Turning atoms into bombs has consequences—at least that’s what the international community would have us believe. Which is why it seems puzzling that India’s public display of nuclear prowess 10 years ago has been of no long-term detriment to its global popularity. The five tests India conducted at Pokhran in May 1998 might have met with immediate international condemnation, but over the course of a decade wrist-slapping has turned into handholding. In the midst of a new liaison with the United States, India has continued to enjoy rapid economic advancement, increasing international influence, and recognition as a rising global power.

The story of nuclear India’s success is important to understand, since India’s pathway to international acclaim via the bomb could otherwise appear worthy of emulation. In an era when the “illegitimate” development of weapons of mass destruction is the ultimate taboo, the story of how India has managed to play with atoms and not get burnt represents a crucial exception.

India’s actions immediately after the 1998 tests—its declaration of a range of self-imposed constraints on its nuclear capabilities—earned international recognition and trust because of the country’s previously enduring commitment to disarmament, remarkable history of nuclear restraint, and decades of promoting a world order based on moral and peaceful conduct in international relations. In many ways the tests were an unfitting epilogue to the history of India’s solid opposition to the use, and possession, of nuclear weapons.

In the years after Independence, India showcased its commitment to global nuclear disarmament in a range of policy pronouncements and diplomatic initiatives. It was the first country to advocate a ban on nuclear testing and proposed a series of treaties related to nuclear non-use and non-proliferation, most of which were rejected or ignored by the existing  nuclear weapons states.

Yet at the same time India remained a non-signatory to what it saw as an unjust and unethical Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT)—one which maintained the status quo of the permanent nuclear powers club without committing its members to disarm. It also steadily developed its nuclear know-how in a display of technological dexterity that hoped to foster national pride rather than international aggression.

India’s careful campaign of nuclear ambiguity—of not testing, but not signing away the right to test, either—was complicated by the “Peaceful Nuclear Explosion” (PNE) of 1974. An early and modest demonstration of India’s nuclear capability that was less a security strategy than a domestic political palliative, the PNE sat uncomfortably with the strict abjuration of nuclear weapons that came both before and after.

By the late 1990s India’s moralistic but precarious position on the nuclear fence had reached tipping point. The indefinite extension of the NPT and pressure to sign the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty had narrowed the nuclear window of opportunity to the point of now-or-never. Rather than sign a test-ban treaty that privileged existing nuclear powers and was detrimental to India’s security, the only other option was to test, this time decisively.

Yet the tests did not come without assurances. The BJP government’s unilateral moratorium on further testing, its declared commitment to no-first-use, and its assurance that non-nuclear weapons states had nothing to fear from India’s bomb went far beyond the precedent set by members of the existing nuclear club. Moreover, these promises of good behaviour rang true because they found an echo in India’s long tradition of resistance to the aggressive logic of international power politics.

In the history of India’s rise to the upper echelons of global society, the tests of May 1998 will likely prove the decisive turning point. Not only is India now firmly on the world’s radar, but the post-Pokhran row triggered an Indo-U.S. diplomatic-marathon that has vastly improved India’s relations with America. Somewhat paradoxically, the civil nuclear agreement they signed in 2006, though yet to be implemented, allows India access to U.S. nuclear technology, despite India’s continued rejection of both the NPT and CTBT. This clear dismissal of the existing rules of international non-proliferation would be a legitimate cause for concern if it carried the message that rogue nuclear states can emerge unscathed—and even benefit—from breaking the no-test taboo.

Yet there are plenty of reasons to see India as a unique case. Nuclear success comes no doubt more easily to an emerging economic power such as India, well worth wooing to balance a worrisome China. But when atoms explode, trust must follow. India’s history of engagement with the disarmament issue is not short on moral capital.

In the ten years since the reverberations of the 1998 tests, commentators and scholars across the world have spent much time and effort explaining India’s “pathway to Pokhran”. Over time, the story of India’s commitment to disarmament has, somewhat inaccurately, become the story of India’s acquisition of nuclear weapons.

A decade later, domestic ambivalence over India’s decision to “go nuclear” abides. While the UPA leadership was not prepared to celebrate this week, the Times of India announced that plans are afoot to set up a war museum in the Pokhran range. The distinction between the two forms of commemoration is clearly a delicate one. For the rest of the world, the 10-year anniversary passed by practically unnoticed. It seems India has managed to have its atomic cake and eat it, too.