High above the blue marble, where nations blur into continents, Rakesh Sharma gifted India an unforgettable symphony. Belting out ‘Sare Jahan Se Accha’, he turned the Salyut 7 station into a stage for national pride during his 1984 mission.
This wasn’t improvisation. The India-Soviet pact birthed the venture, with Sharma chosen for his piloting prowess. Months in Star City’s isolation chambers prepared him for Soyuz T-11’s thunderous launch. Orbit achieved, perfection docked with the mothership.
Scientific pursuits dominated: vestibular function tests combating space motion sickness, material exposure to cosmic rays. Sharma’s prism camera captured spectral data over India, aiding agriculture forecasts. Every experiment advanced Indo-Soviet science ties.
Indira Gandhi’s voice pierced the static: ‘How’s India looking?’ Sharma’s riposte, Iqbal’s lines delivered flawlessly, went viral pre-social media. Schoolchildren memorized it; politicians quoted it. Pride swelled as Sharma embodied India’s ascent.
Orbital life pulsed with rhythm. Crew briefings in Russian, meals from toothpaste tubes, hygiene with no-rinse wipes. Sharma innovated, using bungee cords for resistance training. He even radioed birthday wishes to family, bridging 400 km gaps.
Descent was dramatic—parachutes billowing over Kazakhstan. Hero’s welcome followed: parades, medals, memoirs. Sharma’s post-retirement life stayed grounded, consulting for aviation until health sidelined him.
As Gaganyaan looms, Sharma’s echo persists. His song proved Indians thrive anywhere—even among stars. In space, no borders divide; only human spirit unites. India’s first spaceman showed the world our melody knows no bounds.