrest as she was called, was feared by even the most hardened criminals of the day. Alice Clement was a major advocate for women’s rights including the right to vote. She also travelled across the United States making a case for police departments to include policewomen, leading to several cities opening up this career for women. The substantial presence of women officers in the police dramas that we see on TV today, are not just reel characters but reflections of the real women who are integral to investigation of crime.

It took almost a hundred years after these pioneering PIs, for India’s first female detective to make her presence felt. Rajani Pandit the daughter of a CID officer, did some instinctive sleuthing while in college.  She tried to find out why one of her classmates was behaving out of character, unraveled the mystery; and informed the parents who were grateful. Rajani was now bitten by the bug, and began to pursue investigative work, more as a passion than profession. Her father was not too happy with his daughter’s choice of work. But news of Rajani’s successful investigations spread through word of mouth, followed by some media publicity. Cases started pouring in, and in 1986 she set up her own detective agency–Rajani Investigative Bureau. From a time when the idea of a female detective was met with disdain, Rajani and her bureau have solved 75000 cases. These cover a range, from extramarital affairs to corporate espionage, missing persons to murder.

Today more women are making a foray in this field. Perhaps the youngest female detective to set up her own agency is Tanya Puri. Still in her 20s she runs Lady Detectives India. The agency has half-a-dozen female investigators. They call themselves the Girl Squad, and usually work in pairs when out late on Delhi’s streets.

Female detectives nowadays carry out undercover operations, conduct surveillance, take charge of high-stakes investigations, cases of corporate espionage, and sensitive matrimonial investigations. Women in India can legally lead investigations.  

What makes women excellent investigators? As a veteran male detective observed: They are highly perceptive, they know how to get access locations and discussions that men can’t, and they’re very organized. Women communicate empathy which engenders trust.  

Mma Ramotswe summed this up neatly: Women are the ones who know what’s going on. They are the ones with eyes.   

On this Women’s Day celebrating the spunk in every woman—past, present and future!

–Mamata

In Pursuit of Criminals: A Women’s Day Special

Not chocolates and roses. Here is a Women’s Day post that is about gore and crime.

Though not often associated with forensic science, women down the ages and across the world have played a huge role in defining it. We celebrate a few of them.

The Dollhouse Decorator

At a time when women were expected to add beautiful touches to drawing rooms, Frances Glessner Lee was building miniature crime scenes.

Often called the ‘Mother of Forensic Science’, she started recreating dollhouse-scale reconstructions of unexplained deaths in exquisite detail. This stemmed from her inherent interest in solving crimes, and inputs from a close friend who was a medical examiner, who believed that investigators often disturbed crime scenes, missed small but critical evidence and jumped to conclusions too quickly.

These “Nutshell Studies” became training tools for investigators at Harvard University. Every curtain hem, every blood spatter, every overturned chair was re-created down to the smallest detail. Trainees had to study the model for a fixed amount of time, take notes, propose the cause and manner of death, and defend their reasoning. Thousands of police personnel were trained using these tools which contributed greatly to the professionalization of forensic science

Born in 1878 to a wealthy family, she was denied a formal education in medicine simply because she was a woman. Later in life, after inheriting a substantial fortune, she used her resources to support the emerging field of forensic science at Harvard University.

The Woman in the Mass Graves

Fast forward to the 1990s.

In post-genocide landscapes in Rwanda and the Balkans, a young forensic anthropologist named Clea Koff was working with teams assisting the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda and the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia. 

She is best known for her work investigating mass graves and gathering forensic evidence of genocide and crimes against humanity for United Nations tribunals in the 1990s and early 2000s. In Rwandashe worked in exhuming mass graves of victims from the 1994 genocide, documenting and recovering remains used as evidence in genocide prosecutions; in Bosnia, Croatia, Serbia, and Kosovoshe participated in multiple missions documenting war crimes and crimes against humanity.

Her efforts in unearthing skeletal remains, establishing identity, and collecting evidence to support criminal prosecutions helped in proving many crimes against humanity.

She is also known for her widely read memoir The Bone Woman.

The Woman Who Said, “Check Again.”

Then there is contemporary Britain.

Angela Gallop, born 1950, joined the Forensic Science Service in 1974 as a senior biologist — one of the few women in the laboratory at the time. She visited her first crime scene in 1978, investigating the murder of Helen Rytka by the Yorkshire Ripper.

She contributed decisively to many cases: in the case of Roberto Calvi, she could prove murder rather than suicide; her meticulous re-examination of microscopic blood evidence helped to identify the real criminal in the Lynette White murder; she found evidence to tie the murderer to the crimes in the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path Murders. Her work helped to re-open several cases like the Rachel Nickell murder

She was also involved in the review of the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, finding no scientific support for conspiracy theories.

After her contributions to the government, she founded Forensic Alliance, an independent consultancy known for revisiting controversial cases.

She was one of the first people to warn about confirmation bias–the human tendency to decide first and prove later. Her stance was always that evidence must lead.

Thanks to her, criminals were brought to book, and maybe even more importantly, innocents were released.

And Closer Home…

Dr. Rukmani Krishnamurthy is widely recognised as India’s first woman forensic scientist.

She entered forensic science in 1974 (the same year that Angela Gallop began her career!), joining the Directorate of Forensic Science Laboratories (DFSL) in Mumbai at a time when the field was overwhelmingly male-dominated and went on to become Director of DFSL Maharashtra and later took up many senior forensic leadership roles.

Dr. Rukami Krishnamurthy

She led major forensic examinations in high-profile cases such as the 1993 Mumbai blasts, the Matunga train fire, Joshi-Abhyankar serial killings, dowry deaths, and others.

Under her leadership, forensic labs adopted advanced methods including DNA profiling, cyber forensics, and lie detection techniques.  She helped transform Indian forensic practice from a peripheral support function to a central scientific pillar in criminal investigations.

Another star is Sherly Vasu, a trailblazing forensic pathologist and surgeon, known for her deep impact in medico-legal work in Kerala. She completed her MD in Forensic Medicine and became the first woman forensic surgeon in the state.  She headed departments of forensic medicine at prestigious medical colleges and later served as Principal of a medical college. She has not only trained generations of forensic scientists, but has conducted around 15,000 autopsies and contributed to evidence in many criminal cases.

So this Women’s Day, let us pay homage to these women who made their mark in a very offbeat career path—bringing criminals to book. It is women like them, who quietly established that expertise is all that counts, who have paved the way for all women in all careers.

Happy Women’s Day!

–Meena