Powering the Cloud with Atoms

1. The Cloud’s Insatiable Hunger: When AI Meets the Limits of Energy

The world today hums not with birdsong or rivers, but with servers. Step into the outskirts of Hyderabad or Navi Mumbai, and you might mistake the enormous, windowless warehouses for silent factories. Inside, thousands of servers blink like restless eyes, consuming electricity with an appetite so voracious that one modern data centre can demand as much energy as a small city.

This is the hidden cost of the cloud, a creature we call “virtual,” but which feeds like a beast on power grids. Artificial Intelligence, the brightest marvel of our age, has only made this hunger more ferocious. Training a single advanced AI model can consume more electricity than 100 Indian households use in a year. Multiply this across hundreds of models, across a thousand data centres, and you begin to see why energy planners speak of the cloud as both a marvel and a menace.

India, a rising digital superpower, stands right in the eye of this storm. With its booming IT services, mobile-first economy, and aspirations to be a global AI hub, the country is building data centres at breakneck speed. In 2024 alone, new capacity worth nearly 500 megawatts came online, and by 2030, India is expected to host one of the world’s largest data centre markets. But here lies the paradox: how do you keep these centres alive without choking the grid, without burning more coal, without deepening the very climate crisis that AI is supposed to help solve?

The sun and the wind, abundant as they are, stumble before this beast. Solar dies at dusk; wind falters when the air is still. Batteries help, but even the grandest storage systems cannot yet match the sleepless demand of AI. And coal, India’s legacy power source, is a shadow too dark to extend it already accounts for nearly 70% of electricity and has poisoned both air and conscience.

Somewhere in this silence, policymakers whisper of another answer: the atom. Not the towering reactors of the past that loom like steel fortresses, but their younger, smaller cousins, Small Modular Reactors (SMRs). Compact, flexible, designed like Lego-block power stations, they promise to sit quietly beside a data centre and feed it for decades, cleanly and reliably. Could these “pocket suns” be the key to powering the cloud without drowning the earth in smoke?

2. A New Atom in the Room: The Promise of Small Modular Reactors (SMRs)

To understand the allure of SMRs, one must first remember the story of nuclear power itself. Once hailed as mankind’s most dazzling invention, it promised boundless energy, electricity “too cheap to meter.” Yet history turned the promise bitter. Chernobyl, Fukushima, and Three Mile Island: these names carry fear like scars on the collective memory. Big nuclear plants became symbols of risk, delay, and spiralling costs.

SMRs, however, arrive with a different narrative. Imagine not one colossal reactor that takes 15 years and billions of dollars to build, but many smaller ones, each producing between 50 to 300 megawatts. They can be assembled in factories like aircraft engines, shipped to a site, and installed within a fraction of the time. Their smaller size allows advanced safety designs: passive cooling systems that work without human intervention, underground containment, and modular replacement parts.

Globally, countries are already racing ahead. The U.S. has NuScale, which received safety approval for its modular design. Russia has floated an SMR in the Arctic seas. Canada and China are both investing heavily. The International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) counts nearly 80 SMR designs under development worldwide. What unites them is the promise of flexibility: SMRs can power a city, a steel plant, or, in India’s case, an empire of servers.

For India, the attraction is not only technical but poetic. These reactors could stand where coal plants now belch smoke, feeding the same transmission lines with cleaner energy. They could be built close to data parks, ensuring stable electricity without burdening the wider grid. They could even, in the future, desalinate water, produce hydrogen, or replace diesel generators in remote corners of the country.

But above all, SMRs bring something that AI desperately needs: certainty. A data centre cannot pause at nightfall, cannot wait for the breeze. Its servers must hum, or entire financial systems, hospitals, and communications could falter. SMRs, with their 24/7 operation, answer that call like guardians in the dark.

And yet, the atom is never just about technology. It is about trust, politics, and vision. Which is why India’s own SMR story must be told not as a technical manual, but as a national gamble, a leap into the future that will test courage as much as engineering.

3. India’s Nuclear Turn: From Coal Shadows to Atomic Ambitions

India’s energy story is a tale of contradictions. On one hand, it is the world’s third-largest emitter of carbon dioxide, still shackled to coal. On the other hand, it has declared bold targets — net-zero by 2070, 50% renewable capacity by 2030, and a green hydrogen mission that could reshape industry. Somewhere in between lies nuclear, steady but subdued, contributing just around 3% of India’s electricity.

But winds are shifting. In the Union Budget of 2025-26, the government carved out a ₹20,000 crore allocation for a “Nuclear Energy Mission,” with SMRs as its beating heart. For the first time, New Delhi signalled not only ambition but urgency. The Department of Atomic Energy and NTPC, the giant state-run power company, have both been tasked with spearheading this frontier.

India’s designs are already on the drawing board:

BSMR-200, a 200 MWe Bharat Small Modular Reactor, built on domestic pressurized heavy water technology.
A 55 MWe version, targeted to be operational by 2033.
A 5 MWth high-temperature gas-cooled reactor, meant not for the grid but for producing hydrogen, the fuel of the future.

What makes this shift remarkable is not only the technology but the intent. India is hinting at allowing private and even foreign partnerships in SMRs, a radical departure from the decades-old doctrine of keeping nuclear under tight state monopoly. It is also exploring reforms to the contentious Civil Liability for Nuclear Damage Act, long seen as a barrier to global investment.

And the reason is clear: demand. AI data centres are not a distant dream; they are a present fire. Analysts estimate India’s data economy will be worth $1 trillion by 2030, and the server farms powering it could demand an additional 70–80 gigawatts of electricity. To put that in perspective: that is more than the current installed capacity of Australia.

Standing in the shadow of coal, India knows it cannot meet this hunger by burning more black rock. Neither can it leave its digital empire at the mercy of fickle winds. In this twilight, the atom glows with possibility. But possibility is not destiny. Whether India’s nuclear turn becomes a sunrise or another unfinished chapter depends on what happens in the decade ahead. The first sparks have been lit; the question now is whether they can be fanned into a flame strong enough to illuminate the cloud.

4. Data Centres as Digital Cities: A New Empire of Electricity

Imagine a city that never sleeps. Not because of nightlife, but because silence would mean collapse. That city is a data centre, only it does not have parks, bazaars, or schools. Its boulevards are rows of servers, its air is chilled not by monsoon winds but by industrial coolers. Its heartbeat is electricity.

By 2030, India is expected to host over 1,300 megawatts of operational data centre capacity, with growth concentrated in Mumbai, Chennai, Hyderabad, and NCR. Analysts compare these centres to “digital cities,” each serving millions of users who stream, shop, chat, and now, increasingly, train AI models.

But such cities cannot live on a fragile supply. Today, most Indian data centres rely on the national grid itself, a patchwork of coal-fired stations, renewable injections, and occasional blackouts. To shield themselves, companies build captive power plants, usually gas- or diesel-based. These are dirty, expensive, and unsustainable for a world trying to decarbonise.

Here enters the vision of SMRs as captive nuclear power plants. Instead of a diesel generator coughing black smoke in the basement, picture a compact nuclear unit humming quietly in a secure compound nearby, feeding clean electricity straight into the servers. Unlike a massive nuclear plant that must serve millions, this reactor is scaled to serve a single ecosystem. It is like commissioning a personal sun for your digital empire.

The concept is bold, but not unprecedented. In Canada, developers have floated the idea of SMRs serving industrial hubs. In the U.S., energy companies pitch them for steel plants. India could pioneer their use for data centres, marrying its IT crown jewel with nuclear innovation.

And the numbers demand it. Training one advanced AI model can consume up to 10 GWh of energy, enough to power 5,000 Indian homes for a year. Multiply that across thousands of models and millions of daily queries, and the pressure becomes seismic. SMRs, with their 24/7 reliability, offer a unique match: continuous loads for continuous demand.

Yet, here the story also sharpens. Because what promises stability may also introduce risks. Do we want nuclear reactors in the heart of our digital parks? Can India’s infrastructure handle the security, waste, and emergency planning that even small reactors demand? The metaphor of a “personal sun” is powerful, but suns are not toys; they must be handled with reverence and vigilance. The vision is dazzling, but the execution will decide whether it becomes a legacy or a liability.

5. Economics, Liability, and the Shadows of Trust

If SMRs were only about physics, India’s path would be smooth. But atoms live as much in the world of law, finance, and diplomacy as they do in reactors.

The Price Tag

Building an SMR is not cheap. While advocates argue modular construction will bring costs down, first-of-a-kind units often overshoot budgets. The NuScale project in the U.S., once celebrated as a breakthrough, saw costs balloon to $9 billion, causing backers to retreat. For India, where energy tariffs are fiercely competitive, this is a sobering warning. Can SMRs deliver electricity at ₹5 per unit when solar already sells for less than ₹3?

Liability and the Legacy of Bhopal

India’s nuclear policy is haunted by its past. The 1984 Bhopal gas tragedy left scars so deep that liability laws became iron chains. The Civil Liability for Nuclear Damage Act (2010) makes suppliers, not just operators, financially accountable for accidents, a clause that foreign vendors despise. Without reform, private investment in SMRs will remain a mirage.

Yet relaxing liability sparks fears of another Bhopal: Who pays if disaster strikes? Here lies the tightrope India must walk: balancing investor confidence with public safety, ensuring accountability without paralysing progress.

Trust Deficit

Beyond economics and law, there is the matter of public trust. Nuclear energy, despite its clean credentials, still evokes anxiety. Opposition can derail projects before they begin, as seen in Tamil Nadu’s Kudankulam protests. For SMRs, which may be placed closer to population centres or data hubs, this fear could multiply. Convincing citizens that a “small reactor” is safe requires more than glossy brochures; it requires genuine dialogue, transparency, and accountability.

The Human Question

Perhaps the greatest challenge is not technical but ethical. By tying nuclear power to AI data centres, are we prioritising the needs of machines over humans? Should atomic energy, with its heavy baggage of risk and waste, be devoted to keeping servers cool while villages nearby still lack reliable electricity?

This question cuts deep into the soul of policy. If SMRs are to gain legitimacy, they must serve not only the digital economy but also the public good. Villages, hospitals, water systems, these must also taste the atom’s light, not just the glittering towers of the AI cloud.

India’s nuclear gamble, then, is not just an engineering challenge. It is a moral test: can it balance ambition with responsibility, speed with safety, innovation with justice?

6. Public Perception: Between Radiance and Fear

Every nation that has embraced nuclear power has also wrestled with a paradox: the atom glows with promise, but it also casts long shadows. In India, this paradox is sharp.

Ask a villager near Kudankulam, and they will recall the protests, the barricades, the fear of displacement. Ask an urban student in Bengaluru, and they may speak of climate change, praising nuclear’s carbon-free glow. Ask a farmer in Jharkhand, and the scars of uranium mining may come alive in his words. This fractured perception matters. SMRs are small, but the word “nuclear” is never small. It carries Hiroshima, Fukushima, and Chernobyl in its syllables. For many, no amount of scientific reassurance can silence these ghosts.

And yet, India cannot afford paralysis. If citizens mistrust the atom, projects stall, costs soar, and innovation withers. The path forward must not be secrecy, but conversation. Town halls, transparent data, and environmental assessments shared in simple language. These are not luxuries, but necessities. For SMRs to light India’s digital future, they must first light trust in its people’s hearts. Otherwise, every reactor, however small, will remain politically radioactive.

7. Geopolitics, Technology, and the Hunger of AI

The SMR story is not confined within India’s borders. It unfolds on the global chessboard.

Geopolitics of Atoms

Russia’s Rosatom markets floating SMRs, already deployed in the Arctic. The U.S. pushes NuScale and X-energy designs. China races ahead with state-backed prototypes. If India wishes to ride this wave, it cannot remain a mere spectator. But entering this club means choosing partners carefully, negotiating technology transfers, and safeguarding strategic autonomy. Nuclear deals are never just about kilowatts; they are about alliances, diplomacy, and leverage.

Technology Crossroads

SMRs promise modularity, faster builds, and potentially safer designs. But they also risk locking India into unproven technologies. Should India import turnkey reactors? Or should it nurture indigenous designs through BARC and NPCIL, leveraging decades of research? The choice will shape not only energy policy but national sovereignty in technology.

The Hunger of AI

Looming over all of this is a peculiar truth: SMRs are being discussed not primarily to power villages, but to feed artificial intelligence. The irony is staggering. Machines that mimic human thought are demanding so much energy that humans may consider bending the atom for them.

One training run for an advanced AI model can emit as much carbon as five cars over their entire lifetimes. If left unchecked, AI’s appetite could deepen the climate crisis it claims to help solve. SMRs, then, are framed as saviours, clean, steady, tireless.

But the moral question lingers: is it justifiable to pour nuclear energy into silicon brains while millions of human children still do homework under candlelight? This is not merely about technology. It is about what kind of civilisation India wants to become. One where machines thrive while humans wait, or one where innovation uplifts both?

8. The Verdict of Tomorrow: Between Promise and Peril

When history looks back on the 2020s, perhaps it will not only see pandemics, wars, and AI breakthroughs. Perhaps it will also see a moment when India stood at a crossroads, weighing a new pact with the atom.

The story of Small Modular Reactors in India is not just an engineering debate. It is a meditation on scale, ambition, and conscience. On one hand lies promise: cities powered without coal smoke, data centres humming cleanly, villages finally tasting reliable electricity, India standing tall among nuclear innovators. SMRs could be the quiet revolution that allows India to balance growth with sustainability. On the other hand, lies peril: ballooning costs, unresolved liability, public mistrust, and the unsettling ethics of bending the atom to serve machines before men. A misstep here could mean not just financial loss but moral erosion where the needs of algorithms outweigh the needs of people.

India’s decision, then, is not about whether it can build SMRs. It is about why and for whom it builds them. If SMRs become only captive suns for data empires, they will burn as monuments of inequality. But if they become shared beacons, lighting hospitals, schools, farms, and cities alike, then India will have truly written a chapter of justice in the atomic age. The atom is neither friend nor foe. It is a mirror. It shows us who we are, and who we wish to become.

Will India use this mirror to gaze only at glowing screens, or will it use it to illuminate lives long kept in the dark? The verdict of tomorrow depends not on reactors alone, but on the courage, clarity, and compassion with which we wield them. And as whispered rivers and forgotten songs remind us, power, whether of cinema, of words, or of atoms, becomes eternal only when it serves humanity.

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