The nation waited with bated breath as Chandrayaan-II entered the moon’s orbit. For a couple of days everything else was pushed off centre stage.
Former Finance Minister P Chidambaram being sent to judicial custody, unrest in the Valley of Kashmir, the alarming state of the economy, even the grave apprehensions pertaining to the National Register of Citizens in Assam. Space, it seemed, was the arena where we were witnessing the birth of a new spectator sport.
In the event, the crescendo of expectations crashed into an anti-climax. What the ISRO chairman had repeatedly—in hindsight, almost ominously—described as the most terrifying final moment of the mission turned out to be cruelly prophetic.
The orbiter lost contact with Vikram, the explorer vehicle, that was till the last two-and-a-half minutes heading for a perfect soft landing. This unexpected development transformed euphoria into despair.
It doesn’t require rocket science to understand that exploration of space is very different from ordinary spectator sports. True, it combines many elements of games of chance and skill that delight the players and the passionate followers of a particular pastime, but essentially it is not a spectacle.
It can’t be denied or forgotten that ever since the USSR launched the Sputnik in Earth’s orbit followed by Laika, the dog, and Yuri Gagarin, the man, there has been a strong element of rivalry and almost cut-throat competition between the Americans and the Russians in the ‘race to space’.
It wasn’t till the US had landed Neil Armstrong on the moon a decade after Sputnik that the scientists at NASA and the politicians and bureaucrats who wield power over the agency could let out a sigh of relief.
It is important at this crucial moment that despite striking similarities on the surface and seductive power to obsess the spectator, we realise that the ‘Mission to Moon’ is not One-Day Cricket, or a scintillating game in Football World Cup, or a thrilling cliffhanger at the Wimbledon.
Nor can it become a substitute for a miraculous Hole in One on the golf course or a breathtaking sprint from Usain Bolt. Also, seldom does anyone in the lab or space station score a perfect 10 like a gymnast.
Patriotic pride gets inextricably mixed up with a nation’s scientific achievements. We continue to bask in the reflected glory of remarkable individuals such as S Ramanujan, JC Bose, CV Raman, Meghnad Saha, Homi Bhabha, Vikram Sarabhai and many more. But we tend to forget that all science is essentially a team ‘sport’.
No genius can blossom in an arid intellectual desert. If talent is not spotted early and nourished lovingly eschewing parochialism and political partisanship, it withers unseen and unsung. The problem of ‘brain drain’ that continues to plague us is a manifestation of this chronic malady.
Also, while it is human weakness to worship idols, remain starstruck with heroes and superstars—be it in sports, performing arts, films, or politics—pursuit of excellence and historic achievement involves many heartbreak moments.
Not many who have risked devastating failure in quest of glory can empathise with the loneliness of the long-distance runner or the unending torment of a poet, painter, musician, dancer wrestling with invisible demons.
Sir Isaac Newton had the humility to admit that he could see a little farther than others because he was standing on the shoulders of giants. It was Albert Einstein who quipped that he didn’t think that God plays dice.
Genius is indeed one per cent inspiration and 99 per cent perspiration. And, as Milton put it so well, “They also serve who stand and wait.”
As those who work at ISRO analyse the complex data that caused the ‘heartbreak’, let us get out of dejection. There is no cause for mourning. None can deny that what the ISRO has accomplished is extraordinary.
Ninety-five per cent of the mission was achieved and at a fraction of the cost incurred by the US, Russia, and China. Lessons learnt from failure are more valuable in the larger context.
Ultimately, the most important race we run is against ourselves and what matters most is that we never stop trying to reach for what appears to be beyond our grasp. It’s this that matters—not the spectacle.
pushpeshpant@gmail.com