Remembering Raja Ramanna: The Unsung Man Who Put India on the Nuclear Power Map, History & Classics : Today Indya

Remembering Raja Ramanna: The Unsung Man Who Put India on the Nuclear Power Map

History & Classics

thebetterindia

A visionary scientist, pianist, author and Sanskrit scholar, this multi-disciplinary genius is why India today holds the status of a ‘developed nation’ in nuclear power. #BirthAnniversary #ThisDayInHistory #ForgottenHeroes

Remembering Raja Ramanna: The Unsung Man Who Put India on the Nuclear Power Map

41years ago, Indian physicist, Raja Ramanna, was invited to stay in Iraq, as a prized guest of Saddam Hussein. As expected, such an invite sent by the Iraqi dictator to a nuclear physicist, was not all that cordial and had a hidden agenda.

Surprisingly, this was just four years after Dr Ramanna conducted India’s first nuclear test in Pokhran.

A 1974 event that shook the world out of its slumber as India renounced its status as a ‘Third world country’ to move towards becoming a ‘developed nation’, also affected Saddam.

Angry and desperate, Saddam wanted Dr Ramanna to stay back and lead the country’s nuclear programme to create an Iraqi nuclear bomb.

He was even taken on a tour to Baghdad and Iraq’s main nuclear facility at Tuwaitha, and at the end of the trip, an offer was made by Saddam.

“You have done enough for your country. Don’t go back. Stay here and take over our nuclear programme. I will pay you whatever you want,” was the statement Saddam made, as reported in a book, Saddam’s Bomb, by British journalists Shyam Bhatia and Daniel McGrory.

Perplexed, scared and afflicted by a sleepless night, the 53-year-old (then) wasn’t sure if he might ever see India again, and at the next opportunity, booked a flight and fled.

Although a sensitive topic of discussion for the late scientist, this incident, after so many years, stands out as an interesting one reflecting India’s advancement as a prominent nuclear power, all thanks to Dr Ramanna.

Hence, on his 94th birth anniversary, it is important to remember him as the visionary scientist who is the reason behind India’s promising strides in nuclear science.

A multifaceted talent

Born on January 28, 1925, in Tumkur, Karnataka, Dr Ramanna was a protégé of Dr Homi Bhabha, the founding father of the Indian nuclear programme.

His acquaintance with Dr Bhabha also had a musical beginning, when they were set up to meet in 1944 by a mutual friend, based on their shared passion for music, especially Mozart.

That meeting eventually brought the two closer, as five years later, Dr Ramanna landed a job at the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research (TIFR), the centre of India’s atomic energy programme. Under Dr Bhabha’s guidance, he went on the lead the first underground nuclear test on May 18, 1974 at Pokhran, Rajasthan.

But being an internationally renowned scientist was not all, he was an administrator and a teacher as well. A perfect example of a man reflecting the blend of science, technology and arts, he was also a scholar with a penchant for Sanskrit literature, and an accomplished pianist, with several concerts to his credit.

Interestingly, he was also a licentiate pianist of the Royal School of Music, London.

His deep interest in philosophy was said to have given him a holistic understanding of science.

In an interview, he had reportedly said, “The Greek understanding of an atom was more from a philosophical point of view; but the current idea of dividing until we come to an ultimate indivisible unit, is very clearly explained in Visheshika theory. Thus, the idea of an atom has been hovering in people’s mind for a very long time more deeply in India than anywhere else.”

This was not all.

He was also an author, the first and only former chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC), to have penned an autobiography, Years of Pilgrimage: An Autobiography.

Later, he wrote a book on music as well, The Structure of Music in Raga and Western Systems, in 1993.

The story behind the ‘Smiling Buddha’

On May 18, 1974, Dr Ramanna played a crucial role in making India’s first underground nuclear bomb explosion a reality.

Despite the criticism it garnered, the nuclear test did not hurt anyone, nor did it intend to. The only idea was to send out a strong message to the world. It was hence called the “Peaceful Nuclear Explosion” with an interesting code name: The Smiling Buddha; as it took place on Buddha Jayanti!

But, at the initial stages, it was a top-secret project, as Dr R Chidambaram, former chairman of the AEC recollected.

In an interview published by the DAE in 1998, Chidambaram said that to maintain secrecy the first step was not to put anything in writing.

The next was to work on the project on a part-time basis.

According to him, Dr Ramanna had begun thinking about developing a nuclear explosion even before the death of Dr Bhabha in 1966.

“Once the clearance (for conducting the test) had been obtained by Dr Ramanna, the crucial thing was to move the plutonium. That was moved with the help of a military convoy – in an unannounced box – and the people in the convoy were wondering why Roy and I were always keeping close to the box. I remember the excitement when we safely reached Pokhran with the consignment. Incidentally, when we lowered the device, there was a dust storm that worried us. But in the event, it helped us. For no spy satellite picked it up,” Chidambaram recollected.

The erudite scientist won several awards, including the three of the four most prominent Indian civilian awards–Padma Bhushan, Padma Shri and Padma Vibhushan.

Even after his death 15 years ago on September 24, 2004, his contributions to the field of science, technology as well as defence, continue to drive India towards a developed tomorrow!

Article Original Source : https://www.thebetterindia.com/170791/india-nuclear-power-capabilities-raja...

#remembering raja ramanna

#unsung man india

#nuclear power map

Who Is to Blame for Partition? Above All, Imperial Britain

History & Classics

nytimes

LONDON — Seventy years ago this week, India and Pakistan became independent from the British Empire. The celebrations were cut short as the partition on religious lines ripped the subcontinent apart. Partition changed millions of lives, and the shape of the world, forever.

No one knows exactly how many were beaten, mutilated, tortured or raped in communal violence between Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims. The death toll has been estimated at 200,000 to two million. Between 10 million and 20 million people were displaced.

Who was to blame? Many in India, Pakistan, Bangladesh (which was East Pakistan until 1971) and Britain have asked that question. There are plenty of candidates. Among the principal players, almost everyone in this story made a decision or misjudgment that contributed to the eventual disaster.

Lord Mountbatten, the last viceroy, was told by the British prime minister, Clement Attlee, in March 1947 to negotiate an exit deal with Indian leaders by October; if he could not, Britain would leave India with no deal by June 1948. The decision to speed this up and leave on Aug. 15 was Lord Mountbatten’s. The decision to grant this power to Lord Mountbatten, a naval officer nicknamed the “master of disaster” in the admiralty for his propensity to damage warships by precipitate action, was Mr. Attlee’s.

Neither Jawaharlal Nehru, the incoming prime minister of India, nor Muhammad Ali Jinnah, the first governor-general of Pakistan, foresaw the scale of the coming violence. Mr. Nehru had told a journalist in 1946 that “when the British go, there will be no more communal trouble in India.” Mr. Jinnah had pushed for the partition to create Pakistan, a homeland for Muslims, who would otherwise be a minority in a Hindu-dominated superstate. He was backed by British imperialists, notably Winston Churchill, who believed Pakistan would prove a faithful friend to the West and a bulwark between the Soviet Union and a socialist India.

In 1946, a British Cabinet Mission appointed by Mr. Attlee to negotiate the transfer of power had proposed a 10-year federation in India. This would have given the new Indian authorities a decade’s experience of governing before any partition and was probably the last real chance of avoiding it altogether. The plan was accepted by Mr. Jinnah but was wrecked by the revered Mahatma Gandhi.

Beyond the leaders, every ordinary person who picked up a weapon and used it against his neighbor bore responsibility for his own action. For every rape, there was a rapist; for every murder, there was a murderer.

Yet this catastrophe was caused not only by individuals, great or small, but also by the system that was failing around them: an unpopular and chaotic British Empire. Rived by political violence for its entire existence, the empire had long resisted democratization and had institutionalized differences based on identity between its subjects as a matter of policy.

The British presence in India was run by the East India Company from 1600 to 1858 and was subject directly to the British crown from 1858 until 1947 (the British Raj). British rule always faced fierce resistance. This was visible not only in its many wars and the major rebellion of 1857-8, but also in countless acts of revolt, sabotage and assassination. The British and their client princes frequently quelled dissent and imposed their will by force. Through Gandhi, India developed a tradition of political nonviolence — but the British authorities responded even to that with brutality and repression.

In the 20th century, there were efforts to reform imperial rule and introduce elements of democracy. Mr. Attlee was a member of a commission that reported on constitutional reform in 1930.

“Halifax, who was viceroy, believed that there was a good chance that we might have got it accepted and had an all-Indian government but for Churchill and his die-hards,” Mr. Attlee recalled. “That is one of the things one has to chalk down against the old boy.”

British politicians on all sides knew the imperial system was not working, but disagreed about what to change and how. While they argued among themselves, the situation became more fraught and more divided. Indian leaders like Mr. Nehru, who was repeatedly imprisoned for his political activities, learned to view any British initiative, however well intended, with suspicion.

The idea of Pakistan was first proposed by Indian Muslim students at Cambridge University as recently as 1930. Had India been granted home rule earlier, the question of partition might never have arisen.

“Strict supervision and play them off one against the other,” says a character in an 1888 Rudyard Kipling story, “The Education of Otis Yeere.”. “That,” he explains, “is the secret of our government.”

Divide and rule was a deliberate strategy. Though the caste system had its roots in thousands of years of Indian history, it was codified as never before by the British. Throughout the 19th century and into the 20th, the British authorities partitioned Indians into categories, including “martial races” and “criminal tribes.” From the 1870s, a census attempted to record every Indian subject’s caste, religion and language.

This information had consequences. It defined, for instance, whether particular groups would be allowed to join prestigious army regiments. When the British introduced a Legislative Assembly in India after World War I, specific seats were reserved for Europeans, Sikhs, Muslims, Christians, “depressed classes,” landholders, merchants and so on. Belonging to one group or another was crucial to an individual’s destiny. Identity politics were not merely endorsed; they were mandated.

By the time Lord Mountbatten was sent to India in March 1947, it was too late to undo these legacies of British rule. Communal division, mistrust of authority and violence were already mingling and combusting. In the week of Lord Mountbatten’s arrival alone, there was a police mutiny in Patna; at least 70 dead and 1,000 injured in riots and bomb blasts in Calcutta; 160 people killed in rioting in Amritsar; 14 policemen injured in riots in Mardan; and daily stabbings and brickbattings in Delhi that left at least two dead and dozens injured. That was not an unusual week.

Lord Mountbatten did not have the men or means at his disposal to restore order. The government in London, dealing with severe domestic hardship after World War II, had no intention of sending more troops or resources to India. Indian leaders and ordinary people on all sides resisted Lord Mountbatten’s initiative to set up a peacekeeping Boundary Force to combat communal violence, viewing it as an extension of imperialism. What remained of British authority had lost both control and trust. All the last viceroy could hope to achieve — by hastening the end of imperial rule — was to save face for the empire. The fact that this was his priority was reflected in his decision to delay announcement of the new borders between India and Pakistan until the day after independence, Aug. 16.

“It had been obvious all along,” Lord Mountbatten reported, “that the later we postponed publication, the less would the inevitable odium react upon the British.”

Lord Mountbatten’s high-speed exit thus enabled a myth of “après nous, le déluge”: the notion that Britain’s rule of India was relatively functional and things fell apart only once the British left. But the blame for a disaster of this magnitude does not come down to a single man. While everyone involved bears some responsibility, they were all acting in a context of decades, even centuries, of chaotic, violent, unresponsive and willfully divisive rule. The truth is that the way the Raj ended was not so very different from the way it had existed.

Article Original Source : https://www.nytimes.com/2017/08/18/opinion/india-pakistan-partition-imperia...