Only a science communicator?

Death, they say, is a great leveller. I am not sure how valid this expression is, not after observing the deathly silence maintained by us o...

Death, they say, is a great leveller. I am not sure how valid this expression is, not after observing the deathly silence maintained by us on the demise of Dilip M. Salwi, the well-known science communicator, who wrote exciting fiction, plays, profiles of scientists and a series of quiz books for the young and thus made science that much more accessible and exciting.

He died on April 2, 2004 at the age of 52. Those who knew him and admired him for bravely pursuing the goal of promoting the scientific temper heard the news with a deep sense of shock. Not only because it was a personal loss which, undoubtedly, it was, but because of a question that rose in their minds: Who will provide children with exciting books on science now? This is not mere rhetoric. Salwi had written over 50 books on science before he had turned 50. He created a record when his work of science fiction, Fire on the Moon, sold more than three lakh copies. It was one that the Limca Book of Records took note of.

I have watched him grow over 30 years. We were friends and many were the occasions when we sat together and talked about our aspirations. He took his first steps into the field of science writing soon after he completed his post-graduation. He found a friendly editor in K. Ramakrishnan, who was then managing Children’s World, brought out by the Children’s Book Trust. It was almost at the same time that he was selected by the CSIR and became a member of the editorial team of Science Reporter. That marked a turning point. He sensed that he could do a great deal, since very few had specialised in science reporting. He read widely and found a role model in Arthur C. Clarke. Every field of science writing lay within his reach. He wrote informative articles for the ordinary reader, ran columns and reviewed books in major newspapers. Several of his articles appeared in prestigious magazines like Nature. His latest book, a biography of Kalpana Chawla, published by Rupa, was widely reviewed.

When we met, a few days ago at a science writers’ workshop, he told me wistfully, “There is so much to do and so little time to do it in.” I quizzed him on this and told him that he had years of productive work ahead of him. That’s when he shared his secret with me. His heart was in a pretty bad shape. I had hoped that modern science — which he was passionate about — would have a cure for him. That, alas, was not the case.

If the gods loved Dilip, the media seemed to have forgotten his existence. His death went relatively unnoticed. Perhaps, this was because he was not a film star or a cricketer. He was only a science communicator. Yet, therein lay the key to his greatness.