Reminiscences of a legend: Udupi Ramachandra Rao

By K Radhakrishnan

"Rad, I won’t be able to write. You do it,” murmured the professor, not with the usual firmness one was accustomed to hearing; UR Rao’s voice appeared frail. We shook hands and parted. This happened a few weeks back at his office in Antariksh Bhavan, the headquarters of the Indian Space Research Organisation in Bengaluru. He was pretty clear about the state of his health, yet his remnant wish was seeing ISRO in the best position it could possibly achieve. That was my last meeting with the visionary and the talisman of the Indian space programme. I was privy to a sort of parental warmth and affection from him, ever since I came into his fold in 1984. He had a defining influence in my professional journey.

Three decades since then, I joined his club of old birds of ISRO and we frequently flocked together over topics ranging from societal welfare to the future of space exploration. Now, it pains me to realise that it would be a thing of the past. Every time I saw Rao, I would recall: “Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will”, as immortalised by Mahatma Gandhi. Truly, Rao practised it and prescribed it for his protégés for decades.

A bright student from one of the remotest villages of Karnataka, Udupi Ramachandra Rao was enrolled by Vikram Sarabhai into the Physical Research Laboratory, Ahmedabad, in the mid-1950s. Rao stood out among all his peers and continued to do so till the end came. While in his early 30s itself, Rao made a mark, internationally, as a brilliant scientist for satellite-based investigations of cosmic rays and solar physics, while teaching at MIT, US. Back home, it was history in the making, as the Indian space programme was taking baby steps. On his return, Sarabhai cajoled him to take charge of developing Indian satellites for scientific investigations. He only had a naive yet enthusiastic team of engineers and meagre infrastructure at Thumba, a suburb in Thiruvananthapuram.

Rao & India’s Space Journey
The national directive to venture into Aryabhata satellite (launched by the Soviets in 1975) was a turning point in India’s space odyssey. An aggressive project director, Rao started from scratch and delivered the Aryabhata satellite in an unbelievable timeline of three years from one of the industrial sheds at Peenya in Bengaluru. Then came the institutional edifice — ISRO Satellite Centre (1976) of which he was the founder director. And then there was no looking back. Undoubtedly, Rao is the father of India’s progress in satellite technology. He coaxed his teams to do better than the best. He demanded and commanded the development of the imaging camera for IRS-1C which had a spatial resolution of 5 metres (launched in 1995), at a time when the world’s best had only 10 metres. IRS-1C was indeed lauded as the world’s best civilian remote sensing satellite at that time. And then the bouquet of 99 spacecraft for communication, meteorology, remote sensing, navigation, astronomy, lunar and planetary exploration rolled out of ISRO Satellite Centre, testifying to the foresight of this visionary.

Rao didn’t have a great opening as the chief of ISRO. Back-to-back failures of ASLV (in 1987 and 1988) were exhausting and he led ISRO from the front for a success by 1992. After a decade of arduous efforts, PSLV was brought to the launch pad in 1993. The outcome was another heartbreaking failure, the only one PSLV ever had in its history of 40 flights. Once again Rao took the brunt and paved the path to recovery, well before he left the hot seat at Antariksh Bhavan. The technology denial for a ‘cryogenic engine and stage’ came like a bolt from the blue when development of GSLV was just taking off. Only a leader of his class could declare to the nation and the world that India can and will do it on its own. Finally, we accomplished it and flew our GSLV with our own cryogenic engine in January 2014; and the saga continued.

As chairman of ISRO, Rao had a defining role to spread the wings of our space application programme as national missions. And today we see the direct and indirect benefits of space technology touching the lives of millions in this country. This has led to international acclaim for India as a role model for space applications. In fact, he had a tall stature in the international comity of space-faring nations for nearly two decades, as a torch bearer for space applications and a beacon for developing countries.

Post retirement in 1994, Rao continued his pursuits in science and technology and went even beyond. Still, space science was close to his heart. He almost went back to his Aryabhata spirits while organising the 39th annual Congregation of the International Committee on Space Research (COSPAR) at Mysuru in July 2012 that attracted 1,800 space scientists from 70 countries.

His imprints are indelible on India’s Mars Orbiter Mission and the forthcoming Chandrayaan-2 with the Indian lander-rover. His most recent passion had been to shape Aditya-L1 mission as the first of its kind for a solar research mission. He once commented to me: “Wish I was younger by 10 years to see this mission through.”

Beyond his hardcore scientific and academic persona, Rao was admired by all for the golden heart that he had. Everyone in ISRO probably has a story to tell. The overflow of teary-eyed admirers who gathered to bid him the final farewell underlines the impact he had on all.

On a personal note, I had been fortunate enough to have worked with him from very close quarters during the troubled times when he went through the failures of ASLV and their aftermath. The learning that I got then prepared me to face two consecutive failures of GSLV in the first year of my leadership of ISRO.

UR Rao leaves behind a legacy in space technology and more importantly in scientific temperament to imbibe and adapt. His story will continue to inspire generations to come.

(K Radhakrishnan is a former chairperson of ISRO)