Cosmodrome – Baikonur

I had the good fortune of being part of a launch team that went to Cosmodrome for satellite readiness and launch. I went a couple of times. Several interesting things happened during the trips.

First  travel. It was always Air India -  as Government officials could only travel on Air India. Often we went to Mumbai in the evening and then would catch the mid night flight to Moscow. Later from Moscow to Baikonur we flew Aeroflot . We would reach Mumbai and would be put up in Centaur ( another GOI undertaking ). It was big, luxurious and intimidating and five star I suppose. We would shun any  help in carrying our baggage to our rooms. The reason is easy to guess – to avoid paying any tips ( we had to save from such trips you see ). To add, the waiters and others were much better  dressed and looked smarter than us. Dinner was buffet , paid by AI and generally excellent. Again  no tips please we are ISRO officials.

In Air India flights food was not a problem. If drinks were free,  hurry up. Look for any inexpensive thing to buy. Perfume , while not cheap ,  was my favourite. Whiskey etc , needed as per Structures norm , would have to wait for the return trip. In any case Vodka in Moscow was easily available and cheap.

Landing and clearances at Moscow airport would be intimidating. The large airport would be empty . You stand in a line and when your turn comes hand over the documents ( white passports ! ) to a severe looking and unsmiling official and wait. You were to look straight ahead all the time boxed inside two small but heavy gates. No smiles please - we are now in USSR. After an uncertain period of time a heavy sound of stamping ( not on passport but on a visa paper issued separately by them ) and gates would open.

At the Moscow Hotel ( no room service ; bourgeois values are not tolerated for common people  ) all passports were whisked away ( no receipts ) for ‘ verification ‘ and would be returned after two days. There was a phone in the room but no directory. So also in public booths. The logic was that if you know a person you would know his / her phone number.

We would be asked to leave all our baggage at the curb ( footpath ) near airport. It will be loaded they assured us. In a way it was good as we were not to carry it to the counter etc. All our tickets would be collected and when it was time to go we would be asked to get into a bus to take us to the plane waiting somewhere . The flight from Moscow to Baikonur by Soviet Airlines would make us feel how good Air India was. The Air hostesses would be formidable ladies and even request for water was hesitatingly made and grudgingly fulfilled.

We were accommodated in some  place near Baikonur  with no name or identification. We would be asked to remain indoors. Sometimes the guide would take us out. She would take us and show basketball court, school ( not functioning at that time ) , Town hall etc. No newspapers and no magazines. If there were any they would talk about party secretary opening something, decadent west, sacrifices made by Soviets during the Great war. TV was there in the lobby but broadcast was only in Russian. Only one that was of any interest was a channel showing domestic football ( soccer ) . Lakshmisha , a very orthodox colleague of ours ( more on him later ) , would occupy the best seat in the room  for TV and doze.

Our daily trip to Cosmodrome would begin sharply at 8 30 am ( or whatever time fixed by them ) and would take an hour or more. We would always have a vehicle in front of our bus. A couple of ‘ guides’ ( we said KGB ) would travel with us and doors would be locked throughout the journey. The scene outside was dreary with no vegetation and with no traffic and the road straight and desolated. After we arrived at the Cosmodrome hall we were to stay inside  till the end of the day. There was a break for lunch to a nearby building and we would be escorted. When outside was cold and it was snowing I shuddered at the thought of Siberia where thousands perished during Stalin’s regime. There was uncertainty, fear and a sense of doom  (  for fun, once I posted a letter written in Kannada to Usha with Bangalore address. There was nothing objectionable in it. It arrived after a month of my return )

The hall would be like ( was ) a giant hanger. Not very clean. No 10,000 or 10,000 ( particles per cubic meter or foot or something like that; lower the better is the norm  ) cleanliness. Our clean rooms in ISAC were of much higher standard .You could spot pigeons sometimes.

Then some unexpected things. Closer to  the launch, one day we went home after finishing the work. Next day the last stage of the rocket was inside the hall ! It had arrived along with other stages the previous night by rail. Long freight train. Contrast it with NASA vehicles !

At the end of the day we would board the bus for the long ride back to our hostel / home whatever. Some would doze, some chat, some joke, some would calculate how much they had saved so far , some would sing Hindi songs till we were close to the hostel. When it was a popular song such as ‘ Mera Jhuta hai japani ’ or ‘ mai Awara hoon’ our Soviet person ( s  ) including driver would join ( it was said that after  Gandhi and Nehru, Raj Kapoor was the most well known Indian in USSR ).There was a turning that we needed to take to reach our destination and that was a signal that we were 2 or 3 minutes away. Then someone would say ‘ aa gaya  ‘ and we would sing in unison ‘ sare jahan se acha hindostan hamara’ . It always brought a lump to my throat and a tear which I would wipe shyly. 
Who was sitting next to me ? An Agarwal, a Menon, a  Raman , a Rao,  a Goswamy, a Verghese ? I forgot or rather never even thought. There was no need to preach patriotism. Oneness in our work united us all.

( On Hindi : I feel Hindi zealots did it all wrong. To spread Hindi they should have stuck to two themes / modes : Bhajans and religious verses such as  of Meera or Tulsidas and second Hindi movies and songs . Everyone would have embraced Hindi – at conversational level – whole heartedly. Dr Reddy learning Hindi in ISAC as per rules sat for the exam and as luck would have it he was in the first  row . No one to look up to. There was a question about a popular tyohar ( festival ) in Karnataka and he wrote ‘ Gundu Rao ‘. How about me ? I declared myself very busy for a couple of years and later self declared that my Hindi was good enough . I had passed ‘ Madhyama’ long back )

I had the great fortune to witness one of their launches ( SEO or IRS I forget ) with our satellite. We ( some ) were standing behind a building and waited for the launch. If it had failed no one ( of us ) would have survived. A roar, an earth quake like vibration and the rocket took off. Fire and fury. Unimaginable experience. I was stuck dumb and deaf as the expression goes. The launch, the noise, spectacle of fire and the launch vehicle slowly rising from the ground and then accelerating is etched in my memory. There was beauty, power, precision, years of work, grandeur of science and technology – all in super human doses. It made one so small and at the same time one’s heart would swell with pride. True it was not our efforts but I felt an Engineer in Soviet Union would have felt like me. I could keenly feel the oneness with many Soviet Engineers, unseen ,  who would have put in such hard work, faced many failures and tasted success at last. Marvel of Engineering. We congratulated everyone around and were wild with excitement. A Soviet colleague while smilingly accepting our congratulations said that it was somewhat routine for them as launches took place regularly ( once in ten days I learnt later during the peak of cold war ).

More over it was our satellite riding inside the rocket. Hundreds of Engineers had worked on it and it had taken 3 - 4 years. It was truly our baby. It was impossible not to feel so emotional. It united us all . A common goal achieved and that success and the intense feeling of  camaraderie and excitement I would never experience again.

That also reminds me of a scene in some other Cosmodrome. A Soviet Engineer came to the launch pad to sort out some problem in one of their vehicles ( what problem ? no one would tell you ) . He was expected to return in a week or two. Problems persisted and the Engineer stayed on for the next 2 ½ years and actually died there. They have preserved his office and the things he used – paper, pen, slide rule, drawing board. What touched me was the respect they had for his skills, dedication and knowledge. Here in India Sir M Visveshawarayya is the only Engineer honoured ( Bharat Ratna ) . We have scant respect for Engineers , Technologists or medical professionals ( a small anecdote : Sir – not yet - MV went to watch Jog Falls – or Shivansamudram -  and the glorious falls was in full flow. An artist or  one like us would have exclaimed what a beauty, God is great etc . It is quite understandable. MV exclaimed ‘ what a waste ’ ) .

People talking lightly of progress made in science or technology make me really sad and angry. Every child should learn science to some level at least and have healthy respect for the giant strides that are taking place. It is difficult to find people to share the wonders of science or Technology – Physics, Biology, Medicine, Genetics, Aerospace, Communication . Discussion is out of question. Daily miracles in our  lives pass by. Instead we talk of levitation at some Sadhu’s place , some pillar at Lepakshi hanging from the top, Ajantha caves carved by aliens , how Tulsidas has correctly estimated the distance of earth from sun , Nostradamus predictions, Bermuda Triangle, quantum healing and non local interactions , how our ancients knew God particle and theory of relativity… We are all well educated men and women. It is an insult to common sense. And we worship Saraswati.