The Second Strike – The Personal and Professional life of nuclear scientist Anil Anand

By Anil Anand

This is an unusual autobiography of Anil Anand, an Indian Nuclear scientist who falls in love and marries Saiyud Sribyatta, his Ma Dame (My Lady). She is a doctor from Thailand, who is much older than him and after overcoming many obstacles, they settled down in Mumbai. Ma Dame sacrifices her medical career to support the budding scientist, and their travails through the various ups and downs of life are passionately portrayed in the book. Anil weaves an interesting professional life that reaches the pinnacle after designing a land-based prototype nuclear propulsion plant for the Indian nuclear submarine programme. He has worked on crucial Indian projects, including the nuclear fuel of India's ambitious DHRUVA reactor. Anil was the Project Manager/Director for the PRP (Plutonium Recycling Project), designed and built as a Bhabha Atomic Research Centre ( BARC ) project in the Department of Atomic Energy (DAE) Complex at Kalpakkam. Brief information on the program and the people associated with it are vividly described in the book. Anil has written another book titled 'Submarine Propulsion -Muscle Power to Nuclear' for greater detail on the program. It's a prelude to the "make in India" program and to develop the second strike capability by the country; thus gives an insight into the hidden hurdles. Anil has also contributed a chapter on Marine Propulsion for the recently published Encyclopedia on Nuclear energy by Elsevier publications The book was written with Sujit Sanyal, who spent 35 years in advertising and brand communication.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frontier India
• Release date: Oct 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9789391981037

Book preview

The Second Strike

A Nuclear Scientist’s Tryst with Love and Fission

Anil Anand

As Told To

Sujit Sanyal

Copyright © 2016 Anil Anand

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 9391981038

ISBN-13: 9789391981037

Published by

Frontier India Technology

No 22, 4th Floor, MK Joshi Building, Devi Chowk, Shastri Nagar,

Dombivli West, Maharashtra, India. 421202

http://frontierindia.biz

The views expressed in this book are those of the author/representatives and not at all of the publisher. The publisher is not responsible for the views of the author and authenticity of the data, in any way whatsoever. Cataloging / listing of this book for re-sale purpose can be done, only by the authorised companies.  Cataloging /listing or sale by unauthorized distributors / bookshops /booksellers etc., is strictly prohibited and will be legally prosecuted.  All disputes are subject to Thane, Maharashtra jurisdiction only.

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Foreword

prologue

France,  1965

Lahore  to  Varanasi

Amchi  Mumbai

Marriage

Life After Marriage

We, the Anands

Atomic Energy after 1974

Deonar

life at Zarlina

Back to  Deonar

Retirement and  Beyond

Microtrol

Bangkok–Mumbai - Mumbai–Bangkok

Afterword................................

Appendix

Images - personal

Images - Work

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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I really should thank the hundreds of people who helped me in my life and from whom I learnt such a lot; however, for the purpose of this book, I will restrict myself to only a few names.

First of all, I must thank the late Dr Ramanna for choosing me to lead the program—by that time I had put in more than 20 years of service with Mr S K Mehta. I thank him for guiding me in my formative years. During the last decade, there were three Directors at BARC -  Dr  R  Chidambaram, A N Prasad and A Kakodkar. I am grateful to them for giving me a free hand in running the project, and at the same time backing me anytime and anywhere I requested their intervention to sort out any ticklish problem with other partners.

Dr A P J Abdul Kalam has always been a patient listener; as was the Chief of Naval Staff, Admiral Vishnu Bhagwat—I am grateful for their confidence in me. I am indeed grateful to the late Vice Admiral M K Roy, the founder DG, ATV program and the next DG, ATV, Vice Admiral B Bhushan for patiently trying to solve the various problems and issues that we may have faced with our project. I know I have sometimes come off as a bit too harsh on them, but they have always tolerated my ways and and given me valuable guidance in all matters.

It is very rare that one can make friends at so late a stage of one’s professional career, and I have been very lucky in that regard. My dear friend, Raj Chaudhry has written so many good words for me in the Foreword, for which I thank him. I am sure he gave it a lot of thought and time.

And of course, Kalia Uncle who gave me the opportunity to be associated with Microtrol, and Vikram, who gave me a free hand to persue my innovative pursuits just like I was used to in BARC, to them I owe my greatest thanks. I thank all my colleagues, family members and friends—their names will appear in the book. I am convinced that any interaction with a human being results in a gain for both.

I must also ask for forgiveness in advance, if some dates have been either advanced or preponed. Fifty years is a long time and memory does bother me once in a while!

And finally, I must thank my wife. Without her devotion and cooperation I could never have achieved what I did. Because of her I could devote time and effort to help my family members—a blessing in  disguise, perhaps, that  we  did not  have children of our own. As the philosopher René  Descartes had said, I think, therefore I am. In my case, I can safely say, She is, therefore I am. To her I owe everything.

Foreword

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Anil Anand and I first met some thirty-three years ago. It seemed that we came together to participate in a project where our respective specialisations were to be blended—a first for our country. Today, I think differently. It was providence that did all that planning. Passage of time forged a friendship between us that is amongst my most prized possessions in life.

Working together meant that I got to know Mr Anand, the professional, rather well. But to me, a human being is the most fascinating creation of Mother Nature. I was eager to know Anil, who  came across as  a thorough  gentleman—very pleasant and likeable. He would, however, guard his personal life zealously and deflect my efforts to understand him as an individual, a family man and a social being. He came through as a shy person, often self- effacing, and avoided all intrusions beyond his shirt front. Happily, he failed and I succeeded. I believe that today, I have a reasonable grasp of the large canvas of his multi-faceted persona.

At work, he led a rather large team of nuclear specialists. I had the opportunity of interacting with all of them. They earned my respect. None of them would put up with mediocrity. So, Mr Anand had to be someone who they admired—not only for his technical excellence, but even more for his wisdom as a leader. Later, I was to agree with them. I saw over the years that Mr Anand commanded everyone’s respect. I do not recall any occasion when he showed anger or intolerance—either to his team, or to other partners  of the project. However, in dealings with seniors and superiors, he was seen as frank, forthright and sometimes even aggressive. Needless to say, all this evoked much fascination.

He was always dignified and in complete control of what he had to say or do. Polite but firm, there was a no-nonsense aura around  him. In  decision-making, he  was  democratic, soft and persuasive. That made working with him a pleasure. He easily took responsibility for big and crucial matters. If there was any turmoil in his mind, no one saw it.

At work, we often carry with us the pressures and stresses of our home lives. I personally never saw any hint of that in Mr Anand. Over the long years of being together, I did get to know when he was deeply involved in his large family’s goings-on. Today, I know that to his family, he has been, and continues to be a mentor, guide, counsellor, mediator, moderator, arbitrator and facilitator—even saviour! I also saw another unique quality in him—although deeply integrated with  his family, he remained detached at a personal level. He  maintained objectivity and  a  bi-partisan outlook—a combination rather rare!

I believe this book is more about Anil, the family man, and less about Mr A K Anand, the nuclear engineer and the chief designer of India’s first ever submarine, Arihant, equipped with a modern nuclear propulsion plant. And I am eagerly waiting to read the book to further comprehend the depth of the glorious gentleman called Mr Anil Kumar Anand.

––––––––

Rear Admiral (Retd.) R S Chaudhry

AVSM VSM (IN)

Founder Director, Submarine Design Group

Directorate of Naval Design

prologue

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Why  write  this  book,  this  personal and  professional chronology of my life?

It all began when the veil of secrecy was lifted on the launch of the Arihant, and the reactor on board went ‘critical’—I was invited to give the Founder’s Day Lecture at BARC. I also wrote  an article, ‘My Four  Decades in  BARC’ for the  Indian National Academy of Engineering. I found myself becoming more and  more  philosophical and  would  often  reminisce about  the different and unique facets of my life, about my wife and of the trips I make to Bangkok every month to spend 7–10 days with her now. During the span of the last fifty odd years, I was so busy with my professional career and taking care of my large extended family that I never could sit down quietly and contemplate on all of this.

And so I decided to go ahead with this book.

Being completely new to writing, I knew I needed a collaborator who could help me tell my story the best way possible, someone who had more experience in writing than myself—and a common friend, Vijay Sadanah, introduced Sujit Sanyal to me. We clicked off so well that it seemed we knew each other for decades now. We started working on our project at once. I invited him to come stay with me in Deonar—4 days in February, 8 days in June—and we also spent one day in the train from Mumbai to Delhi. Sujit did his own research on the matter via the internet; I also lent him a book, Atomic Energy in India—50 Years, written by C V Sundaram and released by the then Prime Minister, Shri Atal Bihari Vajpayee, during his visit to BARC in 1998. I also arranged for him to meet my family  members, friends and former colleagues in Mumbai and in Delhi—Uncle, Punam Aunty, Shampi, Aman, Shilpa, Ashok, Sweety, Pompi, Tanvi, Vijay (who we got on the smart phone), Arun Gupta, Ahmad, Dwivedi, Surender Sharma, Pillai, Lavanya, Vyas, Pradip and Shubha, Ravi and Reeva Budhiraja, Homai and James Dacosta, Neena, Sabharwal, R S Choudhry. I thank them for graciously giving him time to get a better grip on our project.

And here we finally are. It’s been a long journey, but a happy one, one that I have cherished. I, for one, can say that it has all been worth it. And I hope you, dear readers, feel the same too.  I thank Joseph Chako for approaching me to publish this book; it is all his effort. This was earlier published as 'The Second Strike' and was launched on September 14, 2014 by Director BARC.

Anil Anand, [e-mail]

Mumbai

France,  1965

That booming, dull, deafening drone, the crisp shade of blue and fluffy white all around outside a small oval complex glass  sheath, that sense of generous weightlessness as the Air France Super Caravelle twisted and turned to follow her flight plan—it was, perhaps, the most thrilling moment of my life till then. Not only was this my first flight, I was also flying to a foreign country, to France. It kept me fidgety all through. Or, maybe, it was just plain disbelief. I don’t think I could come to terms with the fact that I was actually flying to France for a 15-month scholarship sponsored by the French Government!

What a difference this was from just 18 years ago, when along with my sisters and my mother, I was pushed into a train at Lahore, heading towards Haridwar. At that time we were assured that this would only be a temporary arrangement and that everything would be back to normal soon, that we would shortly be returning to Lahore.

Lahore. Lahore was home, Lahore was our hearth, Lahore was where we belonged.We had been settled in this part of the country ever since my grandfather bought his house here post his retirement from Multan.

My grandfather worked as a Fuel Inspector for the Railways.

Fuel for the Railways in those days meant wooden dumps, usually used in  locomotive sheds and other  installations of the  Indian Railways. And to think that life works in such mysterious ways that decades later, his grandson, Anil Anand, would go on to design the uranium fuel for the nuclear reactor for the propulsion of India’s first nuclear submarine, the Arihant! As they say, life always comes a full circle.

As the Super Caravelle reached critical flying altitude, my mind kept racing through memories of days gone by—those two long, arduous miles I would have to walk both ways to attend classes at the Municipal School, at Ambala, stopping to drink water from a street tap; from there to my Rajputana Hostel at BHU, Varanasi; my first visit to Mumbai as an intern with Voltas; my days at the Training School Barracks at Bandra, where I spent a year after joining the Atomic Energy Establishment—flashing before me in rhythm with the incessant drone of the large engines of the aircraft was my entire life.

I desperately tried catching up on some sleep on board this magic carpet, but then there were a lot of firsts happening all at once and it kept me awake. Be it that feeling of flying to another continent on your first plane ride, the extremely pretty French air- hostesses who kept waiting on us and serving us the most delicious food we had every tasted—and then of course, there was Subbu.

Subbu, short for Subramaniam, my fellow colleague at AEET, was  seated right next to me. When  the pretty air-hostess asked us about our food preference, I was surprised to find the Tamil Brahmin also opt  for non-vegetarian food, like me. I naturally shot him a surprised look, and a sheepish Subbu replied, I don’t want to create any fuss with food when travelling abroad.When in Rome...

And if your mother finds out? I replied at once, knowing Subbu’s mother well enough to react on hearing of his eating indiscretions.

Then God help me! She’ll surely make me take a dip in the Ganges before allowing me to enter the house! Subbu replied, imagining that dreadful situation.

We kept chatting, discussing our immediate future in a foreign land and the excitement kept us awake all through—when suddenly, the speakers crackled to life and a heavily French-accented voice announced, Ladies and Gentlemen, we are about to land at the Orly International Airport in Paris shortly. Please make sure that your tray tables are closed and your seats...

Everyone has that one journey that changes their lives forever— and this was going to be the same for me, not just professionally, but as I later learnt, personally  as well. Even much later in life, my thoughts have always kept going back to that one moment when the plane’s wheel bounced along the tarmac and slid to a halt at Paris’ busiest airport.Yes, that is where it all changed for me.

II

We shuffled across the tarmac, as  the cold breeze made our noses go numb. We had finally stepped foot on foreign soil, and it was indeed a great feeling. The 27th  of November — there is no way that I will ever forget that wonderful day.

We walked into the airport, our eyes rotating all around to take in everything that we were seeing. We finally spotted the ASTEF kiosk at one end of the terminal and were asked to go to Hotel de Paris in Pigalle — we were also told it was one of the hip places to be for an unforgettable night.They even gave us detailed directions of the subway route to take to the hotel.We were all covered under the popular De Gaulle Scholarship, which allowed us subsidised rates at select hotels.

My first night at Paris was a learning experience. I was told that there were many self-service diners  where you could walk in, pick up a tray, choose your food, pay and leave—all of this without speaking at all. My first adventure on the first night, was my realisation that nobody in Paris spoke any English! Not that all of them didn’t know the language, they were just expressing their anti-English sentiments. It was a tough task and after enquiring by help of sign language, I finally made it to one of these diners. Only to realise that the worst was still to follow.

After dinner, as I requested passers-by to direct me to Hotel De Paris, I ended up by walking almost all over Pigalle till well past midnight. Finally, I met a kind person who agreed to speak to me in English.When I mentioned that I was staying at Hotel De Paris, I was told that there were too many Hotel De Paris spread all over the city and unless I could tell him the name of the particular street, it would be impossible to find the hotel. I did what I thought was best. I walked every street in Pigalle looking for a signboard for Hotel De Paris and after many blind runs, I finally found the sign in one street. I had learnt my first lesson. Since then I have always carried a visiting card of the hotel I stayed in.

Then, of course, came my first culture shock, if I may use the term. And as Murphy’s law would have it, this shock originated in the bathroom. I had lived all my life in Lahore, Haridwar, Ambala, Varanasi and Mumbai, and yet for the life of me I had no idea what the function of a bidet was. I found it covertly tucked away next to the washbasin, behind  a curtain and even after I spent quite some time trying to understand it’s use, I could not make any headway in the matter.

And if I did not know what a bidet was, my roommate, M K Gupta, knew  even less. Therefore, he  committed  a blunder. Thinking it to be a WC, he had merrily used the bidet for his morning ablutions—till it later struck him that there was no way to flush it out. I was bone tired after my dumb adventure from the night before, but a distraught Gupta woke me up and narrated to me his predicament. It took us a good thirty minutes to clean the mess by repeatedly flushing it down with hot water.

I am sure this incident must have given Gupta much constipation in the future, though he may never admit to it in public. As for me, the function of a bidet could never have been more clearly defined. I learnt later that it was to be used for cleaning the lower half of the body after love making. Of course, the French! These romantics lived in great style.

––––––––

III

Post  the  adventures of  my  first night, we  reported  to  the Scholarship Office at 09:30 AM the next morning and the ten of us who had arrived from different countries, were all handed our train tickets to Besancon, where we would have to spend three months learning French at The Alliance Française Centre. A total of three such Alliance Française Centres had been selected for our orientation, including one in Paris. It was important for all of us to learn French, not just for conversing but also for our training.

Waiting for the train, we started conversing with each other, making new friends with people from foreign nations. And it was there at the platform itself that I first noticed a young lady with Mongoloid features.There was something about her which gave her an air of maturity and dignified intellect. I don’t know what it was, but I could just not turn away.The way she carried herself, the way in which she was engrossed in conversation with a lady standing next to her, her inquisitive eyes, her delightful smile—everything just left me transfixed and rooted to my spot, as everything around me faded away till only she was left standing in front of me.

I was still standing at a short distance from her with my friends, as we were speaking to a young microbiologist from Honduras; and yet my eyes just kept going back to her. And finally, I threw caution to the wind and decided to walk up to her and introduce myself. She, too, did likewise. I was in the company of Dr Saiyud Sribyatta, a medical doctor from Thailand.

There was a lot we still didn’t know back then. Like where Thailand actually was on the map of the world. For us, anyone with Mongoloid features was a ‘Chinese’, or a ‘Japanese’ (just as anyone who lived south of the Vindhyas was a Madrassi).

Our train arrived at the platform shortly and we soon found our seats inside. Unknown  to myself, I had embarked on a new journey in my life; and though I would be getting off at Besancon, my destination was yet to arrive.

IV

Besancon is a historic city located in north-east France, about 325 kilometres from Paris, near the Swiss border. I am told that nowadays, the city is connected by high speed TGV, but in our time it took us a few hours to reach our destination.The town certainly is a tourist destination—picturesque, full of history from the times of Julius Caesar. Besancon’s famous sons include Victor Hugo and the Lumiere Brothers. The city also boasts of the best art galleries outside of Paris. It is surrounded by seven hills and is famous for its microtechnology and watch industries.

Once we reached Besancon, we were immediately taken to our hotels. Gupta, who was a strict vegetarian, wanted a hotel with cooking facilities in the room, since he was not sure if he would enjoy regular French non-vegetarian food; he