In Quiet Glory: ISRO, DRDL & NDDB, Institutions That Shine Without Shouting

There are some institutions in India whose accomplishments are so profound, and their culture so rarefied, that even attempting to describe them feels like carving one's initials into the face of a granite mountain—audacious and perhaps unnecessary. And yet, now and then, the spirit compels expression, if only to pay homage to those few luminous outliers that shine in our national landscape otherwise muddied by mediocrity. In a country where governance is often held hostage by self-serving civil servants, public sector undertakings trudge along saddled by an army of uninspired managers, engineers and accountants, academia is adrift in a sea of average professors, research is plagued by dispirited scientists, and the Indian Railways still lumbers on like a feudal relic—it is these islands of excellence that blaze like beacons in the fog.

In recent months, I had the good fortune of being invited to speak on Atmanirbhar Bharat and transformational innovation by the National Dairy Development Board (NDDB) in Anand and the Defence Research and Development Laboratory (DRDL) in Hyderabad. Earlier, I had addressed the Defence Research & Development Organization (DRDO) in Delhi on their Technology Day. It felt a bit like taking coal to Newcastle— what could someone like me — a regular railwayman who just happened to lead a team building a novel train — really have to say to a group of such brilliant minds? Whatever I may have imparted was incidental; what truly mattered was how much I gained—these encounters brought me face-to-face with institutions that breathe excellence.

At several of these events, I was also fortunate to interact with some of the outstanding minds from the Indian Space Research Organization (ISRO)—those who helped script India’s lunar and Martian odysseys through missions like Chandrayaan and Mangalyaan. These were not ordinary meet-and-greet affairs, but immersive moments where one glimpsed the quiet steel behind India's cosmic aspirations.

Having spent a lifetime trudging through the slush of Indian bureaucracy, I am intimately familiar with its peculiar pathologies—lethargy dressed as deliberation, turf wars masquerading as institutional rivalry, verbosity elevated to virtue, and the ever-looming fog of status quoism. It is against this tired, over-familiar backdrop that institutions like ISRO, DRDL/DRDO, and NDDB appear not merely exceptional—but near-mythical.

And yet, the men and women who steer these institutions are not seekers of limelight. Despite placing India in the firmament of global technological achievement, they remain models of quiet resolve. Whether it is the Mecca of missile systems crafting instruments of war with divine precision, ISRO unfolding the nation's galactic dreams with moon-kissed landings and Martian handshakes, or NDDB gently powering a white revolution that turned villages into self-sustained communities—what binds them all is their refusal to beat their own drums.

So, what makes them different?

Is it that these organizations have been spared the tentacles of Indian babudom—a beast that feeds on the host but never nourishes the purpose of its existence? Certainly.

Is it their culture? That elusive, all-important culture of “how things are done here”—how people are treated, how work is approached, how crises are navigated. Culture is not written down—it is passed on, like folklore—through stories, behaviors, and above all, by watching how leaders lead. These institutions have inherited and nurtured a robust culture, handed down by visionaries like, to name a few, Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam, Dr. Satish Dhawan, and Dr. Verghese Kurien. Absolutely.

Is it the quiet pride they carry—devoid of arrogance? A noticeable integrity and openness? Spaces where young and old are both heard, where ideas are tested, where leaders listen more than they preach, and where honesty isn’t ornamental but operational? Unquestionably.

Or is it that merit is not a ceremonial word but the engine of action?

Perhaps it is all of this—and more. I do not claim to have cracked the code. I am no management guru. My insights are those of a curious outsider, charmed and puzzled by the rare blend of discipline and imagination, of rigour and commitment. But one common trait stood out above all else, and it deserves a spotlight.

Their humility.

It is staggering. What I first mistook as magnanimity in welcoming someone like me—an outsider with a merely a modest railway tale—turned out to be simply who they are. They wear their accomplishments lightly, like a shawl of soft wool, never as a crown of gold. Their campuses do not hum with self-importance; they pulse with quiet purpose.

It is a refreshing contrast to the relentless noise elsewhere. We are otherwise bombarded by a ceaseless din of self-congratulatory hype. Announcements precede action. Pilot projects are flagged off before prototypes exist. Acronyms are invented before blueprints are drawn. Vanity routinely masquerades as vision. In contrast, these institutions follow what one might call institutional dharma—they do not chase headlines, they create them. Their press releases follow achievement, not precede it.

They do not rise in pretentions and claim that our Vande Bharat is the equal of Japan’s Bullet Trains, whose legacy spans more than half a century. They do not declare our layout of concrete strips superior to the American interstates. They do not shout from rooftops that they have bettered NASA or outpaced the THAAD or Arrow systems, or boast about building the world’s greatest dairy economy, even as they help other countries replicate our Operation Flood and rural rejuvenation.

These men and women are not powered by applause or social media trends. They are powered by a silent commitment to purpose. Borrowing—loosely but lovingly—from Winston Churchill: “They are all very modest men and women. Although, indeed, they have a lot to be immodest about.”

They are perhaps among the rare few who seem to have internalized the Fool’s timeless advice in Shakespeare’s King Lear, “… Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest…”. They quietly go about their work sincerely and efficiently and make us proud. We can all learn from these institutions. Not just how to build rockets, missiles, or milk cooperatives—but how to build trust, character, and competence. The tools are available. The blueprints are in front of us. All we need now is willingness to learn and the pride to deliver.

As I walked through their campuses and interacted with them to absorb their clarity of purpose, I was reminded of Portia’s timeless words in The Merchant of Venice: “How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.”

My visits were humbling. My interactions, inspiring. I am left with reverence, and above all, gratitude.

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