ThinkHer

In the decades following independence, science was a necessity for nation-building. It was seen as a strategic tool—science for defence, to secure sovereignty in a fragile geopolitical landscape; science for progress, to modernise agriculture, industry, and infrastructure; science for social well-being, to combat disease, hunger, and poverty; and science for economic growth, to reduce dependence on imports and build indigenous capability. But, at the same time, science was still nascent. The Department of Science and Technology under the Government was yet to come, and the Council of Scientific & Industrial Research (CSIR) was in the formative stage. Laboratories were few, resources were scarce, and institutional support for scientific inquiry was limited.  Science also occupied a complicated moral and political space. It was expected to be modern yet rooted, universal yet national, progressive yet attentive to indigenous traditions. Scientists stood at the intersection of...

In the early 1900s, the subatomic world was full of mystery, invisible forces, and unanswered questions. Scientists were drawn towards this invisible drama. However, only a few had the courage and determination to explore these unknown worlds and unravel their mysteries for people like us. Bibha Chowdhuri was one such scientist who pioneered the study of cosmic rays, the high-speed space bullets that crash into Earth's atmosphere. Bibha means 'light' in Bengali. In both name and nature, Bibha was a radiant force in Indian science. Born in Kolkata in 1913 to Banku Bihari Chowdhuri, a doctor, and Urmila Devi, Bibha was the third child in a family of six children. She was encouraged to pursue education at a time when few women entered science. In 1936, she earned her M.Sc. in Physics from the University of Calcutta—the only woman in her batch. Her academic excellence naturally led her to the field of research. Made on Canva @ThinkHer Although she reached the doorstep of resear...

In my academic years, I often found myself in heated discussions with colleagues about the paradoxical nature of scientific pursuit. We would marvel at how some of our peers, despite their rigorous training in science, held onto deeply irrational biases—especially against women and marginalized groups. “ What’s the point of doing science if you can’t rise above prejudice? ” we would ask. But the reality is that science and scientific training do not exist in a vacuum. It is shaped by the social and political biases of its time, and scientists, no matter how brilliant, are not immune to these influences. This realization hit me hardest when I learned about Kamala Sohonie’s encounter with the legendary C.V. Raman.   During my PhD, I used Raman spectroscopy as the primary tool to study phase transitions in condensed matter systems. My thesis introduction paid homage to his groundbreaking ideas and his legacy as an experimentalist. So, it was both shocking and ...