From Oxford to Outreach: One Scientist’s Journey to Democratise Science in India
By Arunima Rajan
From the halls of Oxford to the chaotic streets of India, Sarah Hyder Iqbal’s journey is one of making science accessible to people. In this conversation with Arunima Rajan, she speaks about her journey of leaving the lab to make science speak the language of common man.
Sarah Hyder Iqbal chased molecules all the way to Oxford, where she earned her PhD and edited the first journal of the Oxford University Biochemical Society. She later worked on drug discovery at the Scripps Research Institute. She then pivoted to becoming the Public Engagement Officer at the Wellcome Trust DBT India Alliance marking the start of a career spent reimagining how science meets the public. Today, she leads initiatives blending science, arts, and community action to tackle health and social challenges. Thus, Iqbal is rewriting the rules of who science is for, and how it’s shared.
The shift from labs to messy human spaces has been anything but simple.
“Both settings are equally uncertain and challenging, but in very different ways,” says Iqbal.
Her work focuses on building bridges between the scientific community and society, and reimagining how she can foster a socially-engaged scientific enterprise and a scientifically informed, inclusive society.
Making Science Speak Local
This transition from lab researcher to community science champion demanded an entirely new skill set. Iqbal had to learn how to hold space for dialogue, translate dense scientific ideas into everyday language, and collaborate with artists and communities to build programmes that not only informed, but connected. Superheroes Against Superbugs (SaS) was her first real test.
For most students, science feels like an abstruse subject, seen as the domain of the ‘clever’ few or the ‘geeks’ who choose to pursue it as a career. They often grow up alienated from science in their daily lives, making the role of science communicators all the more vital.
With SaS, she tried to demystify something like antimicrobial resistance (AMR), discussed largely in technical or policy spaces. Her work was driven by the urgency of the problem and lack of any public dialogue on this.
SaS engages with school students, medicine and pharmacy students, artists, and sanitation workers. It uses tools such as comics, murals and interactive workshops to spark conversations around infections, antibiotics and everyday health. The goal is not just to simplify science but to create meaningful spaces for dialogue, where they ask what people already know, what they are curious or concerned about, and what matters to them.
“We saw AMR as a powerful opportunity to explore a complex scientific issue through the lens of communication and engagement. Unlike infectious diseases, AMR isn’t a single disease caused by a specific microbe; it’s a broader, more intricate problem tied to behaviour, systems, and invisible threats. This made it both a challenge and a compelling case for reimagining how we talk about science. For this reason, we chose to work with formats that allowed for co-creation, not just purely awareness-raising, but building the understanding together with different communities. We invited people to bring their own experiences and questions into the conversation, making the science of AMR more grounded, accessible, and relevant to their lives,” explains Iqbal.
When Stories Trump Statistics
If SaS was rooted in the here and now, Planet Divoc-91 ventured into the speculative. It was set in a sci-fi universe and co-created with young people across the UK, India, South Africa. It allowed the team to ask big questions: What kind of future would they imagine? How can they rebuild better after COVID-19 and prevent a pandemic entirely?
“The idea was to centre young voices, not as tokens but as collaborators shaping narratives and policy discussions,” adds Iqbal.
Interestingly, the project created a space for young people not just to absorb information from the experts but also ask tough questions, reflect on their own experiences and express themselves. In a time marked by isolation, this approach also offered a sense of connection, purpose and agency.
What worked well in both projects was the commitment to genuine dialogue and co-creation, not parachuting in with ready-made answers.
Disconnect between Scientific Knowledge and Public life
Even with creative formats and community participation, Iqbal found herself confronting structural barriers that shape how and whether people connect with science at all.
Most of the science communication happens in English. Many scientists, and even science communicators, have said that they struggle to discuss their own research in their mother tongue.
“When we limit science to English, we often limit who can access it, engage with it, or even imagine themselves as part of it,” says Iqbal.
The aim was to democratise not just access to science, but also people’s sense of agency in it. The process was messy, slow — and full of learnings.
Art x Science workshops at KNMA, New Delhi
Trust Before Talk
Simplifying complex ideas is part of Iqbal’s work, but that’s not all she does. Trust is an indispensable requirement. To communities that have been historically excluded or spoken at rather than with, science can feel alien.
“So before we talk about microbes or medicines, we have to ask: Who’s in the room? Who gets to ask questions? Whose questions are being answered? Who gets heard? What do we know about them?” she adds.
One of the ways she put this into practice was through the Voices for Health project. Here, she organised public dialogues on topics such as cancer in Meghalaya and environmental health in Delhi NCR. But these were not one-way lectures. Before each event, her team engaged with local communities to discover what people were concerned about and how they wanted to participate.
What Counts as Impact?
For Iqbal, impact is not measured by numbers or press coverage. It’s found in a child asking a new question, a sanitation worker feeling heard, or a young person realising their voice matters.
One such moment came during Planet Divoc-91, where young adults across India, South Africa and the UK said they felt valued and connected for the first time during the pandemic. For Iqbal, this wasn’t just an output. It was the kind of deep emotional and social shift that traditional impact reports often miss.
Belonging>Broadcasting
A play on AMR performed by a student group in New Delhi
In a place as diverse as India, visual and narrative tools help bridge gaps that text-heavy materials just cannot. A comic or a movie can cut across literacy levels, a street play can travel where the internet doesn't, and a mural can become a landmark that sparks daily dialogue. For Iqbal, turning to creative forms was not a departure from science, it was a return to what science is for: making sense of the world, together.
She continues: “When you're trying to talk about something like AMR which can feel abstract or overwhelming, I realised that numbers and warnings weren’t going to move people. But stories might. Images might.”
Together with Dr. Anil Challa, the team experimented with using art as a medium for science learning − from zebrafish to microscopes − during workshops at the Kiran Nadar Museum of Art in New Delhi using the traditional Cheriyal art form of Telangana or Patua painting of West Bengal. It encouraged participants to take ownership of their learning and understanding of science and express complex ideas in ways that felt natural and meaningful to them.
The Future: Belonging, Not Just Broadcasting
Iqbal is hopeful about the future of science communication in India. But there’s still work to be done. The field needs clearer roles, better career paths, and fairer pay to truly evolve.
Glimpses of the artwork from Kheti, Khana aur Hum public engagement project.
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