Mission ISRO: Episode 1

Saare Jahan se Accha

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The end of the 2nd world war heralded the beginning of the “space race”. The biggest powers in the world at the time started trying to outdo each other with their space accomplishments. In the middle of all this, 1/5th of human population had just received political freedom and a new country called India was born. India had space ambitions too, but for completely different reasons, and thanks to 2 audacious gentlemen, we got started. Serendipity was Indian space programme’s best friend and ally during its early years.

Show Notes

All clips and voices used in this podcast are owned by the original creators

We thank wholeheartedly all our guests who appeared on this episode

Links to clips used in this episode —

Full Transcript of Episode 1

[Indira Gandhi speaks to Sqdn. Ldr. Rakesh Sharma aboard the Salyut from the DoorDarshan studios in Delhi]

Indira Gandhi
“Squadron leader Rakesh Sharma, saare rashtra ka dhyan aap ke taraf hain, aur hum sab aap ko badhai dete hain. Yeh ek aitihaasik kadam hai, meri aasha hai ki isse hamara desh antariksh ke prati jaagruk hoga…..prashn toh aapse bahut puchney hai lekin thodi si puchti hoon … “Upar se bharat kaisa dikhta hai aapko?”

Rakesh Sharma
“Ji main bagair kisi jijhak ke keh sakta hoon, saare jahan se accha.”

This was an iconic conversation.

4th April 1984.

For the first time in history, an Indian was floating in space, miles above the earth and describing that experience to another Indian … on earth.

Let me introduce you to the two people.

Squadron Leader Rakesh Sharma, the first and only Indian to have travelled to space, was in conversation with the then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. Wearing a bright white giant space suit and barely able to stifle his grin behind his giant glass visor, Squadron Leader Sharma was sitting inside the Soviet space station Salyut 7 while Mrs. Gandhi was in the Doordarshan studio in New Delhi.

I was 23 years old when this happened. I had just started out as a commentator at All India Radio in Hyderabad. Like millions of my fellow Indians at the time, I remember reading about this conversation in the newspaper and feeling completely exhilarated and even a little emotional.

India’s space aspirations had gained its enduring symbol. An Indian had managed to break free from the grasp of gravity and had reached where few humans had reached before.

What an unbelievable moment.

Mrs Gandhi asked Squadron Leader Sharma several questions about his historic trip but one among them was striking — “Upar Se Bharat kaisa dikhta hai, aapko?” (plays in the background)

‘What did India look like from space?’

Sharma’s reply was legendary.

Rakesh Sharma
“Ji main bagair kisi jijhak ke keh sakta hoon, saare jahan se accha.“

Saare Jahan Se Accha.

Hyperbole? Sure.

But to be fair, the entire ‘jahan’ or the whole world, was actually in front of his eyes.

His wife, Madhu, was watching her husband’s space sojourn on a colour TV screen in their flat in Star City near Moscow. She summed up what all of us felt back then.

I quote: “If there is anything like being on top of the world, this is it.

As a commentator and a voice artist, I cannot resist the charm and excitement that a good story has to offer. I search for such stories quite regularly in cricket — To me, every match has the potential to be a solid thriller with its own drama and subplots.

But when I heard the story of how India reached space, I was not just drawn to it but was a little stumped as well.

For centuries, humans have been undeniably fascinated with what lies beyond the Earth’s thin atmosphere. Indians are no exception to this but what’s exceptional about India’s space aspirations is the fact that they were deemed impossible right from the start.

The Indian space dream formally begins sometime around 1957, within barely a decade of our independence. It was an audacious idea to even think of launching an ambitious space programme back then.

A space programme, especially a far-sighted one the one India had, was expensive and needed a vast amount of resources. India in the 1950s was far from being able to afford that. More importantly, there was also the question of WHY? – Why should India embark on this risky experiment when the benefits were not clear for most people at that time.

And yet — and this is where it all gets interesting — thanks to a few audacious gentlemen, their vision and their ability to manoeuvre heaven and earth for it, we actually embarked on our own space adventure.

And as we did so, the world watched in stunning astonishment.

We still didn’t have the resources for it, nor did we have the training or expertise in space technology. A fishing village, remarkably, became the location of the space programme and we carried our rockets on bicycles and bullock carts. There are pictures of this, if you find it hard to believe!

Within the first four decades of India’s existence, we actually managed to build and launch our own rockets, satellites and satellite launching vehicles – all from scratch.

Today, India occupies a prestigious spot in the small list of countries who can call themselves the elite space club. This is not just a symbolic victory of India’s engineering prowess. Space has proven to be an important tool in modernizing our nation.

So, to me, all of this is what makes Squadron Leader Rakesh Sharma’s trip to space even more remarkable, right? By 1984, an Indian in space was just icing on the cake if you consider this incredible backstory. Who knew a country that could barely walk, could soar and fly!

This is a classic underdog story, one that I’m incredibly excited to narrate. It’s a thrilling how-did-we-get-here saga that has all the elements of a good thriller: an action-packed opening chapter, many affable protagonists, unforeseen twists, a ticking clock and a world-class ending.

From ATS STUDIO, this ⇻ is ⇻ Mission ISRO: a Spotify original podcast about how India reached space.

I am Harsha ⇻ Bhogle.

The Indian space programme’s tangible beginnings go back to the year 1957. But to understand India’s space aspirations and the initial seeds of thought that led to I-S-R-O, we need to perhaps start with humanity’s space ambitions. And that story begins just 12 years earlier, in 1945.

In 1945, Space was fast becoming an obsession especially for the two major powers in the world back then: The United States of America and the Soviet Union.

Emerging victorious in the second world war, the two superpowers had begun a whole new battle: The Cold War.

[We hear voices of President Harry Truman of the USA and Joseph Stalin of Russia addressing their countries.]

Those were the voices of former US President Harry Truman and Soviet dictator Stalin addressing their respective countries at the start of the Cold War.

Lasting for more than four decades[3], the Cold War wasn’t a straightforward guns and bombs kind of war but one that was fought geo-politically, economically and ideologically.[4] To thwart the other, each country participated in proxy wars, espionage and technological warfare.

Warfare that included developing indigenous capabilities in missile and space technology. So, the earth wasn’t enough. Both these countries were preparing to take their war all the way up to the skies.

It became a Space Race to be the first to exit the earth and hoist a piece of their country up in the skies. Launching vehicles and men into space was seen as a potent symbol of superiority. It was also a demonstration of each country’s military, economic and political might.

In many ways, the two countries believed that the outcome of the space race would determine which ideology was superior: Capitalist America or Communist Soviet Russia.

But I’m going too far ahead in this story. Let me return to 1945 – to the time when both the Americans and the Soviets had only just begun their preparation for the space race. Both of them were looking to build their own missile rockets. But neither of them knew how to build them.

So, they opted for the next best option: Seize an existing rocket and use that as a model to build their own and where could they find a good sample?

Enter Nazi Germany and the infamous V2 rocket.

The V2 was the world’s first long-range ballistic missile rocket, the world’s first large-scale liquid-propellant rocket vehicle and the ancestor of today’s large rockets and launch vehicles.

It was no surprise that both America and the USSR rushed to be the first to lay their hands on the V2 when the war ended.

Designed by Wernher Von Braun and built using slave labour, the V2 was capable of travelling at supersonic speed, and was impossible to intercept. We’re talking about a maximum speed of approximately 5760 kilometres per hour — that’s around five times faster than a commercial passenger jet.

The V2’s origins were rooted in Nazi Germany’s desire to pound the island of Britain into submission. Aerial raids previously had led to damage to their own aircraft fleet. Rockets, on the other hand, could not be intercepted by British planes nor could British radars detect them fast enough to warn the public. Damage on British soil could come at no human cost to the Germans.

V stood for ‘vergeltungswaffen’, or ‘retaliatory weapon’. And this was the second iteration of the flying weapon that the Germans were experimenting with. Hence, V2.

According to the air and space museum in Washington DC, at least 10000 concentration camp workers died while manufacturing the V2. Each V2 rocket was around 14 metres high and carried around 900 kgs of explosives.

Cylindrical in shape, with four clipped rectangular fins at the bottom and a sharp pointed nose at the top, the V2 was fuelled by liquid ethanol and oxygen. The rocket also had an automatic guidance system that ensured that it could operate independently without ground control.

On the first day that the V2 was fired by the Germans in 1944, it was deployed against England. The rocket was launched from the Hague Wassenaar area which is in the Netherlands today.

It landed just five minutes after launch, but its impact wasn’t small.

The rocket hit Chiswick, a suburb in East London, which is half-an-hour’s drive from the Lord’s Cricket Ground. That morning, no one obviously was looking up at the skies anticipating an attack. All they knew was that suddenly, there was an explosion. 3 people were dead, 22 were injured and 11 houses were demolished.

Towards the end of the second world war, the deadly V2 rockets killed close to 5500 people and wounded around 6500 people.

When the war ended, the Soviets gained possession of the manufacturing facilities of V2 at Nordhausen. By September 1946, they managed to get German missile engineers to assemble 30 V-2 missiles. Then, in October 1946, the Soviets transferred these German missile engineers who were forced to work for them to a special research facility near Moscow where they were held captive again until the mid-1950s.

The Americans, in the meantime, seized V2 hardware but they also went a step further: they got Von Braun to surrender and move to America.

Preparation for the space race was therefore officially underway. The V2 would prove to be incredibly useful in the missile and space programmes of both the Americans and the Soviets. As the BBC described it, it was the V2 that launched the space age.

Within a year of the end of the war, in 1946, the Americans actually used the V2 but for a rather benign purpose: to photograph the earth from space for the first time.

American scientists strapped a 35-millimeter movie camera onto the nose of the V2 and blasted it towards space. The rocket shot up around 100 kilometres into the atmosphere only to crash back into the earth shortly after. The scientists rummaged through the wreckage at the crash site and discovered the camera. Both the camera and the film inside were protected by a steel case.

The scientists were overjoyed. They were about to see the first ever photographs of the earth from space

And … Somewhere in those first pictures of the earth … Was India … a country that was only now finding its feet. A country that was far away from this burgeoning space race. And a country which had only then carved for itself some space on earth, let alone the skies.

In August 1947, while this battle for space supremacy was well underway, Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru was leading a massive country that had just found its freedom. As the front page headline of The Statesman described it, political freedom had been won for one-fifth of the human race.

There were widespread celebrations surely, but there was also tremendous uncertainty. The Constituent Assembly was still figuring out what kind of country India should be. Among the many challenges before us was widespread hunger, poverty, illiteracy and a society divided on caste and religion.

This was also a time when India did not know if all of its parts could be held together – there were princely states and kingdoms that were still tentative about joining the Indian union. The big looming question therefore, was whether this experiment called India would even work.

Now, amidst all of this — the resources or even the desire for a Space programme was pretty much considered unthinkable or unheard of.

Isn’t space what rich nations dream of was the question that most people asked? And why does India even need a space programme?

There were two audacious and exceptionally talented Indian scientists in India who had clear answers to these questions. They felt that India could and should launch a space programme. In fact, they felt, India actually needed one.

A 48-year-old Parsi scientist from Bombay called Homi Jahangir Bhabha and a 38-year-old Gujarati scientist from Ahmedabad called Vikram Sarabhai.

Bhabha and Sarabhai didn’t want India to participate in the space race. No. Their reasons for starting a space programme were very, very different. And what they found was that the universe was conspiring to make it all happen.

Let’s do some time travel again.

This is a story of two scientists who were of differing age – Bhabha was 10 years older than Vikram, they grew up in different cities and didn’t meet until the 1940s. But their life stories mirrored each other rather uncannily.

1909, South Bombay.

A large house, a house that has a gigantic library, a huge garden and lots of dogs. The owners of the house, Parsi couple Jehangir Bhabha and Meherbai welcome their son, Hormasji Jehangir Bhabha — fondly called Homi — named after his grandfather, the Inspector of General Education in the princely state of Mysore.

Bhabha’s childhood was pretty momentous — surrounded by affluence, high culture and lots of chatter about a new nation called India that was potentially on the horizon.

Bhabha’s uncle was none other than Dorabji Tata, the scion of the Tatas. In his book Nucleus and Nation, Robert S Anderson writes that, everyday, at lunch time, Bhabha, would cross the road from his school – the Cathedral School in south Bombay – to have lunch at his uncle’s house. It’s called The Bombay House today and you’ll see it if you take a stroll in Kala Ghoda in Mumbai.

Lunch at the Bombay House was no ordinary affair because it was there that Bhabha met and heard the leaders of the freedom struggle including Mahatma Gandhi and Nehru, discuss the many grand ideas for the country that was to be. The relationship with the Tatas also gave Bhabha a peek into the workings of industries.

Let’s skip ahead — to 1919, Ahmedabad.

Renowned industrialist Ambalal Sarabhai and his wife Sarla Devi bring home their young baby boy, Vikram Sarabhai. The Retreat, as their house in Ahmedabad is called, was a magnificent and verdant space.

Vikram Sarabhai’s biographer Amrita Shah writes that The Retreat had fifty-odd rooms, outhouses, garages, a swimming pool, courts for badminton and cricket and a horse for every member of the family. It also had two cooks, thirty gardeners, ten guards and an army of drivers and cleaners.

The Sarabhais were actively involved in the freedom movement as well. They were close to the Nehru family. Both Jawaharlal Nehru and his father Motilal Nehru stayed with the Sarabhais when they visited Ahmedabad. Shah writes that Vikram was 11 when Gandhi embarked on the Dandi March. A day before the march began, the entire Sarabhai family had reached the Sabarmati Ashram to show their support to Gandhi.

Vikram’s was no ordinary childhood. And perhaps, it can be argued that this was one of the reasons for Vikram Sarabhai’s extraordinariness.

Mallika Sarabhai
I can only share with you stories that I have heard.

This is Mallika Sarabhai, Vikram’s daughter and a famous dancer and artiste.

Mallika Sarabhai
And apparently he was an extremely precocious child, very curious, constantly wanting to explore. And by the time he was three or four, he was already trying to make things. There is a story that when Rabindranath Tagore had come when he was about two years old, he took papa into his lap, and he looked at Papa’s forehead and told my grandparents, that he will be a great sage or a great scientist.

We don’t know what he may have done if he had become a sage but we can indeed vouch for his exceptional contribution as a scientist.

In their quest to give their children the best education, Vikram’s parents actually invited Maria Montessori, the proponent of the famous Montessori method, to their home in Ahmedabad. Together, with her help, they set up a one-of-a-kind school where the Sarabhai children were encouraged to pursue the subjects they wanted to and had access to the best teachers and a host of luminaries from a gamut of fields. And we’re talking here of teachers like Tagore, Jagadish Chandra Bose, Jadunath Sarkar and CV Raman – giants that we’ve all studied in our textbooks in school.

It was in this environment that the young Vikram Sarabhai, despite being the son of an industrialist, grew up nurturing a love for science.

Mallika Sarabhai
I suppose his love for science must be something that he came with, was destined to do because we have no understanding of anybody, previous to him, his father or grandfather or mother or grandmother or aunts, having an interest in science. But the interest in science, as I said to you, came very early, and he started wanting to to know how things worked very early.

I’m going to pause Vikram’s story here and return to Bhabha and Bombay for a minute.

The year is 1927 and Bhabha’s uncle and father decide that Bhabha should pursue engineering. So they pack him off to Cambridge. What they of course don’t anticipate is how Cambridge transforms Bhabha’s life and thereafter India’s as well.

The end of the 1920s and the early 1930s was an eventful time in the University of Cambridge, especially for physics.

1932 – the atom is split for the first time paving the way for the study of nuclear physics under the direction of Ernest Rutherford at the Cavendish Laboratory.

1933 – Paul Dirac receives his Nobel prize for physics. Positron, the first anti-particle is discovered.

Into this environment walks in Homi Bhabha, who begins to find that his interest is veering away from engineering and tilting strongly towards physics. He writes about it in a letter to his father.

“I seriously say to you that business or job as an engineer is not a thing for me. It is totally foreign to my nature and radically opposed to my temperament and opinions. Physics is my line. I know I shall do great things here.”

And he was right. While in Cambridge, Bhabha would collaborate with a few of the greatest physicists of the time including Paul Dirac, Enrico Fermi who is referred to as the architect of the nuclear age, Neils Bohr, a Nobel Prize winner who made solid contributions to understanding the atomic structure and quantum theory.

Some of Bhabha’s landmark contributions would be in a new field at that time called Cosmic Rays.

Discovered in 1912, Cosmic rays are fragments of atoms that rain down on the Earth from outside the solar system. For the longest time, many aspects about these rays were a mystery and physicists from all over the world became engrossed in uncovering the story behind them. Very interestingly, India’s space story is also linked with this study of Cosmic Rays but we’ll come to that later in the podcast.

Right, let’s return to Vikram’s story. The year is 1937.

Pursuing his interest in science, especially physics, Vikram Sarabhai also reaches Cambridge. It was Rabindranath Tagore who wrote him a recommendation letter.

But interestingly, Bhabha and Sarabhai don’t seem to have met in Cambridge. Cambridge weaves its charm on Sarabhai as well and Sarabhai is determined to spend the next few years in the University. And just then, the second world war breaks out.

British PM Address to the Nation
I am speaking to you from the Cabinet room of 10 Downing Street. This morning, the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by 11 o clock, that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received and that consequently, this country is at war with Germany.

When the war breaks out, Bhabha happens to be in India on a break from Cambridge. And he finds that he cannot go back to his beloved university for a while and has to find a way to continue his research in India somehow.

Meanwhile, Sarabhai’s father Ambalal, anxious about the raging war, was adamant that his son return to India. Finally, Vikram acquiesces and returns to India but on the condition that he be allowed to continue his postgraduate research in India. The question was again about finding a way to do that.

Serendipity. Serendipity. Serendipity.

Serendipity was Indian space programme’s best friend and ally during its early years.

In the then small city of Bangalore in the Mysore Kingdom, the leafy confines of the Indian Institute of Science was the bedrock of Indian science. The institute had been founded and funded by the Tatas, and arguably the most famous person working there was C.V. Raman, India’s only Nobel laureate in the sciences then.

As thousands of Indians were being transported to the bloody battlefields of Europe, Raman would get two requests from two Indians who had returned home.

Homi Bhabha chose to continue his research at the Indian Institute of Science and Raman was only too glad to say yes. According to the Indian physicist Spenta R Wadia, the Nobel laureate CV Raman was very impressed by Bhabha. A special place was created for Bhabha in the institute and in 1941, at a meeting at the Indian Academy of Sciences, Raman described Bhabha as and I quote ‘the modern equivalent of Leonardo Da Vinci’.

The second request that Raman would receive would be from one of his old connections – Ambalal Sarabhai on behalf of his son Vikram Sarabhai. Cambridge had told Vikram that he could continue his postgraduate research in India provided it is under the mentorship of Raman.

For those who have not been to Indian Institute of Science, let me describe its environment for you — to imagine the conditions in which Sarabhai and Homi Bhabha met. A canopy of Mahogany, Ashoka and Gulmohar trees cover the 440 acres of IISc in a verdant green. Grey stone buildings built in classical European styles house laboratories, classes and housing quarters. Slender loris and monkeys playfully prance on the canopies, while some of India’s best scientific minds discuss animatedly in the shade below.

Vikram Sarabhai met Homi Bhabha at IISC and the two gentlemen struck up an instantaneous and incredible friendship — one that would enrich not only their individual lives but the lives of millions living in India for generations to come.

Amrita Shah writes that the two men, after work at IISC, would head off to the West End Hotel – on Race Course Road in Bangalore today — for an evening of socialising. Both men, deeply interested in the arts, would also spend their evenings attending music and dance concerts.

The war had brought two of the best visionaries in Indian science together and set the stage for an impeccable and exciting collaboration.

As Amrita Shah also points out, it is impossible to know how much of what they went on to do was actually planned in their time in Bangalore but what we do know is that by the time India became independent, both men had decided to stay back in India and use their skills, knowledge and talent for the country.

In 1944 itself, Bhabha wrote this letter to physicist Patrick Blackett in Cambridge,

“In the last two years I have come more and more to the view that provided proper appreciation and financial support are forthcoming, it is one’s duty to stay in one’s own country and build up schools comparable with those that other countries are fortunate in possessing.”

One could argue that this was an ideal whose seed was perhaps sown in their respective childhoods especially since both men grew up as the idea of India was being formed. But it was also an ideal that was the zeitgeist of the 1940s and the 50s.

I want to pause here and talk a little bit about science and scientific research in India especially around the time of India’s independence.

India may have been poor but that did not mean that the country did not have the scientific acumen, the scientists, the network or the vision. The Indian Institute of Science had been established all the way back in 1909 itself. The Council of Scientific and Industrial research (CSIR) was created in 1942. One of its main aims was to help the development of natural resources and new industries in a soon-to-be independent India. Around the same time, scientists like Shanti Swaroop Bhatnagar had already begun building major research laboratories for physics and chemistry.

In his book, Nucleus and Nation, Robert S Anderson writes that the general advice given to scientists as early as late 1942, including students of science, was that they should keep their heads down and continue to work and study in anticipation of Independence – they would all be needed as professional scientists later. Anderson also adds that both collectively and individually, well before 1947, scientists had set in motion efforts to build new institutions to do research at international levels and train new generations of competent scientists who would stay and work in India.

Both Sarabhai and Bhabha were products of this rich environment. And around the time of India’s independence, both these men added two new institutions to the scientific landscape: Bhabha set up the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research in Bombay in 1946 focused on harnessing India’s nuclear energy potential. He also took up the chairmanship of a committee of scientists that supported nuclear research. Called the atomic energy committee, this had members such as Shanti Swaroop Bhatnagar and Meghnad Saha.

Sarabhai, in the meantime, after IISC, returned to Cambridge to finish his PhD. But when he returned to India, he set up the Physical Research Laboratory, a modest two-room laboratory, in Ahmedabad mainly focused on nuclear and cosmic ray physics.

If nuclear energy was on Bhabha’s mind, space was on Sarabhai’s. Both of these were ambitious and daunting fields of study but that didn’t stop them.

Part of the interest in space would have been sparked by their shared interest in cosmic ray research. We know about Bhabha’s fascination with the subject already. Shah writes that it was CV Raman who nudged Vikram Sarabhai in the direction of Cosmic Rays. Sarabhai’s eventual PhD thesis at Cambridge was titled ‘Cosmic Ray Investigations in Tropical Latitudes’.

It isn’t clear exactly when Sarabhai came up with the idea for a space programme for India but academic research in space science was already underway in PRL right from the start.

Sarabhai knew that India did not have the resources for an ambitious space programme. But that wasn’t going to deter him or Bhabha for that matter. Sarabhai wasn’t interested in shallow displays of scientific engineering prowess by hurrying to send objects, animals or even men in space. He and Bhabha wanted India to start a space programme for completely different reasons and that was to accelerate India’s development.

How?

Mallika Sarabhai
Papa’s dream for India’s Space Programme was that it would deliver the last mile connectivity in education, in health, in guidance to farmers and guidance to other needs. It was never to go to Mars to show how great a nation we were and to show that we are in you know, we are as big as America or anything else.

Sarabhai believed that space technology can be harnessed for its applications. Satellites, he argued pretty early on, could be used for communications, remote sensing, education and so on. That was Mallika Sarabhai again, if you did not recognize her voice.

Space historian Asif Siddiqi explains this idea a little further.

Asif Siddiqi
“…you know, people may ask, why does a country like India need a Space Programme? And his sort of reformulation of that was that in fact, it is a country like India that needs a Space Programme because he imagined a Space Programme that would be a holistic part of Indian development. That you can’t simply develop agriculture and industry and factories and roads — you have to do something more advanced simultaneously. And it’s not a sequential problem.”

His was a farsighted view of the space programme. In his writings, Siddiqi writes that, to the argument that India is poor and hence it does not need a space programme, Sarabhai said, India is poor and THEREFORE needs a space programme.

Okay, but the question remained — how was India going to actually pull it off?

While preparation to reach space had been underway in the world since 1945, even a decade later, no country had yet successfully managed to send an object or a person to space. And we’re talking here about two of the most advanced nations in the world: the US and the USSR.

What hope was there for India, a republic that had only been around for a few years?

The answer would come in 1957.

I’ll give you a hint: Object D.

Credits

Narrated by – Harsha Bhogle
Producer – Gaurav Vaz
Research & Interviews – Archana Nathan
Written by – Archana Nathan & Nupur Pai
Narrative overview – Sidin Vadukut & Devaiah Bopanna
Editing – Gaurav Vaz & Supriya Nair
Transcription – Anushka Mukherjee

Title Track, Sound Design, Background Score – Raghu Dixit
Audio Prouduction Assitance – Suraj Gulvady
Audio Engineering Support & Editing – Madhav Ayachit
Recorded at Island City Studios, Mumbai by – Supratik Das