What's the craziest Idea that you've ever had? An idea that did not look half as dull-witted as it does now, in hindsight? Was it when you decided to plug a lightbulb into a household plug and satiate the scientist within you, only to settle the Alternating Current v/s Direct Current debate once and for all? Or was it when you decided to give company to your dog in his hearty breakfast of ever so delicious (and a little salty for my liking) royal canine? While you light up the imaginary light bulb in your brain coming up with some questions of your own, I would like to bring one such story to you.
Stephen Hector Taylor Smith, who went by the name Steph among those who were acquainted with his wits, was one such man. Stephen grew up in years of conflict, with blocs of power clashing in the east and the west. These years that formed an integral part of his teenage years also presented him with an interest that would soon change the world; Rocketry. The World war was a contrast of realities, with countries fighting wars of different eras. While some outwitted others by flexing their armor with the help of modern tanks and artillery, others chose to retaliate with age-old horse cavalry and the might of Infantarian bravado. The war led to an awakening among the intellectuals of the west, who now chose to turn towards modern artillery. While the powers of the world were firing up warheads of their own, Stephen too was indulging in some engineering in his backyard.
 |
| Stephen Smith with his Rocket |
Little is known about Stephen's school years to shed light on his rise from a little Anglo-Indian boy from the hills of Shillong to the father of Astro-philately. However, most of his peers have described him as an eternally curious lad, who could often be spotted near Strawberry hill with a pad and pen in his hand, firing up projectiles. He would often burn the midnight oil in his father's motorcycle garage putting together crude rockets based on those of the Mysore State, reverse engineering their mechanism. A lot of people back in the 1900s were busy doing the same, engineering weapons of destruction in the form of ballistic projectiles. His intention, however, was not to kill the white dove but merely replace it. While performing one such experiment, he sneakily transported a pair of garden lizards across a swimming pool. This incident although rather vague to the reader sitting in the 21st century, was a eureka moment for 14-year-old Stephen. He asked himself a question- "What if we could transport letters on rockets?"
 |
| Smith's yearbook photo from the College of Physicians and Surgeons of Bengal, 1911 |
The irony of youth is that it is given to young people and that of pragmatism is that it is given to the elderly. As Stephen grew up, the societal expectation of getting a stable bread and butter got to him. He worked his way up medical school to become a dentist with a first-class distinction. He worked his day job to fend for his family while spending his nights painting color into his sketch of delivery rockets (Truly a Rocket Singh, some might say!). He would also spend countless hours writing to the Secretary, Department of post, penning down his idea and their implications. A standard reply to these letters would be a "We're delighted to hear from you", which in not so many words was a sweet, letterheaded, and countersigned "This guy has to stop". The light of hope had certainly seen a number of dawns but yet re-ignited itself with the same zeal every morning, until it did not have to.
Life as a Dentist is fascinating largely because of the patients you see every day, You could be operating on royalty and a peasant on the same day yet tend to each with the same professionalism. Our protagonist met one such fascinating patient on a rather uneventful day. Sitting in his recliner, looking at his flashy Bremont diver was the 1st Viscount of Chelmsford who had just assumed charge as the Viceroy. As our protagonist tended to his inner molar, a thin film of cold sweat appeared on his brow while invasive thoughts of "What if I were to pitch my idea to him?" wrestled with his wit. The Viscount sans his molar was delighted by the service that the young doctor had done to him and hence the crown and was all ears for anything that he would have to say. Stephen with all his intensity showed the Viscount his designs and impressed upon him the importance of rocket-aided mail. The man of importance once a man in uniform was no stranger to the wonders of rocketry and was impressed by the young man's thought. Upon returning home from a rather eventful day, Stephen was greeted with an envelope from the Viceroy's office offering him the position of Secretary of the Indian Airmail Society.
I would not like to come across as a proponent of the Butterfly Effect, A burden I carry as the narrator of this story. However, a flap that Stephen had made in Calcutta raised Havoc several miles north, in a place far away from the advancements of time; The kingdom of Sikkim. Referred to as Indrakil (the garden of the god of war) in ancient texts, A kingdom lying in the Tibetan plateau is blessed with beauty of no equal and has historically been a terrain with arduous mobility. Sikkim was a protectorate of the crown, headed by Chogyal (holy king) Tashi Namgyal. Namgyal was known to be a man of science, who upon hearing of Stephen's inventions in the south ,reached out to him to solve the problem of postal delivery in his Shangri-la. Stephen and his team of pith-hatted brits were welcomed to the kingdom with a state welcome consisting of tabloids and rice field visits, to solve a problem not all fully understood; developing a rocket postal system in Sikkim.
 |
| Smith (seated on left) with British officials at Gangtok, 1935 |
26th March 1935 was a sunny day that at first sight could be mistaken for any other mid-mercury day in the blessed land. A court order summoned the Rinpoche, who declared that the stars had aligned for a holy deed. The green signal that the skeptics of the Airmail society had been looking for had arrived; the team collected the consignment from the laboratory and reached the launch site, an isolated mountain on the other side of lake Changu. The calculations were done and after much discourse, a suitable incline was arrived at by the team, "37 degrees 12 radians" said, Smith. Just as everyone took their places and eyed the rocket, an unusual guest arrived. Namgyal, being a man of science could not help but join his European counterparts in their adventure (Or misadventure for if the calculations were wrong) to do the unknown. A package consisting of the king's favorite cigars was added to the payload, a sign of approval and trust from the noble monarch. Smith handed over the fuse to the Chogyal as a sign of respect and insisted that he cut the ribbon on the project by lighting the fuse first. As everyone took their positions and prayed to whatever form of divinity they vested their faith in, the Chogyal lit the Silver nitrate glazed chord to set the rocket in motion. Some say that the lords above (particularly Padmasambhava, because Sikkim?) were the ones who pushed the rocket while others would attribute this to a rather less exciting 'Projectile motion', but the rocket found its way to the other end of the lake traveling a total of 10 Kilometers; The lunatic-turned-scientist had run his spell. The team of brits who were now national heroes were the talk of the town, they went on to conduct 16 such tests around the kingdom. Rocket mail was the standard adopted postal method for the landlocked kingdom, as the west watched in envy of a system that was way ahead of its time.
 |
| Chogyal Tashi Namgyal lighting the fuse, 1934 |
.jpg) |
| A Sikkim Durbar post sent via rocket mail, 1930s |
 |
| Sketch from His notebook depicting a path from Calcutta to Rangoon,1940s |
In the 21st century, rocket-post has placed itself in a pile of inventions that lie on the table of time that seem to have been forgotten. As airmail loses the practicality race to social media, Smith's ambitions now condense themselves into philatelic memorabilia that can be found catching dust in different corners of the world. However, the story of one of the greatest inventions in postal services and the struggle for it do tell a tale of something more than just pragmatism. The pursuit of one man towards his crazy idea and the conviction that he had in it, resonates with all the broken arrows that we have shot in the dark. In every corner of this world, there lives a Stephen Smith capable of transforming the way we look at the world, All he lacks is an ear that will listen.
No comments:
Post a Comment