dailyO
Politics

Why Kalam was the sadhu of Indian science

Advertisement
Raj Chengappa
Raj ChengappaAug 03, 2015 | 17:15

Why Kalam was the sadhu of Indian science

Last week, I had called up APJ Abdul Kalam's office to inform him that I had rejoined India Today and wanted him to speak at a conclave we were planning. Kalam had sent word that he would see me this week. Alas, that was not to be. I know he would have greeted me with his impish smile and said: "What, you have changed your configuration again!"

Advertisement

As someone who had the privilege of chronicling much of his life, what struck me most about Kalam was that he always found the positive in any negative situation he faced.

Kalam was born to a Muslim family in the temple town of Rameswaram, where his father plied a passenger boat, and had to handle plenty of bigotry. At school, his teacher got angry when he sat next to a Brahmin boy and ordered him out of class. When I asked Kalam about his feelings, he remembered only the good. His eyes welled up with tears when he described how another Brahmin in the village heard about the incident and invited Kalam home for a meal and ordered his reluctant wife to serve him.

When a cyclone destroyed the boat they owned, his sister pawned her jewellery to send him to college at the Madras Institute of Technology for his diploma in engineering. His professor KAV Pandalai recalled that although there were no visible signs that Kalam would excel, "even then he showed a tremendous determination to achieve what he wanted, whatever the obstacle". Kalam coupled that with being industrious and extremely hard working. These qualities - clarity, determination, hard work and humility - would help him achieve the impossible.

Advertisement

Kalam told me he was keen on becoming a fighter pilot and was deeply disappointed when he failed to pass the Air Force interview. It was then he decided that if he couldn't fly, he would design machines that flew. He joined as a junior scientist and was transferred to the Aeronautical Development Establishment in Bangalore. He took it on himself to design a prototype of an indigenous hovercraft and among the visitors he impressed was MGK Menon. He recommended Kalam to Vikram Sarabhai, who was then putting together India's space programme.

Kalam soon became a Sarabhai favourite by successfully helping build and launch India's earliest sounding rockets. But it was Sarabhai's successor, Satish Dhawan, who recognised Kalam's ability as a team-man and integrator and made him project director of India's first satellite launch vehicle, SLV3. It rankled many of his colleagues who held foreign doctorates that a diploma holder in engineering was leading them. They did their best to give Kalam an inferiority complex. But the young Kalam wasn't easily put down.

Kalam told me he saw this period as his defining years and had the best teachers to guide him. From the dynamic Sarabhai he learnt the importance of having vision. From the no-nonsense Dhawan he fathomed how to convert vision into a mission and evolve fail-safe systems. And from the soft-spoken Brahm Prakash, the first director of the Space Centre, he learnt the art of converting the mission on hand into achievable goals. All these would make Kalam an outstanding manager of technology-a rare quality.

Advertisement

Importantly, his mentors taught Kalam how to handle failure. The first SLV3 flight in 1979 tumbled into the Bay of Bengal. Dhawan shouldered all the blame and shielded Kalam who wanted to resign. Dhawan then taught Kalam how to ensure a rigorous quality control system. A year later, SLV3 flew successfully, making India only the sixth nation to have the ability to launch a satellite. Dhawan stepped aside and allowed Kalam to hog the limelight.

After the launch, Kalam said he felt restless and sought new challenges. Famed nuclear scientist Raja Ramanna, then scientific adviser to the Defence Minister, was looking for someone to revamp the moribund Defence Research and Development Laboratory (DRDL) and build missiles to deliver nuclear weapons. When he heard that Kalam was looking out for an assignment, he moved all the powers that be to get him to head the laboratory.

It was the first time a top space scientist was crossing the divide and doing a defence project. I asked Kalam why, when he was so focused on building vehicles of peace in the space programme, he would want to build weapons of war. Kalam answered: "I had no qualms or saw no conflict. By building such arsenal I actually ensure peace for my country. Now no nation dare attack us. I am building weapons of peace." The curious oxymoron became the title of my book on India's nuclear and missile history.

Kalam, with his hippie-hair and worn-out chappals, soon went about revamping DRDL, which was building the Agni and Prithvi missiles. He set targets, held tough reviews in which users were present, and motivated scientists to deliver in his own unique style. Kalam told me that he always came fully prepared for a meeting and followed up with whomever he had tasked with a gentle firmness. One of his colleagues, Ranga Rao, remarked: "You didn't feel he was some kind of a boss. He was a person who had already arrived." Kalam was regarded as a father figure by them. His style was never confrontational and he had vast reserves of patience. Kalam always worked towards building a consensus rather than ramming down decisions. He rarely lost his cool. If someone upset him all he would say is: Funny Guy. Or, who is that hero? And at times: Get me that famous mechanic.

With no country willing to sell missile technology to India, self-reliance became Kalam's goal and he went about indigenously developing all the critical technologies required. He worked tremendously hard. Right through his tenure at DRDL, Kalam refused to move into the director's bungalow and stayed on at the guest house, occupying just a single room. He would be awake until well past midnight, monitoring the progress of the project. (Most of my interviews with him were conducted after 1.30 am-the only time he got free).

It paid off. Kalam would be responsible for one of the most astonishing turnarounds of a scientific institution in India's history. By the mid-nineties both the Prithvi, a short-range nuclear capable ballistic missile, and Agni, a longer range nuclear missile, had been validated. In 1994, India Today called him "The Missile Man", a label that stuck. A confident Kalam then told me, "India can now be rated as a missile power that can deliver a range of missiles at any time, anywhere we want. Now no embargo can throttle us."

There was criticism that Kalam was building a personality cult and his scientific prowess was questioned. Kalam took such carping with equanimity, telling me, "I was only a partner in the missile team's success." He gave me the freedom to speak to all his directors individually with no minders present. He never asked to see my manuscript and jokingly asked, "I hope you are not going to get me into trouble." I told him: "Trust me-I will be fair." He never complained.

Kalam's success saw him being promoted to the coveted post of Scientific Adviser to the Defence Minister and Director General of the Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO). He continued his spartan lifestyle and his practice of staying in a single room in the DRDO guest house even though he was entitled to a union secretary-level bungalow in Lutyens' Delhi.

Among the tasks that Kalam was entrusted was to help develop India's nuclear arsenal along with top scientists of the Atomic Energy Commission. By then, Kalam's unmarried status had merited wisecracks about a bachelor being the driving force of India's newfound potency. I asked Kalam why he never got married and he told me with a smile, "We had a huge family, so one of us could afford not to have children. I decided to become the brahmachari!"

When IK Gujral became prime minister he admired Kalam's work and austere lifestyle and referred to him as "the sadhu of Indian science". It was Gujral's government that bestowed on Kalam the nation's highest award, the Bharat Ratna. Gujral had earlier come in for criticism from the Opposition, particularly the BJP, that he was not doing enough for India's security. He told me that by awarding Kalam he had scored on many fronts: "I was sending out a powerful message not just to my country but the world the importance India placed on its security." And he added, "This was also a message to those who don't trust Muslims. I spat on their face by giving Kalam the Bharat Ratna."

AB Vajpayee, who succeeded Gujral as prime minister, was equally impressed with him. In May 1998, within months of coming to power for the second time, Vajpayee ordered five nuclear tests and declared India as a nuclear weapons state. Kalam, who contributed to that development in no small measure, turned poetic at Pokharan when he witnessed the tests. He told me: "I rejoiced when we shook the earth and it broke under our feet. I also felt that we had broken the nuclear power domination. Now nobody could tell our nation of a billion people what to do. It is for us to decide."

In 1999, Kalam retired from the DRDO and planned to devote the rest of his life to academic pursuits. But fate willed otherwise. In 2002, the BJP-led coalition nominated him as President partly because he was a Muslim as it suited the ruling party to demonstrate its secular credentials. When I told him that many were saying that he was made the President because of his religion, he replied, "Really? To be honest I never thought of it that way at all. I have always regarded myself as an Indian."

It would be the irony of destiny, that a man who preferred to live in a single room would come to occupy the best real estate in India. He laughed when I told him he would now have to dress formally and host dinners and admitted, "It will be a new experience. But you can still achieve a whole lot of work even while having dinner."

So what was Kalam's contribution? In his seminal book Leading Minds: An Anatomy of Leadership, Howard Gardener described a visionary leader as one who "is not content to relate a current story or reactivate a story drawn from a remote or recent past. This individual actually creates a new story, one not known to most individuals before, and achieves at least a measure of success in conveying this story effectively to others".

I believe that Abdul Kalam was one such leader. His life itself was an extraordinary narrative. A humble boat owner's son who overcame penury and discrimination to first rise to the top of scientific hierarchy and contribute substantially to making India a space, missile and nuclear power. He was then nominated to the nation's highest office where he earned the sobriquet of being the 'People's President' with his humility and accessibility. All this made Avul Pakir Jainulabdeen Abdul Kalam a true Indian icon.

Last updated: August 03, 2015 | 17:15
IN THIS STORY
Please log in
I agree with DailyO's privacy policy