Many believe that “Make in India” is a new concept. But in reality, its roots go back to the Swadeshi Movement during the colonial era. The difference is that indigenous production against imperial interests was thoroughly discouraged. Later, in the 1970s, a similar vision of make in India was reinforced through import substitution policies. This policy directive aimed to reduce dependence on foreign goods and strengthen domestic industries. The initiative was, however, without a catchy slogan.

Behind the import substitution policy, the most potent driving force was the acute foreign exchange shortage. With limited reserves, India had little choice but to reduce dependence on imports and push for domestic production, even if it meant operating within a highly controlled and bureaucratic framework. Those were different times, marked by the rigid grip of the ‘Licence Raj’ and stringent price controls. The economy’s commanding heights belonged to the government, with heavy industries under state ownership. For private enterprises, every installation of plant and machinery had to adhere strictly to the terms of their industrial license.

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Adding to this restrictive environment was the Monopolies and Restrictive Trade Practices (MRTP) Act of 1969, a robust regulatory force designed to prevent economic concentration and curb monopolistic, restrictive, and unfair trade practices. While the objective of the MRTP was to ensure that manufacturers and traders did not get together and unduly increase prices monopolistically, the bureaucracy made it so stringent that large industries hesitated to document the proceedings of their collective discussions on solutions to their challenges.

The minutes of the talks had to be drafted strategically. Thus, introduced to ensure fair competition, the MRTP soon became a tool to discourage large-scale investments and technological advancements by companies, reinforcing inefficiencies in the industrial sector. The act also limited foreign investment, as multinational corporations were subjected to stringent controls.

At that time, in national laboratories, researchers mainly pursued their academic interests using the government’s resources. The government, therefore, pressurised the scientists to develop technologies for commercialisation and earn revenue for their respective institutions. The drive was to overcome shortages by applying those technologies. Licenses for setting up industries with those technologies were readily granted to the MSMEs. Unfortunately, the technologies developed at national laboratories were based on lab experiments, and most failed commercially.

As a result, there were acute shortages of basic chemicals and crucial intermediates for pharmaceuticals, dyestuffs, etc. Even in the face of a difficult situation in the supply chain, the License Raj and the MRTP conjugated to restrict production over installed capacity in large industries in the name of monopoly. The policies also aimed to cut luxury consumption. White goods remained in short supply, and a long waiting period to buy them led to black marketing. There was a premium on getting a two-wheeler; the waiting period often used to be two to three years for a car.

Once, I had the opportunity to talk to the CEO of an international water cooler of a more extraordinary brand. Most of those were lying inoperative wherever I went. So I asked him why the quality of his product was so poor. He said, my friend, you must wait two years to own that product. We have no spare time to improve our quality in the face of such demand. In these circumstances, there used to be a craze for smuggled imported goods. In the 1970s, I worked for an association of chemical manufacturers.

To encourage Indian entrepreneurs to produce basic chemicals and intermediates in the country, imports of most chemicals were either restricted or banned. The MSMEs that claimed to manufacture these items were unable to meet the requirements in terms of quantities and, most often, quality. There used to be tremendous problems in the supply chain as the local manufacturers were yet to perfect their technology and were facing teething problems. Our association represented chemical producers and those that used intermediate chemicals to manufacture dyes, pharmaceuticals, pesticides, and other formulated products. I visited the emerging manufacturing capacity to vouch for what the manufacturers claimed.

My role also involved extensive interaction with industry leaders to assess supply chain issues and engagements with emerging MSME entrepreneurs to evaluate their manufacturing capacity and quality standards to balance demand and supply requirements. Based on these insights, the association made representations to the Director General for Technical Development, and our recommendations carried significant weight. There were, however, delays in implementing those recommendations.

The government had set up the National Research Development Corporation, the central agency to market the know-how developed at national laboratories, for which no takers existed. The CTO of the corporation was a couple of years senior to me at the IIT, Kharagpur. I knew him well, and he frankly told me that he himself was not confident about the outcome at the national laboratories. He had, however, been at the job since the Minister thought otherwise and had tremendous confidence in his skills to market technology. In this scenario, I found the Director of the National Chemical Laboratory at Poona, Dr B D Tilak, a down-to-earth person.

The forward-looking person that he was, he had established a pilot plant at the NCL to demonstrate the potential of commercialisation of technologies developed at his unit. He was instrumental in commercialising a few technologies for producing basic chemicals at Hindustan Organic Chemicals Ltd at Rasayani, near Bombay. His approach was transforming the laboratory. Historically, the NCL was established in 1950 to develop chemical technologies since a number of other laboratories were carrying out research in basic chemistry. However, Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru invited Professor James McBain, a renowned Physical Chemist, to become its first Director (1950-52), followed by Professor George Finch, a reputed theoretical chemist (1952-57).

These two unconventional appointments ignored the candidature of Dr K Venkataraman, a father figure in the development of technology for the indigenous dyestuff industry. He was the Director of the University Department of Chemical Technology at Matunga, near Bombay. His appointment as the third Director set the path of the NCL on a different course. Dr. Venkataraman (1957–1966) redefined NCL’s mandate, steering its focus toward applied research in organic chemistry and industrial applications. His successor, Dr. B. D. Tilak (1966–1978), further reinforced this vision, ensuring that NCL’s research efforts were closely aligned with the needs of India’s emerging indigenous chemical industry. Their leadership transformed NCL into a pivotal institution supporting industrial growth through scientific innovation.

At that time, I was only half Dr. Tilak’s age, yet my experience in working with chemical manufacturers made me a valued resource in his mission. He regularly sought my insights on enhancing the commercial potential of technologies under development at NCL and identifying prospective buyers for these innovations. What stood out most about him was his hands-on approach. He never hesitated to visit potential buyers, no matter how small their enterprises were. His dedication to bridging the gap between research and industry was genuinely remarkable.

With Sir Robert Robinson, Nobel Laureate and President of the Royal Society, and Professor R. B. Woodward, Nobel Laureate at Harvard University, Dr. Tilak (see photograph) had the privilege of engaging with some of the greatest minds in organic chemistry – an opportunity exceedingly rare in that era. As the Director of NCL, he had access to exceptional resources and the intellectual depth to make groundbreaking contributions to synthesising novel molecules. He could have secured his place among the world’s most renowned organic chemists had he pursued those avenues.

Yet, Dr Tilak chose a different path. He sacrificed personal ambition and prestige to serve the nation, dedicating himself to the growth of India’s chemical industry. His contributions laid the foundation for industrial research and technological selfreliance. Yet, his name remains unrecognised, beyond those who worked closely with him. Today, if I mention “Bal Dattatreya Tilak,” even the most accomplished academicians in chemistry might ask, “Bal, who?” (The writer is a chemist who specialised in research management.)