When N-scientists go ballistic

(This is reporduced from The Deccan Herald)

The Deccan Herald

July 21, 2015

When N-scientists go ballistic

I knew fisticuffs among nuclear scientists were very rare, but ego clashes were aplenty!

Recently, we were shocked when an Indian co-pilot slapped his boss after some minor skirmish. From the experience of the last 50 years that I spent in the nuclear establishment, I knew fisticuffs among nuclear scientists were extremely rare; but ego clashes were aplenty! 

When trainee officers met for the first time they sized each other up. “I am Mr Rao, Andhra University, electronics specialist, first class, first rank”; “Mr Khanna, University of Punjab, nuclear physicist, first class, first rank”, and so on (these are assumed names!). Those with no rank felt mildly upset.

I remember a skirmish which occurred when an irate officer slapped another. The former fell down when the latter pulled back the chair in which he was about to sit. Later, the victim served the country producing radioisotopes for every application. His tormentor too reached the pinnacle of his career. Many of the former’s friends felt that he became a cheer leader of some fringe groups primarily due to hurt ego. 

A trainee officer from my batch had his jaw bone broken when, irritated by needless teasing, his adversary hit him hard on his face.  “Dismiss them both...” Dr Ramanna thundered, as he could not tolerate indiscipline. Since he relented later, the country did not lose a safety engineer. The victim lived on liquid diet for two months. Years later, he migrated to greener pastures.

Some ego-centric scientists worked 24x7 and extracted work from others 24x7. A sufferer sent a letter addressed to one such boss as “Dead” instead of Head, Radiochemistry Division, without any diabolical thought!   

Dr Homi Sethna, the “promoter” of nuclear technology had vociferous arguments with Dr A K Ganguly (Former Director, Chemical Group, BARC), the “regulator”. AKG never yielded on matters of safety. Finally, though he made fun of the “safety factors” proposed by AKG as “fudge factors”, Sethna would concede ground over a cup of tea! Ego never came in their way.

In December 1988, the Karnataka government held a national workshop on nuclear power projects in Bangalore. Speakers included scientists, economists, professors, anti-nuclear activists and journalists. Speakers from the Department of Atomic Energy found it harder to cope with the heckling! Dr M R Srinivasan, then Chairman, Atomic Energy Commission assuaged the hurt egos and competently defended nuclear power.
In 2014, on the sidelines of the National Technology Day celebrations at BARC, young scientists responded confidently to the queries of Prof CNR Rao, They were not overawed by India’s most dedicated chemist. India’s future was safe with them. They were yet to develop giant egos.
  
When men with giant egos clash, those with fluent language skills and eloquent expressions exchange multi- page letters marked “secret” on matters neither related to the amount of fissile material used in atomic bombs nor the time constant of their electronic triggers when they tested them, but on more mundane matters, which even their less experienced drivers knew!

However, it is heartwarming to see yesterday’s arch rivals cast away their egos occasionally, sit across the table and draft joint statements to save the nation from what they perceive as an impending doom!

Onam offering

THE DECCAN HERALD
August 28, 2004

Onam offering

The alleged serpent in the bushes was more like a symbol for their deception

BY K S PARTHASARATHY


On the eve of Onam, my wife and I reached Arpookara, my home town, a scenic village in god’s own country. Fifty years ago, we had celebrated Onam differently. Then Mahabali the legendary king had visited Kerala only on Thiruvonam. He had not worked as a model to recommend the cell phone to any one. May be because then there was no television.


We competed with our neighbours to make attractive flower arrangements in front of our homes. We could pluck flowers from anywhere. Onam brought to my memory the story of the ‘hissing cobra’. Once, my cousin and I went searching for ‘manglavi poovu’. These yellow flowers add lustre to any flower arrangement. I discovered a big collection. Surprisingly, they remained untouched, because Chellamma and Chathu, the unofficial caretakers of the field, guarded them. Besides, they also kept thieves away from tapioca, banana, jackfruit, coconut etc. Occasionally, they helped themselves; but their landlord generously ignored it.


As we reached for the flowers, Chellamma warned us that there were cobras under the bush. She had heard their hissing sound. We were scared. But the flowers were too tempting for us.


We rained stones over the bushes for some time. Chellamma fumed and fretted. She told us that a cobra had bitten an old woman. Her leg was swollen. It had turned blue and had bloated like an elephant’s leg. They had carried her in vain on a bamboo stretcher to the dispensary in the next village.


We ignored the horror story, though the lurid description of the lifeless victim troubled our mind. We went closer to the bush to have a better look. My cousin heard a hissing sound and started running. I am not now, nor was I then, very brave. But I went forward. I saw some huge shining black earthen pots; some milky fluid bubbled over their mouths; the bubbles broke and made a hissing sound. There were no cobras.


Chellamma and Chathu had made illicit liquor and stored it under the canopy of the mini- forest. They sold liquor secretly and had made plenty of money, as the nearest liquor shop was miles away. Relatively speaking, I was not afraid of cobras; but was terribly scared of Chathu. He had bloodshot eyes and a coir-like moustache, which probably filtered the dirt away from the liquor he drank. He always carried a toddy tapper’s knife specially shaped to cut the pods of tender coconut flowers. If Chellamma reported that we had discovered their liquor store, the consequences that would follow were unthinkable.


I could not believe that they had many customers in that decent village. Recently, our maidservant told my wife about the intriguing escapades of the village elders. Chathu is no more. Chellamma was away with her grand daughter. I could not remind her about the story of the hissing cobra.

Disciplinarian to the core

THE TRIBUNE
October 2, 2004

Disciplinarian to the core
by K.S. Parthasarathy


We joined the Atomic Energy Training School, Trombay on August 14, 1964.We would like to forget the first few days in Bandra where our hostel was located. BEST workers went on strike. We had to walk from Bandra railway station to Band Stand. I wore ill-fitting rubber shoes, which tore away a few inches of my skin. I felt miserable. The muddy, salty, puddle irritated my inflamed skin; the wind from the beach bearing the smell of decaying fish blew right across my face. I was homesick. Others had the same plight.

During the first week, we had one of the most memorable and comforting experiences. Dr Raja Ramanna visited us. He always wore his hallmark khaki pant and white shirt. He was a very simple person. We could approach him any time. Very often, he came to the hostel. As the then Director, Physics Group, the training school was his turf; he always defended its cause.

At the informal meetings he listened to us carefully and spoke quietly. He spiced his talk with funny anecdotes. When he spoke, each one of us felt that he was talking to us individually. His reassuring demeanour gave us confidence.

An unforgettable incident revealed an altogether different facet of his character. The smiling teacher transformed into a steely, taciturn and stubborn disciplinarian.
Two trainees from our batch had a fight. One of them was weak but intemperate; the other one was strong, arrogant and short-tempered! They fought on some trivial issue. The weak fellow was playing table tennis when the strong man entered the sports-room. After waiting for some time, he requested him to give him a chance. “You don’t have to play any games, you are already strong”, the weak fellow told him. Needless teasing developed into fisticuffs.

The weak man got seriously hurt. Friends intervened. Both the victor and the vanquished exchanged apologies. We thought that they settled the issue. We realised that it has become too serious as the victim needed urgent medical help. He went to the dispensary. Our doctor promptly and dutifully reported the matter to Dr Ramanna.
We expected that there will be some sort of inquiry. Dr Ramanna thought differently. He could not tolerate indiscipline. He did not want to apportion the blame.

“Irresponsible”, “They are going to be gazetted officers in a few months”… “Dismiss them both”... He thundered. The victim could not go to his home town during the vacation. He lived on liquid diet. Dr Ramanna changed his stand only after several trainees appealed for mercy. In the end, Dr Ramanna, the disciplinarian showed some compassion and saved the careers of a scientist and an engineer.

— Dr K.S. Parthasarathy is DAE/BRNS Senior Scientist and formerly Secretary, Atomic

THE MAN BEHIND THE BOMB

THE TRIBUNE
December 9, 2004

The man behind the bomb
by K.S.Parthasarathy

DURING May 1990, I attended the College on Atmospheric Boundary Layer Physics at the erstwhile International Centre for Theoretical Physics at Trieste, Italy. There I met Professor Abdus Salam, the Nobel Laureate and the then Director of the Centre.

On May 25, I sought an interview with him. “Professor does not meet with visitors these days”, his secretary asserted in a protective tone. I requested her to talk to Professor Salam about me.

Within minutes, she came out and took me in. “Just five minutes, not a second more”, she cautioned me on the way to his spacious room. Professor Salam got up from his seat with great difficulty and held me tightly in a “Punjabi” style hug. He was suffering from Parkinson’s disease.

I felt embarrassed that I could not respond promptly to his endearments, expressed in a mixture of Hindi and probably Urdu. He realised my predicament! “Oh, you are from the South!” he exclaimed. “I understand Hindi and can speak in Hindi”, I protested mildly.

He was very friendly. He was deeply concerned with nuclear proliferation in the subcontinent. He wished to persuade Pakistan to abandon its nuclear ambitions. He recalled his discussions on this topic with Dr Vikram Sarabhai. Dr Salam then had no doubt about Pakistan’s nuclear potential.

This is contrary to Mr K.Subramanyam’s inference based on a casual talk he had with Professor Salam in August 1985. Apparently, Salam then doubted the capability of A.Q. Khan to make nuclear weapons for Pakistan.

Professor Salam certainly knew of the nuclear developments in Pakistan. He did not tell me whether he had any clout with the then rulers of Pakistan. On 24 January 1972, Professor Salam attended the meeting in which Mr Z.A.Bhutto asked his scientists to commit themselves to develop nuclear weapons. Salam did not support the move.

Reportedly, he attended another meeting held in March 1974 to initiate what was declared as a work of great national importance. He was then the Adviser for Science and Technology to the Government of Pakistan. The participants concealed the weapons objective and never used the word “bomb”.

I found it extremely difficult to lead him away from any topic other than nuclear proliferation. Finally, I asked him why Italy which produced eminent nuclear scientists like Enrico Fermi, turned away from nuclear power. (In 1988, Italians through a referendum decided to abandon nuclear power). “Don’t you know?” he smiled mischievously and added, “Some Italians think that nuclear radiation may make them impotent!”. He suggested that the facts about nuclear power should be publicised to dispel such myths.

My brief courtesy call lasted 45 minutes! I could not figure out why the gave me a long interview. That I am from India might have helped. Later, his secretary told me about some of his idiosyncrasies! Most of it was gossip. Admittedly, that is not worth another middle column. ■

A trip without SARS

THE TRIBUNE
April 27, 2005

A trip without SARS
by K.S. Parthasarathy

ON February 20, 2003, when the International Atomic Energy Agency invited four of us to attend a regional seminar at Beijing, WHO had not issued its alert on Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS). Shortly, alerts on SARS from WHO and the US-Centre for Disease Control and Prevention followed. We doubted whether the seminar would take place at all.

A Pakistani delegate sent the US-CDC alert to fellow delegates. I sent extracts on SARS from the New England Journal of Medicine to all. Another Pakistani delegate queried whether we had to wear masks while landing at Beijing. Interestingly, three specialists from two “nuclear” nations feverishly exchanged notes on the vicious, lowly bug that flits past national boundaries without a passport or visa.

Of the four invitees from India, two dropped out. Vithal Nadkarni from the Times of India and I decided to attend. With an executive upgrade, Air India treated us well; we remained reassured, as more passengers joined us from Chennai.

During the three hours at Singapore, Vithal went jogging; I sat discretely away from people passing by an escalator. Very few wore masks. None had gloves. Those who had were clearing the dustbins! A naughty child pulled off his mask when his mother looked away.

During the flight to Beijing by Singapore Airlines, more masks were out. They hid the pleasing smiles of airhostesses. I looked at every passenger for telltale symptoms such as wheezing, sneezing or cough. I saw that no one emitted a cloud of nano-assassins!

The deeds of the dirty bug dominated all newspapers. Journalists relegated the stories from the “embedded men” in Iraq to the inner pages. The Prime Minister of Singapore greeted the press with folded hands (“namaste”, Indian style!) after a meeting. Shaking hands entailed known risks!

At Beijing, More masks were out. I covered my fingers with tissue paper every time I pressed the lift button. I washed my hands so often with liquid soap that my fingers ached.

While Vithal went to see the Great Wall, I relished the sumptuous lunch our Chinese hosts spread in Tenggelitala, which served traditional Mongolian cuisine. I savoured spotless fruit, drank fresh juices and ate choicest vegetables. Dance and songs by Tenggelitala Art Ensemble enchanted us. SARS virus did not dampen the zeal!

We watched China Central Television-9 every day. There was some disquieting news. More wore masks and gloves. A day before we left Beijing, we went to a nearby market to buy some mementoes.

Luckily, SARS shunned Vithal and me. Many Chinese were not so lucky. Vithal claimed that our immunity levels increased due to the mugs and mugs of green tea we drank. May be, the yoga postures of Vithal at dawn were too scary for the bug! ●

Unassuming raja

THE TRIBUNE
Friday, February 3, 2006, Chandigarh, India

Unassuming Raja
by K.S. Parthasarathy

DURING the seventies, there was only one BEST bus service connecting Dadar to Trombay where the Bhabha Atomic Research Centre (BARC) is located. It was less frequent. In the morning, if one missed BARC staff bus starting from Dadar, one had to wait a while to reach BARC.

Mr Puri (name changed) missed the bus that day. He had just joined BARC as a Scientific Assistant. He wanted to go to Trombay urgently. Taxi service was too expensive. Also, he did not have enough cash with him that day. He eagerly waited at the main junction, hoping to get a lift.

Shortly, he saw a car with the BARC name plate coming from a distance. He frantically waved his hand, virtually jumping before it. The driver ignored him. But after a few yards the vehicle stopped. A bespectacled gentleman seated behind beckoned him.
Mr Puri ran fast and got in to the front seat. He cursed BEST loudly.

BARC laboratories should have been somewhere in the city and not in far away Trombay, he grumbled. His co-passenger was busy reading some book. Puri, who was at his ebullient best, interrupted him a few times. Puri visibly annoyed the driver. He didn’t care. His co-passenger wore an amused look.

As the car approached the BARC gate, his co-passenger tapped Puri’s shoulder from behind. “Where do you want to get down”? “Is it Ok, if I drop you at the next junction”? “That is OK, gentleman” Puri responded. He had his own mannerisms.

Puri forgot the episode. He made friends with everyone. Head held high, he was over 6ft; he was an imposing figure and he knew it. He thought he was a born leader and was always in the front for every activity.

Two weeks later, the staff assembled near the Central Complex Building. It was Dr Bhabha’s birthday; the Founder’s day was the day of stock-taking for the staff.

Puri and his boisterous friends arrived well in advance. They occupied the front row. The function started on time. As the Chairman, Atomic Energy Commission (AEC) stood up to speak, Puri felt that the face was vaguely familiar; he hastily ran back to be out of sight! He suffered from the mother of all shocks.

He realised that the gentleman who gave him a lift two weeks ago, was Dr Raja Ramanna, the then Chairman of the AEC.