It rises as insidiously as interrupting a point you are making in the lab by casually placing a hand on your shoulder and asking you to fetch tea. When you object, he will say: "what is there to be upset about, I will get you tea instead." And so not only are you reminded of your place as a woman in the lab, but of the fact that you are, as a gender, "oversensitive".

The incident, retold by one of India's foremost women scientists, a senior Shanti Swarup Bhatnagar (SSB) prize winner, makes her emotional as she recounts her years of being discounted as a 'goongi gudiya', a dumb doll-a token woman statistic to rebalance the gender skew. She requests anonymity, as women look up to her and she would not want to disillusion young women with ambitions in science. "There is no Indian woman scientist who does not face it. But unlike men, women don't have a critical mass of scientists. So the backlash is vindictive," she says. The debate on sexism in science hits closer home than we care to acknowledge.

In early June, British biochemist and Nobel laureate Tim Hunt went to South Korea, where he infamously told the assembled World Conference of Science Journalists in Seoul, "Let me tell you about my trouble with girls... three things happen when they are in the lab... You fall in love with them, they fall in love with you and when you criticise them, they cry," adding that he was in favour of single-sex labs. On March 29, Hunt had visited Gulmarg, in Jammu and Kashmir, to attend a 'Young Investigators' Meeting'.

Along with Hunt, Michael Eisen, professor of genetics, genomics and development at University of California, Berkeley, was an external investigator brought in to advise young scientists. At the end of that day, says Eisen, was a session in which several young women recounted the challenges of being a woman in Indian science. "The stories they told were horrible, and it was clear from the reaction of women in the room that these were not isolated incidents," Eisen later blogged.

K. Vijayraghavan, secretary, Department of Biotechnology (DBT), was also present and knows both, Hunt and Eisen, well. The issue is not just that there is a gap between Hunt's statements and his otherwise deceptive decent behaviour, says Vijayraghavan. "We must not amplify the level of fear but use these instances to acknowledge our mistakes," he says. "The problem is in the West society is so sophisticated that they do not acknowledge the iceberg beneath. Our advantage in being an openly discriminatory society is the ability to learn from and correct our mistakes."

Even as women scientists globally took to Twitter in the aftermath to create the #distractinglysexy hashtag, and eight Nobel laureates lent support to Hunt, who was dismissed from his position at the University College London, the challenges of the Indian scenario have remained prominently uncommented upon.

Where the pipe leaks

Every woman scientist knows that a rise in enrolment figures, while a great social indicator, is a whole other thing from space made for the gender.

The National Committee on Women's Education put out its first concerns on women in the field in Durgabai Deshmukh's report in 1959. The Five Year Plans then took on women from the development angle. Private studies-by Rajendra Prasad Jaiswal in 1993; Carol Mukhopadhyay and Susan Seymour, 1994; P. Duraisamy and Malathy Duraisamy, 1998-have pointed to discrimination against women in science. In 2013, the national Science, Technology and Innovation Policy (STIP) first stipulated gender parity as a stated goal. Going by sheer statistics, women's enrolment in science is not negligible (see box). A study commissioned by the Indian National Science Academy (INSA) in 2004 found that women constitute more than one-third of total science degree holders but comprised only 15-20 per cent of tenured faculty.

The follow-up IAS-INSA report in 2010 points to an 11-per cent attrition of women from professional science. "Even though one of every four scientists in India is a woman the largest pool of them remain at the lower rungs of Science," it notes.

In early 2015, in the journal Transcience, Sujatha Venkatesh of Humboldt University of Berlin, put out Forms of Social Asymmetry and Cultural Bias. She classified bias against women in Indian science into hierarchical segregation, or "the leaky pipe" or the dropping out of women as seniority grows; and horizontal segregation, or the absence of women in specific fields. Her study also notes a historical rise in enrolment of women in graduate programmes in pure sciences, from 7.1 per cent in 1950-51 to 40 per cent in 2009. The number in master's courses is 43 per cent and in PhDs 37 per cent. Women in science degrees tripled from 1950-51 to 1980-81.

But this does not translate into professional functions. For instance, in 62 institutes of national importance currently, including the IITs, there are only two women directors: S.K. Pandey at NIT-Puducherry, and Rajiv Gandhi National Institute of Youth Development's Dr Latha Pillai. All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS) has been headed by just one woman so far-Dr Sneh Bhargava in 1984.

Several women scientists also ask why India has had only 15 women awardees of the SSB prize. Of these, Asima Chatterjee (1961 awardee) and Archana Sharma (1975) are no more. Only one has held a position at the level of institution director-Dr Vijayalakshmi Ravindranath, 1996 awardee, who was director of the National Brain Research Centre in Manesar, for 10 years, and is currently chairperson, Centre for Neuroscience, Indian Institute of Science (IISc), Bengaluru.

T. Ramasami, the now-retired architect of the government's unique KIRAN scheme (formerly the Women Scientist Scheme) to nurture postdoctoral women through a career break and special needs such as childcare, says: "Even if all measures are implemented, gender parity in numbers would need at least 25-30 years, purely on account of gestational time needed, for self-correction of the imbalance."

The nature of bias

Inherent to the nature of science itself is a spirit contradictory to what tradition dictates be the nature of Indian woman. Aruna Dhathathreyan, Raman Research Fellowship awardee and a biophysical chemist at the Central Leather Research Institute (CLRI), writes in Lilavati's Daughters, a 2014 anthology of woman scientists edited by Ram Ramaswamy and Rohini Godbole: "A woman is expected to be docile and not ask too many questions. Even where women are allowed to study and work, some roles are still assigned to women by men. This often acts as a deterrent."

Dhathathreyan attributes her survival in science to her husband, also a chemist, sharing in child-rearing. "I realise the first few years in the career of a scientist are important. Due to the traditional role of childrearing expected of women, they often get left behind. This freedom to explore helped me mature as a scientist," she notes.

Venkatesh breaks down the bias against women into specific factors: the predominance of men in decision-making committees, male-centric environments that prioritise individualistic achievements over institutional work; male scientists in internationally visible activities as opposed to women who focus on 'invisible' academic teaching and supervision; the significance of informal networks and cliques, and biased decision-making in funding allocation and promotions.

Charusita Chakravarty, chemical physicist at IIT-Delhi and SSB awardee in 2009, outlines the peer group nature of all scientific activity: "If you are not somehow able to integrate within that scientific community very effectively, you will not be able to generate ideas as effectively. You will not be able to transmit them effectively and therefore your impact will automatically be less. You will also play less of a leadership role because you are not seen to be as effective." In this manner, the "old boys' club" isolates women from a function critical to sharing knowledge and opportunity. A senior SSB awardee says, isolated, she turned to a strong network overseas to compensate. "Never join the club if you can't have dinner with a member," is her rule.

Shubha Tole, SSB awardee in 2010 and neuroscientist at Tata Institute of Fundamental Research (TIFR), recalls attending meetings where she wasn't allowed to finish her sentences. "A colleague quipped that I was in the difficult position of having well thought-out opinions, the guts to voice them, but no Y chromosome," she says. Tole also recounts being left out of panels-or being termed "pushy" or "aggressive"; traits considered virtues in a male scientist.

She speaks of soft-spoken women being given a tough time in national grant-evaluating committees, questions posed in bullying fashion, candidates not being allowed to defend properly. The trick, she says, is to not let them bully you. They are then appreciative. Tole considers herself fortunate to be in an institution with many supportive colleagues and where good science is the only criterion for promotions and access to resources.

Sujatha Ramdorai, professor of mathematics at TIFR and SSB awardee in 2004, says she's escaped the overt sexisms others deal with but notes that while the old boys' club's perks are "the usual backslapping and mutual admiration", it's impact is serious. "It is difficult for women to break into this network and influence policy relevant to women, or participate in advocacy that would help women." To be fair, there seems an improvement since her student days "but we still have a long way to go", she says. The larger parameters of the group are thus by default set by the more powerful gender. Its impact, like a Mobius strip, is that the loop remains infinite.

Add to the bias of inclusion the bias of exclusion. This plays out in the exclusion of women on panels, "because we couldn't find any", as one SSB awardee said she was told just three weeks ago. The SSB award changed her life because until she got it, she would not even be allowed to complete her presentations. She finally turned to submitting her work overseas, where she was taken seriously, leading to recognition back home.

As a result, for women, science becomes an either/or choice. Men rarely have to choose. According to the 2010 INSA-IAS report, 14.1 per cent of women in science research were never married, as against only 2.5 per cent of the men. While 46.8 per cent women worked 40-60 hours a week, 66.5 per cent men worked fewer hours. Also, only 19 per cent male scientists have wives who are scientists, while 40 per cent of the married women scientists have scientist spouses.

The tolerance for highly educated women with long working hours being low socially, it mounts pressure on women scientists to either find a spouse within the field, or quit it to start a family.

"No male Indian scientist believes that he has ever been guilty of bias," says Deepa Khushalani, who chairs the women's cell at TIFR. Much bias is social in origin-Indian men being unable to come to terms with a woman outside a tradition-defined role. With the woman's qualification socially bartered, respect takes a battering. Add male bias, and "a woman is rarely able to stand up to both, bias and family pressure," Khushalani says.

Mitali Mukerji, principal scientist at the CSIR-Institute of Genomics and Integrative Biology and SSB awardee in genomics in 2010, says her environment has largely remained sexism-free.

World over, life sciences have a larger, up to 50 per cent, gender balance. Mukerji points out that it puts more women in critical decision-making roles, and the institutes are more assimilated to concerns of women. Mukerji says, "In Science, there are personal choices you make at a critical age, of pursuing your career or having a family".

She argues, it is true that age barriers for crucial government appointments or awards are roughly the same biological age barriers for choosing to have a family. "Qualifications and age being equal between genders, it is not a level playing field. A break in career for family reasons weighs against a woman more than a man," she says.

Sexism is thus extended to women not only from within the lab environment but also from without it. Rama Govindarajan, SSB awardee in 2007 and a fluid dynamics specialist at TIFR Centre for Disciplinary Sciences, Hyderabad, believes a counter is to present role models of successful women scientists to "allay worries among parents about the compatibility of a research career and the biological clock. Sensitising families will reduce pressure on women to finish their thesis quickly, which would result in a thesis of lesser quality, with obvious consequences."

While removing social pressure is one way, others ask why a woman shouldn't be enabled to have a complete life. Ramdorai notes that in conferences overseas, childcare facilities are a given. Tole recalls a male colleague at a key Indian institute telling her that women postdoctorates "come only for breeding and child-rearing" to his lab, and that he got more work out of male postdocs. "It's a question of mentorship. I have had two postdocs who had their first babies in my lab, and both have produced really beautiful work despite inevitable downtime. It's the motivation to get the job done that counts," Tole says.

Things do get easier as one gets senior, Tole notes, partly because the willingness to put up with sexism is reducing. "Unfortunately, sexism is alive and well in younger generations, but more and more women recognise it when they face it and fewer take it quietly," she says. Women in Indian science are wary of being seen in need of a handout, or a reservation. Rather, they seek an understanding of the pressures of womanhood itself.

The male support mechanism

Several women scientists agree that despite biases, support also comes from within the male hierarchies. Venkatesh notes in her study that almost all women in Indian science credit a father for initiating their interest in science and fanning it, or a husband for supporting them through child-rearing and relocations.

For many, from Mukerji to Ramdorai to Tole, much of the support has also been institutional. Institutes such as CSIR (Council of Scientific and Industrial Research) and TIFR have women's cells, where women can reach out for childcare and the support of a work culture acclimatised to women. Tole says being a biologist, she inherits a community of women.

"TIFR is one of the few institutes with a good ratio of six women faculty in a total department of 14. We have had two woman chairpersons in our department's over 50-year-old history, but only one woman (a mathematician) was a dean, and none reached the director level" she says.

Several credit a long list of men who have actively pushed to make environments women-friendly. These range from T. Ramasami, and his predecessor, V.S. Ramamurthy, N.K. Menon to P. Balaram at IISc. Women such as Ravindranath of IISc, TIFR chairperson Shobhona Sharma, and men such as DBT Secretary K. Vijayraghavan, Shahid Jameel, CEO, Wellcome Trust-DBT India Alliance, and others such as R.A. Mashelkar, the former CSIR director, have also contributed to the rise in the status of women scientists.

When he held term, Mashelkar recalls, there were so many women in the biochemical sciences department that it was pegged the 'bi chemical' department.

Eminent scientist CNR Rao points out that even Marie Curie, with two Nobel Prizes, was not admitted to the French Academy as a fellow. "By and large, women scientists are not getting due encouragement and opportunities. There may still be some builtin prejudice (and) I am really concerned that outstanding young women are not able to be in proper academic positions."

Mashelkar says, "Women are special, and their problems, challenges and needs are special." As president of INSA and of CSIR, he says he's always felt the representation of women in science has been less than it should be but points out this is also true globally. The task before Indian science today is thus simple: to identify talent and areas in which women will surpass men.

Follow the writer on Twitter @gayatri__j

