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.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
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
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. ■
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! ●
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.
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.
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