Wrote thus the author of probably the first work on the history of science in any language, in his Țabaqāt al-Umam. And he was right in his estimation. Indian society, from a deep distant past, has nurtured a thinking civilization. It has never lived an isolated existence, remained largely plural, and seldom displayed xenophobic tendencies. In his Brihat Samhita, the astronomer Varahmihir (6th century AD) declared the mulechchha (unclean) Yavanas (Ionians or Greeks) to be as honourable as Hindu rishis (sages) because the science of astronomy was firmly established among them. Even in the most ancient Vedic times when knowledge was expressed through mantras and sutras (incantations and aphorisms), one can find not only a high philosophical tradition but also some practical geometrical knowledge. Sulba-sutras, for example, provided a range of geometrical knowledge required for the Vedic altar-builder in a systematic form. One who was well-versed in that science was called samkhyajna (expert in numbers), parimanajna (expert in measuring), and sulba-vid (expert of the sulba).

From numerous historical examples, one can safely surmise that the techno-scientific tradition in India has largely been a synthetic one, continuously evolving as a result of each politico-cultural interaction with the outside world and social change within the region. In pre-modern times, India was known for its contribution to astronomy, medicine, and mathematics. In terms of techniques and technologies, metallurgy, textile, and structural engineering stand as examples of India’s competence and innovativeness. It is true that India could not expand its knowledge base like post-Renaissance Europe did.

The last quarter of the 19th century was simply remarkable. The seeds that had been sown earlier were beginning to sprout. A new middle class was finding its feet. New aspirations were in the air. The middle class was making new demands, even though India was now being controlled directly and more firmly by the Government in Britain. There were new schools, colleges, the telegraph, more railway lines, printing and publications, and so on, no doubt. Yet the flip side was heavier, for example, the economic drain, famines, severe pestilence, epidemics, and so on. It was during these difficult times that nationalism began to take root, and gradually flowered into a full-fledged national movement, not only for independence but reconstruction. It was also during this period that those who were to play a great role in different fields of life in the next century were maturing. The quest for identity had sharpened.

In terms of scientific knowledge, this quest had found early expression in the establishment of the Indian Association for the Cultivation of Science (IACS) by an eminent doctor, Mahendralal Sircar (1833–1904).

During the 19th century, the British colonial records and tracts talked about improvement, for example, ‘the moral and material improvement of the natives’. In the next century, the discourse changed to development. A very interesting and ambiguous term, it is still in vogue. Is development an ideology, is it growth, or a process, or a tool to achieve certain ends? Whichever way one looks at it, the economic parameters based on technological sophistication and scientific research weigh heavier. The buzzword now is sustainable development. Techno-scientific knowledge, without doubt, occupies a central role in this discourse. M. Visvesvaraya (1860–1962), engineer extraordinaire, was probably the first Indian to talk about planned development in 1918. He had built the Krishna Raja Sagara dam in Mysore with remarkable tenacity. He gave the slogan, ‘Industrialize or Perish’. Years before him, a British official, Alfred Chatterton had pleaded for and written pamphlets and books on the use of machines, small industries, irrigation, and so on.

This was the proud and justified boast of a nation which had helped produce the scientific and industrial revolutions of the 17th and 18th centuries, and had almost simultaneously embarked upon colonizing large parts of the world. Colonial expansion required knowledge of the terrain, its people, its resources, and so on. No domination could be established without this knowledge. And this knowledge could not be obtained without scientific explorations and surveys. Next to the guns and ships, these were the most potent tools in the hands of a colonizing power. Through them it could afford to know unknown people, chart untrodden paths, and estimate local resources. So, surveyors marched by the side of conquering armies. Topographical surveys had military origins and this relationship was maintained throughout (India got its first civilian Surveyor General only in 1991!). Similarly, meteorological observations and data were important for a seafaring colonizer and an agro-based colony. Geological surveys came late. They started as a part of topographical explorations but as British rule stabilized, they acquired their own identity and played a major role in the economic exploitation of the country. But botanical explorations had started much earlier, in the 18th century itself, in some cases, even before. After all, the colonies were called plantations; they traded in plant products, and had a lot to do with botanical knowledge.

In Chapter 1 we have seen that pre-colonial India was no tabula rasa. It had a vigorous tradition at least in the realms of mathematics, astronomy, and medicine. But gradual colonization made a big dent. It brought forth a massive cultural collision which influenced profoundly the cognitive and material existence of both the colonizer and the colonized. This encounter was initially disturbing, even agonizing. Gradually, relations stabilized and the colonized recipients started examining what was living and what was dead in their system, and, under the new circumstances, what to accept and what not. A new stage was thus set at the end of the 18th century.

One Mirza Abu Talib visited England at the turn of the century, and wrote glowingly about the literary societies, theatres, mills, iron foundries, and the hydraulic machines that he saw there. Two Parsee visitors, Jahangir Nowrojee and Hirjeebhoy Merwanjee, devoted a full chapter to ‘scientific institutions’ in their travelogue.

The processes for securing funds to build and operate ALMA are presented in this chapter for Europe, Japan, and the United States, the latter being the most problematic, requiring the intervention of a US Senator. The existential threat posed by a cost overrun and how that was resolved is described.

The lengthy planning of the Millimeter Array is set out in this chapter, leading to the proposal to the NSF for its detailed technical development and construction. The proposal's review and plan for design and development are presented.

The construction of ALMA on its remote site is described in this chapter. The relationship between ALMA and the local indigenous communities is presented. The narrative ends with the inauguration ceremony.

The first chapter presents the discovery of the galactic interstellar medium of gas and dust. The discovery of interstellar carbon monoxide is described and the implication thereof for the study of the formation of stars is explained. The race to maintain primacy in the burgeoning new field of interstellar molecular spectroscopy leads to a proposal for the United States to build a 25 m diameter telescope.