Biju Dharmapalan
bijudharmapalan@gmail.com
In school classrooms, girls often do well in science-sometimes exceptionally well. They score high, answer confidently, and speak about careers in medicine, research, or environmental science with genuine enthusiasm. Yet as the academic funnel narrows, something shifts. By the time science reaches its more demanding spaces-research laboratories, doctoral programmes, institutional leadership-many of these young women are no longer there. Their absence is quiet, almost invisible, and therefore easy to ignore.
This withdrawal rarely happens all at once. It unfolds slowly. A suggestion to choose a course with “better balance.” A reminder that research careers are uncertain. An unspoken warning about long hours and delayed stability. Over time, excitement gives way to calculation. Science begins to look less like curiosity in motion and more like a prolonged test of endurance.
National Science Day, observed on 28 February to mark C. V. Raman’s discovery of the Raman Effect, is usually framed as a celebration-of discovery, achievement, and national pride. The 2026 theme, Women in Science: Catalysing Viksit Bharat, invites a different response. It asks whether the scientific system, as it currently functions, actually makes room for women-or merely applauds those who manage to survive it.
At the school level, the numbers appear reassuring. Girls perform well, often better than boys. The drop happens later, and that is precisely why it is misread. When women step away from science at the undergraduate, postgraduate, or research stage, the explanation offered is “choice.” But choices are shaped by repeated signals-about what is rewarded, what is tolerated, and what quietly carries a cost.
Encouragement towards science is rarely unconditional for girls. Curiosity is welcomed; ambition is handled carefully. A boy who wants to become a physicist is seen as focused. A girl with the same aspiration is advised to remain flexible. Over time, such advice accumulates. When women students observe senior women scientists being sidelined, spoken about rather than spoken to, or passed over for recognition, science begins to resemble a space where competence alone is never enough. Disinterest, then, is not natural. It is learned.
For those who do enter scientific institutions, the terrain shifts again. Chauvinism today is rarely explicit, but it remains present in task allocation, in informal networks, in whose work is considered “serious.” Women are often excluded from high-visibility assignments or leadership roles on the assumption that they may not be “available.” Gossip plays a particularly damaging role. It does not challenge women openly; it erodes them quietly, questioning credibility, commitment, and character in ways that never find their way into official records.
There are moments when this hostility surfaces more starkly. In one case, a nationally respected woman scientist was subjected to an attempt to malign her reputation on the very day of her retirement, after decades of service. The effort failed, but the intent was unmistakable. Such incidents are rarely discussed, yet they linger-especially for younger women watching closely.
Over time, many women in science learn that speaking up carries consequences. Silence is reframed as professionalism. Endurance is praised as resilience. Institutional harmony becomes a convenient reason to look away. This culture does not just damage individual careers; it quietly communicates to women students that science is a place where dignity must be managed carefully.
One issue almost never acknowledged in this conversation is the biological reality of the menstrual cycle. Laboratory work often demands long hours of standing, physically demanding procedures, rigid timelines, and night shifts. These expectations are framed as neutral, but they are built around a male physiological norm. Supervisors rarely account for periods of pain, fatigue, or discomfort, and consideration during such times is often absent. Many women, therefore, work through physical strain in silence, not because they must, but because asking for understanding is seen as weakness. Over time, this too shapes decisions-especially for students deciding whether laboratory science is worth the cost.
Institutional neglect has also been literal. Until recently, some premier laboratories lacked even basic facilities for women. This was not an oversight of resources, but of perspective. Exclusion often operates not through confrontation, but through habitual blindness.
For women at the doctoral and postdoctoral stages, pressures intensify. Married scholars are viewed with hesitation. Motherhood is treated as an interruption rather than a shared responsibility that institutions should be equipped to support. These assumptions persist even in spaces that pride themselves on rationality and evidence.
Policy interventions have, in recent years, opened leadership positions to more women, and this matters. Representation changes culture, slowly but perceptibly. When women lead institutions, younger women see not just possibility, but continuity.
As National Science Day 2026 is observed, the theme should not remain symbolic. Celebrating women in science cannot be reduced to awards or anniversaries. It requires confronting why so many capable women choose not to stay-and whether scientific institutions are prepared to change rather than merely commemorate.
A Viksit Bharat will not be built on innovation alone. It will depend on whether science can become a space where talent need not negotiate dignity. When women no longer have to endure science to belong in it, the system itself will be stronger-and more honest.
(The author is the Dean -Academic Affairs, Garden City University, Bengaluru)
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