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The scientist who wasn't a spy
Nambi Narayanan has lived an extraordinary life. Branded a spy in 1994, the Isro scientist has fought hard for his honour. The recent Kerala HC order for monetary compensation to him has brought a little more cheer to the man who says he's now ready to bring his tormentors to justice and expose the conspiracy against India's ambitious cryogenic project
They began their scientific careers as the two bright stars of India's space research programme . Later, of course, APJ Abdul Kalam's and S Nambi Narayanan's lives would go on separate trajectories and their stories would read very differently.
Kalam, who was working on the solid propulsion system in the Indian Space Research Organisation (Isro), went on to become a much-loved President of India. S Nambi Narayanan, who was working on the liquid propulsion system the technology was successfully used in many satellite missions during the same period, was branded a spy and traitor, his brilliant scientific career dented forever even as he fought against an unjust system to prove his innocence.
Narayanan, along with six others, including his Isro colleague D Sasikumar, was arrested on November 30, 1994 on charges of espionage and for selling defence secrets to two Maldivian women, Mariam Rasheeda and Fauzia Hassan.
He spent 50 days in jail after that and lived in anxiety and ignominy until the Supreme Court cleared him of the charges in 1998. But even after that he never got to work in the prestigious cryogenics field at ISRO. Last week, the Kerala high court upheld an order of the National Human Rights Commission directing the state to pay a compensation of Rs 10 lakh to the scientist for implicating him in a false case. But that doesn't really mean much to him now.
Sitting in his spacious living room, at West Fort in Thiruvananthapuram, amidst rocket models and European paintings, 71-year-old Narayanan resembles Alexander Solzhenitsyn, the tortured Russian Noble Prize-winning author who was expelled from the Soviet Union. "They framed me in a false case, perhaps to destroy India's space research program which was moving at a fast pace," he says in a soft voice, caressing his long, grey beard that shines in the morning sun.
In those dark days, the media so convincingly printed and parroted everything that one particular police inspector said that even educated Keralites began believing the concocted stories that detailed illicit links between a scientist and a couple of random Maldivian women. The controversy was soon used by a section of Congress politicians to tarnish the image of then chief minister K Karunakaran , who was already embroiled in what was called the Palmolein scam.
"I spent 50 days in jail and the state police pressured me to say that even the Isro top brass was involved," says Narayanan. The case was later taken over by the CBI which found no evidence, and said it was fabricated. This was later upheld by the Supreme Court. But it may not be closure yet for Narayanan as the identity of key players who fuelled the case still remains in the dark. Also, the question remains unanswered whether it was merely an unfortunate chain of events or if there was a larger game plan.
Narayanan, personally, believes in the role of some external agencies which wanted to halt India's cryogenic space research programme. "We can now put the jigsaw puzzle together if we can look at what was happening internationally at that time as India was cutting into a billion dollar space industry poised to take off with its cryogenic engine research," he says.
Police inspector Vijayan, who registered the first case against the two Maldivian women for overstaying, and the vernacular media which printed verbatim what the state police said, were perhaps minor characters in a larger international conspiracy.
India, by the early 1990s, had developed its own solid and liquid fuel and was able to put its satellites in orbits up to 800km. But the ultimate challenge was to develop a cryogenic engine that would propel heavy rockets with payloads of more than three tonnes to the geo-synchronous orbit, 36,000 km away from earth. These satellites would then provide accurate geo-spatial images of earth and would usher in a path-breaking revolution in telecommunication and media. Cryogenics, the science of extreme low temperatures, has been a tricky one for rocket scientists across the world.
"At stake was a 300 billon dollar space research and applications industry which was in the hands of five nations the US, France, China, Russia, and Japan. Almost every major country wanted to put its own satellites in the orbit and they could do it only with the help of these five nations,'' says J Rajashekaran Nair, who authored Spies from Space: The ISRO Frame-up .
In 1992, India signed an agreement with Russia for transfer of technology to develop cryogenic-based fuels. The agreement was signed for Rs 235 crore, when the US and France were offering the same technology for Rs 950 crore and Rs 650 crore respectively. "Documents show that US president George Bush (Sr) wrote to Russia, raising objections against this agreement and even threatening to blacklist the country from the select-five club,'' Rajashekaran says.
Russia, under Boris Yelstin, succumbed to the pressure and denied cryogenic technology to India. To bypass this monopoly, India signed a new agreement with Russia to fabricate four cryogenic engines after floating a global tender without a formal transfer of technology.'
Isro had already reached a consensus with Kerala High Tech Industries Limited (Keltch) which would have provided the cheapest tender for fabricating engines . But this did not happen as the spy scandal surfaced in late 1994. "If you look at the people who were arrested in the case, they were all connected in some way in developing or procuring the technology . We cannot rule out foul play by an external agency," says Rajashekaran.
The plot, says Narayanan, was to tarnish the image of a premier research institution. "How could we have leaked out cryogenic missile technology when we did not even possess one? But what we lost in the process was years of hard work to revolutionise our space research , and the credibility and morale of our scientific community. And on a personal level, it ruined the lives of six families who were dragged into the case for no fault of theirs.''
Nambi Narayanan has lived an extraordinary life. Branded a spy in 1994, the Isro scientist has fought hard for his honour. The recent Kerala HC order for monetary compensation to him has brought a little more cheer to the man who says he's now ready to bring his tormentors to justice and expose the conspiracy against India's ambitious cryogenic project
They began their scientific careers as the two bright stars of India's space research programme . Later, of course, APJ Abdul Kalam's and S Nambi Narayanan's lives would go on separate trajectories and their stories would read very differently.
Kalam, who was working on the solid propulsion system in the Indian Space Research Organisation (Isro), went on to become a much-loved President of India. S Nambi Narayanan, who was working on the liquid propulsion system the technology was successfully used in many satellite missions during the same period, was branded a spy and traitor, his brilliant scientific career dented forever even as he fought against an unjust system to prove his innocence.
Narayanan, along with six others, including his Isro colleague D Sasikumar, was arrested on November 30, 1994 on charges of espionage and for selling defence secrets to two Maldivian women, Mariam Rasheeda and Fauzia Hassan.
He spent 50 days in jail after that and lived in anxiety and ignominy until the Supreme Court cleared him of the charges in 1998. But even after that he never got to work in the prestigious cryogenics field at ISRO. Last week, the Kerala high court upheld an order of the National Human Rights Commission directing the state to pay a compensation of Rs 10 lakh to the scientist for implicating him in a false case. But that doesn't really mean much to him now.
Sitting in his spacious living room, at West Fort in Thiruvananthapuram, amidst rocket models and European paintings, 71-year-old Narayanan resembles Alexander Solzhenitsyn, the tortured Russian Noble Prize-winning author who was expelled from the Soviet Union. "They framed me in a false case, perhaps to destroy India's space research program which was moving at a fast pace," he says in a soft voice, caressing his long, grey beard that shines in the morning sun.
In those dark days, the media so convincingly printed and parroted everything that one particular police inspector said that even educated Keralites began believing the concocted stories that detailed illicit links between a scientist and a couple of random Maldivian women. The controversy was soon used by a section of Congress politicians to tarnish the image of then chief minister K Karunakaran , who was already embroiled in what was called the Palmolein scam.
"I spent 50 days in jail and the state police pressured me to say that even the Isro top brass was involved," says Narayanan. The case was later taken over by the CBI which found no evidence, and said it was fabricated. This was later upheld by the Supreme Court. But it may not be closure yet for Narayanan as the identity of key players who fuelled the case still remains in the dark. Also, the question remains unanswered whether it was merely an unfortunate chain of events or if there was a larger game plan.
Narayanan, personally, believes in the role of some external agencies which wanted to halt India's cryogenic space research programme. "We can now put the jigsaw puzzle together if we can look at what was happening internationally at that time as India was cutting into a billion dollar space industry poised to take off with its cryogenic engine research," he says.
Police inspector Vijayan, who registered the first case against the two Maldivian women for overstaying, and the vernacular media which printed verbatim what the state police said, were perhaps minor characters in a larger international conspiracy.
India, by the early 1990s, had developed its own solid and liquid fuel and was able to put its satellites in orbits up to 800km. But the ultimate challenge was to develop a cryogenic engine that would propel heavy rockets with payloads of more than three tonnes to the geo-synchronous orbit, 36,000 km away from earth. These satellites would then provide accurate geo-spatial images of earth and would usher in a path-breaking revolution in telecommunication and media. Cryogenics, the science of extreme low temperatures, has been a tricky one for rocket scientists across the world.
"At stake was a 300 billon dollar space research and applications industry which was in the hands of five nations the US, France, China, Russia, and Japan. Almost every major country wanted to put its own satellites in the orbit and they could do it only with the help of these five nations,'' says J Rajashekaran Nair, who authored Spies from Space: The ISRO Frame-up .
In 1992, India signed an agreement with Russia for transfer of technology to develop cryogenic-based fuels. The agreement was signed for Rs 235 crore, when the US and France were offering the same technology for Rs 950 crore and Rs 650 crore respectively. "Documents show that US president George Bush (Sr) wrote to Russia, raising objections against this agreement and even threatening to blacklist the country from the select-five club,'' Rajashekaran says.
Russia, under Boris Yelstin, succumbed to the pressure and denied cryogenic technology to India. To bypass this monopoly, India signed a new agreement with Russia to fabricate four cryogenic engines after floating a global tender without a formal transfer of technology.'
Isro had already reached a consensus with Kerala High Tech Industries Limited (Keltch) which would have provided the cheapest tender for fabricating engines . But this did not happen as the spy scandal surfaced in late 1994. "If you look at the people who were arrested in the case, they were all connected in some way in developing or procuring the technology . We cannot rule out foul play by an external agency," says Rajashekaran.
The plot, says Narayanan, was to tarnish the image of a premier research institution. "How could we have leaked out cryogenic missile technology when we did not even possess one? But what we lost in the process was years of hard work to revolutionise our space research , and the credibility and morale of our scientific community. And on a personal level, it ruined the lives of six families who were dragged into the case for no fault of theirs.''
