Friday, 3 January 2014

Sensual......



The Cinnamon Peeler


If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
and leave the yellow bark dust
on your pillow.
Your breasts and shoulders would reek
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbor to your hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler’s wife.
I could hardly glance at you
before marriage
never touch you
– your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
I buried my hands
in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar,
helped the honey gatherers…
When we swam once
I touched you in water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
You climbed the bank and said
this is how you touch other women
the grasscutter’s wife, the lime burner’s daughter.
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume.
and knew
what good is it
to be the lime burner’s daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in an act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of scar.
You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
peeler’s wife. Smell me.

Michael Ondaatje
 

 

Tuesday, 8 October 2013

Anything but love !

She had a three word reply for my three word proposal, I went down on my knees, raised a rose and said "I love you", she just stood up and said "WTF!"

What I had for her was not love, love is just a three alphabet word, what I had for her was a rainbow. I have seen just seven colors in a rainbow, but I know there are other hues and shades without names. Colors beyond ultraviolet and infrared, colors without ASCII or HTML codes, colors that no one has ever seen or imagined and no one would, colors not red enough to be red or green enough to be green or blue enough to be blue, colors our rods and cones would never distinguish for one another, colors more soothing than yellow or more natural than green, colors more seducing than red or more irritating than purple, colors without any pattern cast into the expanse of sky, colors that would never show up, colors that would stick to your pupil and reflect back from everything. I don't know how many of them, but they are all there, lost in the spectrum.

The words love and rainbow are abomination for such things, and so are any other words, what I had for her was anything but love !

Friday, 19 July 2013

Ramlila in Indian Politics

If defeating Ravan was not enough, the influence Ram exercises over  Indian Politics, a couple of epochs after his time, surely establishes him as an incarnate of Lord Vishnu. At times I pity the great poet Valmiki for his painstaking efforts to pen down Rams character, propriety and valor in war, for he could have written a lot more about the sacred birthplace, describing it down to its very dimensions, texture of the walls, its vastu and all, that could have at least served as a blueprint for the reconstruction.

Reconstruction is something our politicians care about, but not of morality, or virtue or even piety for that matter, but of an edifice, that devoid of former would serve no better than an empty vestibule meant only to collect votes every five years ! Then there are those who pretend to stand guard of secular values, and such is there secularism that they are actually widening the communal divide with all their hullabaloo. None of them believe in compassion, if communal forces extort votes in name of religion, the fear mongering, pseudo-seculars do that in name of protection. 

Law has already  taken its course on the issue, and it is, at this point, irrelevant how much conviction any political outfit holds for building Ram Mandir. But, their motives go beyond just flaming communal fire, for they know that we have come to an understanding whether it be Godhra or Kashmir, violence savors blood of common man only. The motive is to derail Indian politics, to sabotage those who want to raise real issues, to keep us stuck back and busy in fight for survival. There are more pressing and persuasive issues like corruption, economic growth, law and order, safety of women, foreign policies etc, but they wont get a say, cause they are not bare necessities of life, somehow, even a public discussion on theses issues could be empowering to the common man and exposing to our politicians ! 

Some would say that in a country where 33% of population live below poverty line and 50 billionaires control 20% of GDP, elections could be fought and won only upon issues of basic living needs. They don't want you to see the nexus between poverty and corruption, or between corruption and emasculated law and order, or any such nexus. They don't want you to see that poverty exist at first place because someone corrupt at the top ate your share of national income, because he had no fear of law and so on.

Also, our political class is so pusillanimous, they know fighting elections on contemporary issues could back fire, for neither do they have any expertise at deceiving the educated middle class nor ready made excuses for failing willingly. They are so apt at making a fool of naive masses over roti, kapda aur makan that they have become myopic ! 

The Ravan of Indian politics is thousand headed, furthermore, he is already festering the courtroom of Ayodhya in a shabby disguise. Some say "The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was to convince the world he didn't exist", alas we have an even smarter devil who pit us not in name of devil but in name of God !

Wednesday, 12 June 2013

Creepers on Concrete............

1/3

He is taller than her, much taller and strong. She clinched his arm with an elbow warped around it and the other hand gripping it hard. I don't know if he is hilarious or what, but he makes her smile, that same smile designed to overwhelm logic and rationale. Often he hurls that arm, tossing her away, and suddenly catches her with the other one round her waist. I haven't talked to him, we are not acquainted at all, but I see that look on his face, the look of a man who holds his most desirable thing close to his heart, so close, almost rolled up his sleeves, like a creeper clambering along a slender trunk. But creepers do not grow on concrete floors, I have long been a silent tree, tall and my bark dark, rich and coarse, doled out fruits of smiles to the company I keep, and shade of sincerity to those who trust me. The idea of a junglee banyan growing on concrete seems vaguely comprehensible, but creepers only grown on moist soft humus, their greenery, much lighter a shade, alike succulent mellow stems they wrap in and out. They make their host bend and twirl by their weight, unlike dark coarse stock, too rigid to bend or too coarse to embrace.

Hall 4 Quad, around 9PM,

Naveen: Tharki sale, kahan bhi kha le ke use hi dekhta rahega !
Me: I don't like this Paneer Butter Masala, tastes like the same        mess food.
Naveen: Hall 4 canteen was your idea......
Check out the girl in red.
Me: The one with the creepy guy to my right?
Naveen: Do these girls have some special talents for zeroing out creepy guys and getting along with them or is there something more to it.........
Me: You would have got one that way :P
Naveen: You know what is creepy, you ogling the girl in green for last 10 mins :P
Me: You don't get it, do you? She is the one dude!
Naveen: WTF, the one?

Tuesday, 19 February 2013

We Were Soldiers !

This is an account of of the 1973 war with Pakistan by an IAF Pilot, written sometime back in 2009. It vividly bring out a soldiers perspective about war,humanity,fear and thrill. In the later part the soldier comments on ongoing corruption in defense and all other sectors of Indian Governance.
My respects and tributes to the brave ones!


Day One

CO came to our rooms the previous evening with the news that the 'Balloon had gone up' in the western sector so we were 'On' the next morning. Briefing at 5 am. Told us he would be at the Bar later to ensure nobody had more than 3 drinks and it would be closed on time. I thought some of us may not be there the next evening but quickly banished the thought.

After the Met briefing we got the FLOT (Forward Line Of Own Troops) briefing by the GLO (Army Major) to ensure we engaged targets only beyond that. To our utter dismay one senior guy questioned the GLO's brief by quoting BBC news, betraying his anxiety, while the others were putting up a brave face.

After that we checked that all Indian tags on under clothes etc were removed. Then we were given a revolver each with 12 rounds and a Bangla Deshi flag which was supposed to be shown to the Mukti Bahani if shot down. It would get us help. We also got a money belt with 200 Paki rupees.

I flew two missions the first day which were a life changing experience. I found my anxiety vanished when my engine roared to life. The best part was firing a long burst at the Lal Minir Hat Control tower. Boss shouted 'Good Burst Laddie' as the glass shattered. It was like throwing a glass on the wall in the bar.

We lost two A/C and one pilot Andre D'Costa.

Guptaji had his hydraulics shot up and a single out board drop tank hang up, so had to eject overhead at 10G. It was like a demo ejection. In the evening we brought Sandra (Mrs D'Costa ) and the kids to the mess and clumsily tried to give them hope. His body was never found in the marshy area where he went down.

Someone put on the Pak radio news on a transistor and the announcer said that Pak troops had reached Siliguri. I remember telling the Barman Dey "Dekho bahar koi paki officers ghoom raha hai to andar drink ke liye bulao"

Tomorrow will be another day, as it sunk in to live from day to day.

Day Two

The second day started early too. I was to continue in the same formation led by the boss Bunny Coelho. Our deputy leader Guptaji who was shot down, on day one, was replaced as he was hurt from the ejection.
Our targets were Ferries and bridges. No 'Air Opposition' was expected as Dacca and other bases were subjected to a severe pounding and neutralized on the first day itself. We later learned that there was no credible Air Power retained to defend against IAF strikes. It was said that the few pilots left, fled to W-Pak via Burma. Under this 'Favourable Air Situation' the Army I believe made a beeline for Dacca skirting all resistance en-route and moving by day light too.

The fire power of the Hunter's 30mm x 4 Aden guns using HE ammo (not used before in practice firing on the Range) was deadly. When I fired a 3 to 4 second burst on train nothing happened for a sec and then the bogie just blew off the rails. Why was this train moving about in the day? By the time we swung around for the second pass, we drew heavy small arms fire. Some bullet holes under wing but not in any critical area.

So this was a troop train needing to move urgently enough, to risk day movement.

Another unforgettable sad sight was the masses of people scrambling for cover if by chance we flew over a refugee camp (there were many near the border).To see this mass of humanity trying to outrun a fighter, told it's own story. Perhaps to these hapless people the sound and sight of a screaming jet was associated with the imminence of death being rained on them. We would waggle wings to show our friendly status.

Another rather funny, somehow encouraging sight would be the DSC guards, patrolling the taxi tracks and near the ORR, making crude signs when we taxied past them. These signs wished the pilot luck and conveyed to him to sock it hard to the enemy. This was followed by a sharp rifle salute.

The Hunter has two globular pods on either side of the four Front Guns, where the links deposit after rounds are fired. These are called 'Sabrina'. I believe after some well endowed film star. After a mission, when the Airmen would strip Sabrina, the links would fall to the ground with a clanging sound. This would result in an impromptu Bhangra with cheering and shouting.

I always left my jacket with the airman who helped me strap up and told him I would be back to claim it. This became a sort of ritual hand over/take over, with the take over after returning, accompanied with clapping and cheering.

That evening when thinking of the front gun burst on the train, I realized that I may have killed some people. But when I recalled the many flashes from the ground near the target on which I was firing in a dive, I said to myself, that they were trying to get me too for those flashes were real anti- aircraft fire. It was a matter of one getting the other. So it is better to thank your stars, that you are still alive today, for tomorrow is another round in this deadly game being played by both sides for the honour and freedom of our countries. At least that is what most of felt back then.

At the end of day two, we were told to pack our bags as the squadron was told to move to the western sector the next day

We did not lose any pilot or airplane the second day.

Day Three
This was a day of no action.

The CO was only told to move the Squadron to Kanpur. Further Orders would be given on reaching there. Transport support arrived early and we loaded up. Surprisingly we saw our squadron Doc Jackie Gupta arrive fully geared up. He announced that he would move with the squadron. This was the 'Battle Axes' josh.

So we ferried all the available aircraft with loaded/armed Front Guns only to Kanpur. From Kanpur we were ordered to fly to Hindon, where we reached late afternoon.

Unexciting day.

Someone's brother came in from Delhi in an Ambassador car so a few of us drove off to have a meal in a Delhi's Moti Mahal, in Darya Ganj under Black Out conditions. We were clad in Flying suits (transport support had not reached with personal baggage). The owners refused to bill us and with folded hands wished us luck with the Punjabi blessing 'Jinde Raho' (May you live long). We stayed in town with friends to return early the next day to learn that the Squadron was to move to NAL forward base near Bikaner, Rajasthan.

Day Four
That day was my mother's birthday. The first thought in the morning was that it is not a good day to buy it (get killed). However, there were no strike missions on this day too.

We received orders to proceed to NAL forward base at Bikaner. Take off was delayed due to the Hindon Fog. The ferry was completed early afternoon. NAL turned out to be a pretty desolate place in the Rajasthan Desert.. The Base was active as a Mystere squadron was already operating from there. The airfield had been bombed a few times in the past few days. The A/C were parked in Blast Pens but there was no ORR or crew room. Only a small underground Base Ops Complex.

The day ended with the Transport support Packet being given CAP (Combat Air Patrol) cover for arrival and unloading. Again after take off it was escorted 100 miles out by a dusk patrol, a two ship formation with Guns, loaded up. Never seen a Packet being unloaded and departing so fast.

Some of us were dispersed to the SU Officers mess in town while others stayed on base. Fighter Controllers were nice lot. Meeting them personally created a good sense of camaraderie, for these guys gave Radar Cover for missions flown in the next few days.
The town group was given a requisitioned civil Jonga Taxi as aircrew transport, driven by a local civilian driver named Jetharam. Wonder what was his security clearance for he could see whatever was going, as he was around the whole day.

Extra Messing special was, you guessed it Bikaneri Bhujia.

Day Five
Came in early with Jetharam for briefing at the Base Ops. There were no targets allocated so we could not decide what armament should be loaded up and the drop tank configuration. It made Chief Bhasin"s work tentative. Typical order "Keep both Bombs and rockets on the cradles" Boss reassured Bhasin he would get the time needed to configure the planes. Then Indian ingenuity chipped in "Configure 4 a/c with Bombs and 4 others with Rockets". Problem solved (When two 1000 lb Bombs are carried under wing then only two fuel drops tanks can be attached reducing strike range. However Rocket pods allow four drop tanks to be attached)

Later in the morning two search and destroy missions were ordered. 'Look for enemy Tanks on the other side of the border', was the briefing. Boss decided to go with T-10 rockets with Guns always remaining loaded with HE/AP (High Explosive/Armour Piercing) Rounds.
The mission did not see anything worthwhile to report. Secondary targets were engaged. The story was the same for all missions flown that day including one flown by me.

Nobody reported any anti-aircraft fire nor did anybody take any hits. On the Air Defence side the ORP aircraft were static the whole day. A CAP was mounted at dusk to shake off the monotony and get into the air.

Logistics were poor. Food was a problem and operating from open Blast pens in the desert meant being exposed both to cold and heat as the day dragged on. Back at the Mess, sleeping on the carpet became irritating as most of us were wondering what was the purpose of coming to this disorganized place. People wanted some action which was missing after the first two days. Even the PAF bombers did not come that night.

Day Six
This day started with a briefing by the Oi/c Base ops who was the Mission Liaison with Command HQ, and the day ended with losing our Boss who was shot down. Once again the missions being ordered were more of search and destroy type. Radar Cover was limited. Flying deck level made navigation difficult in the desert especially when weaving all the time. Ammo was T-10 rockets and Guns.

No military movement were spotted. Later we changed our tactics and decided to operate at around 5000 feet as some loiter time during the mission. This exposed us to the enemy radar with chances of drawing enemy fighters to engage us. It also improved our vision field and contact with our own radar. The scope of the mission was increased by adding this sort of offensive sweep element .We were rearing to engage enemy fighters if they came for us. All of us had practiced plenty of low level dog fighting in the run up to this war.

However there was no joy. No grief, as well for our two a/c formation could have been bounced by a formation of four or more enemy fighters. To avoid any nasty surprises we remained in our territory near the border and under Radar Cover of our SU. Perhaps we were looking for the thrust by the Enemy Armour which actually happened at Longewala, way to the south and therefore we saw nothing.

Pilots started taking on sundry targets and sometimes the ordnance was inappropriate for the target engaged. Nobody wanted to return with his weapon load not discharged. Boss was shot down near a huge bridge which he and his wing man were engaging with T-10 Rockets. He was seen to eject from a burning a/c by his wing man. Apparently he ejected almost on the border during a 1800 turn.

Enemy troops got to him first and he was taken prisoner. Had the dive direction been easterly instead of westerly, he would have ejected well in our territory after taking a hit. Lesson brought home again for future attacks on targets close to the border like Army Co-op.

Boss came back after 18 months. He then told us that after his capture there was a heated argument amongst his captors, with him standing right there. Some soldiers wanted to kill him then and there to avenge the death of some colleagues by his attack, while others wanted to hand him over to their superiors and claim a reward for shooting down his a/c. Lucky for him that the latter prevailed. He recounted a funny story of PAF pilot's wives coming in a group to look at IAF pilots behind bars, in the POW camp. One or our guys asked them loudly "what did you expect to see Monkeys? You should have brought peanuts to throw at us" They were embarrassed and left quickly.

I did two useless missions that day. Fired rockets on a rather big factory type structure and the second time on a power station, both the times on the way back to base. As Adjutant, another problem was brewing up. The Airmen were accommodated in a school building where they were told to cook their own food. This was becoming an issue as we had no cooks. Plus the men had to report before dawn and work till dusk. Looked bad. Officiating CO Allan Ally asked me to handle it as he was too busy with ops matters. In turn I told JWO Bhasin (one of the best I have seen) to detail some men of the non-ops trades to manage the cooking whilst I tried to get local help.

Back to the mess.

Three regulation shots and Bhujia, both Bikaneri and 'do aanda ka' and yet another day behind me with another looming ahead in this deadly scenario of living from day to day.

Day Seven
In the morning we were visited by the Governor of Rajasthan Shri Barkatullah Khan and his charming wife. They brought buckets of Rasagollas as a gift. However they were off the mark when it came to what we were doing operationally which was good enough for us. In an impeccable accent, Mrs. Khan congratulated us for creating History. Apparently she thought we were the Hunter Squadron which had put to the sword the enemy Armour thrust at Longewala. The Film 'Border' was later made on this heroic action by the Hunter jocks operating from Jamnagar, not us at NAL.

This day was not very different from the last two as far as Operations were concerned, except for one incident which is still vividly etched in my memory and I still wonder about it. We got a new CO, Wg Cdr NC Suri, who was in the DASI Team before being assigned this job. He was a very experienced Hunter jock, having commanded a type Squadron. I was designated to be his wing man. One mission was flown by me that day. We were on a Tac/Recee in the area near the town of Bhawalpur in enemy territory. I spotted dust being kicked up which was linked to some vehicle movement. I manoeuvred into position for an attack. In the dive my gun safety catch was unlocked and my finger ready to squeeze the trigger. When almost in the firing range, I clearly saw that the moving target was a black Car. I did not fire but made a low pass telling my wing man to hold fire and also buzz the still moving car which he did.

Usually on hearing the sound of jets, vehicles immediately stop, the drivers expecting an attack. They get away from the vehicle to avoid being killed. But not this one, it just kept going. I made another dive attack but just could not get myself to fire. A one second FG burst would have blown up this car to smithereens. I called 'Disengaging' and asked my wing man to join up as we headed back.

To this day I wonder who could have been at the wheel of that car so oblivious of death screaming above their heads. Perhaps some pretty Damsel on her way to a rendezvous, lost in her own thoughts, unaware of the raging war?

The new boss was clearly unhappy with the task assigned to the Squadron. He was instrumental in getting the HQ to reconsider our deployment and the next day we learned that we were slated to move to Pathankot, where the real action was.

Some Airmen began complaining that it was difficult to work without proper food. It became my unpleasant duty to make everyone 'fall in' and remind them that we were at war and we had to take the problems in our stride and work till we dropped. Pilots were flying missions after popping Rasagollas. Refusal to work in the war Zone was a serious offense swiftly punishable by a Field Court Martial and a firing squad. I have to confess that earlier JWO Bhasin had used similar words and requested me to back him by repeating the same." After all I have to get work out of them", he had said. Nothing like a seasoned Warrant Officer on the side of a young Adjutant.

By the evening it was confirmed that we were going to move the next day. Jetharam drove us back to the Mess, via the market place. He treated us to hot tea and 'Kachuries' as a crowd gathered. It was his way of saying "Thank You"

When back to base after the war, this story about that talk between Bhasin and me leaked out. At a victory Rum Punch some airmen showed their anger but things settled down when I said we had no choice but to keep things going and apologized for that empty threat. Their anger quickly dissipated after I did a couple of arms locked Chug Lug (Bottoms Up) with the angry Airmen.

Day Eight
The A/C were readied for the ferry to Pathankot via Hindon. Front Guns were armed with a four drop tank configuration. Take off was delayed due to Fog in Hindon. One A/C had to be ferried to the Repair Depot at Kanpur after 'Patch' repair to the bullet holes. It needed major doing up.

Surprisingly one of the Senior Operational Pilots wanted to go. He was the guy who had seen earlier Boss eject from his burning A/C. .Normally this ferry job would be given to a junior guy and there were many available. The CO let him go. He never re-joined the Squadron till after the day the war was over. The war exposure affected this guy so much that he committed suicide a few months later. Nobody knew about PTSD those days, nor did this guy get any medical help as far as we knew. In fact all of us could have used some post war counselling, but we settled down each in his own style, with some taking more time - they threw more than their share of glasses on the wall in the Bar.

Finally we reached Pathankot late in the afternoon. We learned that the two Hunter Squadrons operating from there since the beginning of the war had taken heavy losses and were sent to Hindon the same day for R&R. Five pilots killed in one of the Squadrons and two lost by the other. They had been in a tough fight. In comparison we had one killed, and one taken POW with one safe ejection. We settled down quickly in the crew room of one of the Squadron's that had ferried out. Things were pretty organized. The base was being bombed multiple times a day, so procedures during an attack had to be followed to the hilt. There was a 'Pilot Dispersal Plan' in place. Not more than six pilots were to stay in one building, so that casualties would be reduced in case the building took a direct bomb hit. This was also to ensure that there were guys available to fly the next day.

I was amongst the lucky six who were to stay in a Hotel in town. It was called the 'Airlines Hotel'. We landed up there late evening to be allotted three rooms for the six of us. We ordered a good meal which was a luxury after NAL. As adjutant I signed the bill and the six of us knocked off on a comfortable bed in a heated room. It was un-said but surely everyone knew that tomorrow would be a day perhaps more challenging than any we had seen thus far.

Day Nine
We left our hotel early when it was still dark and reported to the Squadron. The bosses were huddled in the underground Base Ops complex which was the nerve Centre of all Operations. When a mission was ordered the pilots selected for it would be driven to the Base Ops for briefing. After that they remained there in an separate room and did not get to speak with anyone who was not a part of their Mission. There was a senior escort with them at all times after the mission briefing. When the time came to go, we were taken straight to the aircraft from the base ops. This ensured we did not discuss our mission details with anyone.. This 'need to know' policy was to prevent information being passed to enemy intelligence, suspected of infiltrating our security. During previous missions it was reported that the enemy knew the mission call sign, frequency and had given R/T calls to them to split the formation over the target, thus losing mutual cross cover. Enemy fighters were able to shoot down one formation leader, after his wing man was told to turn the wrong way. There was radio jamming too. Boss decided that any manoeuvre ordered by a mission leader would be by using our short name and not mission call sign.

My only mission that day was a bomb attack on a enemy Railway Yard of a town close to the border. The aim was cause enough damage to the yard so as to disrupt movement of supplies by rail, to their forward line of troops, during the night. We struck late afternoon, to give less time for repair. Encountered heavy anti-aircraft fire like they were expecting us, but no enemy fighters were spotted. Our formation was escorted by two Gnats to cover our tail and take on enemy fighters, in case we were bounced. If something like that happened, our 'Jettison Live' guard was open. 'Jettison bombs and engage', was the briefing. 'Keep going towards home after eutralizing enemy positional advantage. It is not heroic to engage in a extended dog fight in enemy territory and be unable to make it back, running short on fuel, or worse, having to eject in enemy territory', we were told.

Our usual ordnance was 2x1000 pounders and guns. A two pass attack was usually made with the Gnats circling above. When finished we went 'Buster Power' (full throttle) and hugged the ground. The escort formation had a tough time keeping up. There was usually a CAP over base for our recovery. My A/C had no bullet hits. Wing man's fin had some proximity damage by shrapnel from a AA shell burst. Gun Camera film showed a direct hit by the bombs and a punishing long FG burst in the second pass. When debrief over, it was back to the crew room.

Returned to the Hotel, after dark, in a covered one ton to avoid being seen by the public, wearing our G-suits. Matters were becoming standard. Order some good hot food, a couple of shots, eat and off to bed, privately thanking our stars, to be back.
Day Ten
This day was more or less like the previous one except that I did not lead a mission but flew wing man to Boss. The target was a Radar Tower which was engaged in the morning. The briefing pictures showed it looked like a Water Reservoir. It was said to be heavily defended as it was vital to the enemy in detecting incoming Army Support missions, in the 'Chicken Neck Area', where a raging Ground Battle was going on. Two SU-7's had taken bad hits, with one ejection, trying to neutralize this target the previous day. Ours was going to be a two ship formation armed with Rockets and Guns. We would be escorted by two MIG 21's. A Hunter had the same fire power as a SU-7, but would present a smaller target to the Anti Aircraft Batteries. After a section Take off we were on our way with the MIGs covering us. Visibility was pretty limited. Boss was an ace Navigator and made a flawless run from IP (Initial Point) where I moved to a tactical Starboard position from the Open Battle. We pulled up on dot at the PUP. Boss rolled in and I followed. The target appeared bang on at the nose. The MIG leader called "Tail Clear". We fired our Rockets in sequence and then my concentration was not to lose Boss in that poor visibility. We turned around and pulled up for the FG Run. Perfect manoeuvre and the Tower appeared in the front wind shield and I was able to track it with minimum correction. I had lagged a bit to squeeze in a longer burst after Boss pulled out. I was able to press home a longish burst with my pipper riding the target.

"Catch Up" was the only call by boss.

I replied "Contact" as we started our home run. The MIG leader gave a cool call "With you Tiger Leader, Tail Clear" Recovered at Base uneventfully. No hits on any of the A/C. Perhaps the poor visibility helped. Have to say Boss's excellent positioning allowed me to make a pretty good attack. After seeing the Gun Camera film, boss looked at me and just nodded his head and said, 'go and relax'. We were later told that intelligence reported that the Tower was rendered Non-Ops for a couple of days.

Back to Squadron, I asked the Armourer, how many rounds were fired from my kite? (Airmen was A/C Kites). He said 386, and that Boss had already called from Base Ops, and asked him. I should have thought so. Knowing that and seeing my tracking on the film, would allow damage assessment. With Four guns firing at 80/rounds/Sec/per gun, that made it a little more than a one 'sec' burst.

That afternoon some Major from the Army HQ called me to ask how I was. He said my father in Bombay, wanted to know. This was the state of communication. Back at the Hotel the locals had come to know that some Pilots were staying there. People gathered outside with Parathas, milk/ lassi and sweets. So much affection shown, it made it a moving experience. We mingled freely receiving their good wishes and blessings. There was not even a guard outside.

I suppose those days Wars were fought on the Battle field by Men and not like today, by raining death on innocent women and children.

Day Eleven
We were getting the news from the east that the Army was making good progress and Dacca was being bombed by Daks and Caribous. 'This war may end soon', was the rumour going around. Hearing such things one cannot help thinking 'Hope I am OK when that happens'.

Anyway another day was on us and a job had to be done

The Hunter has an Armament Safety Plug which makes all electrical armament circuits live when connected. It is plugged in just before TaxI out to ensure safety, in that no Armament is discharged inadvertently on the ground. The final action which makes the weapons LIVE to be fired is the retraction of the under carriage after takeoff.

I was to again fly today as wing-man to Boss in a strike on another Rail Head. We finished the Briefing. The TOT was around noon. Start up , Taxi out and a line up for a right echelon section takeoff was uneventful. We were rolling for takeoff with the nose wheel off the ground when I felt a lurch to the left, and the A/C started pulling that a way. I applied rudder to correct and yanked her off the ground seconds ahead of Boss, who perhaps did not notice what was going on to his right. My mind was racing as Boss put his wheels up and started to pull away. On instinct I put my under carriage up, so as not to lag and got back into position. We continued on our mission with no R/T call by me, reporting the suspected Tyre Blow Out. No call from ATC too, perhaps they could see that well from the Bunker they were operating from.

The tester burst went off OK (short Gun Burst fired after crossing the border to check whether firing circuits were functional). I maintained the 'Open Battle Position' in the run in from IP. In the Pull Up I fanned out as this was an area target and could be simultaneously tracked. The attack was executed with precision with direct hits and long FG runs fired in parallel dives taking on different targets. My Bombs hit one end of the huge yard and the guns ripped open a few of what looked like storage sheds. Boss gathered up the formation by throwing a turn into me as I slipped into an open battle position. MIGs were on the ball as Boss called 'Buster' and we hugged the deck on the way home.

After peel off at base, our escort MIGs set up a CAP for our Landing as there was an Air Raid Warning in place. On 'Down Wind' I transmitted "Suspect Left Tyre Burst, Will be landing on Right Edge, request assistance". Due to the Air Raid Warning there was no time for any fly past inspection, by ATC, who were anyway located in a Bunker. I landed and managed to control the A/C and keep it on the concrete and cleared the runway. ATC said "Jump out and get away from the A/C." I stood up on the seat with the Ejection seat pin still out, managed to slide down over the nose and drop to the ground in front of the a/c.

No fire Tenders arrived, due to the Air Raid Alert. Luckily I was OK and there was no Fire at the shredded out tyre neither with an exposed rim, nor on the opposite side where heavy differential braking had occurred. Not healthy to be on the Runway during an Air raid, I started running away from my A/C. Memories of four Mirages tearing up their Target with long walking bursts were fresh enough to make me run as fast as I could. There is nothing more vulnerable than a sitting duck in the open during an Air Raid. The Raid did not happen, so an ALR jeep picked me up after the 'All Clear' was sounded.

We went through the usual de-brief my attack film showed a good job done. No hits taken by anybody. Afterwards I was sipping a cuppa when Boss called me aside.

'Tell me boy, do you have some sort of meter or Tyre pressure gauge in the cockpit?' he asked.

'How could you know in the air that your Left Tyre has burst?'

I just kept looking at him.

'Tell me when did it burst?' he asked. Was it on takeoff?'

I sheepishly replied.

He went ballistic, calling me a 'mission crazy mad man who retracted a burning wheel into the tyre bay of a fully armed A/C'.

'You could have blown up your A/C', he repeated a few times before telling me to get the hell out of his sight..

Later in the crew room we discussed this amongst us and I realized how close I may have come to killing myself. I should have kept the wheels down and aborted the mission. But then Boss would have had to abort too, as he could not go without a wing man. A senior pilot had gone alone, a few days ago. He was pounced upon by enemy fighters and shot down quite easily, after being sandwiched.

Looking back, I feel this was no dumb display of bravado but a reflex action in a hyper charged environment where most of us wanted to get the job done. All I remember clearly is that I wanted to get back into position. Lagging by a wing-man is a cardinal sin. Boss put up my name for a Vir Chakra that day but did not tell me or congratulate me, he simply scowled at me

That was another day behind us.

Day Twelve
A fighter Pilot's biggest nightmare is not getting killed but having to Eject in Enemy territory and that too near the Target which has been just attacked. Capture by angry civilians is about the worst thing that can happen to someone shot down.

All of us were required to memorize a personal background cover up story, in case captured. A rather useless ploy to sell to angry people who have been just been bombed by you and your colleagues. They are going to let you have it, story or no story. Anyway I had decided I would pretend to be a 'Parsi Bawa' as I could speak Gujarati and hope like hell that would spare the thrashing I believe there were Parsi Pilots in the PAF.

We had heard stories about Pilots being caught by the civilian mob after ejection. One guy had his own gun put to his head and the trigger pulled. Luckily the bloke had not loaded it, and the bullets were shoved into some pocket of his G-suit. The crowd then shouted 'Russian Russian' as they beat him, thinking that the Russians were flying and fighting with us just like the CIA was doing in PAF. This Anglo Indian could not speak Hindi to save his skin. The local Police arrived and took him away before too much damage was done.

Another guy was shot down in a dog fight over an enemy Airfield He was captured by local guards. PAF Officers came over in a jeep and took him to their crew room with his guard. There he met the pilot who had shot him down, a senior Sqn Ldr of PAF. They shook hands and our young Flying Officer was de-briefed about his mistakes which got him shot down. He was told that, he fought well for his experience. Bad luck that his adversary was far more experienced. This guy was treated well, till he was taken away by the MPs (Military Police) who were not so well disposed to Pilots to start with, leave alone a downed enemy.

Some guys were not so lucky, for today we learned from our Intelligence that one pilot who was shot down whilst attacking a Rail Head was captured by a civilian mob. They beat him mercilessly and dragged him to the town square. There he was mutilated, tortured and finally his throat was slit. This was cold blooded murder. After hearing this, some of us decided not to remove our Ejection Seat Safety Pin. This would prevent us from ejecting in a dire situation, when panic could set in. 'Better to go down with the A/C', we decided.

Boss told us we could take on 'Targets of Opportunity' after engaging our primary target. That meant a sort of free for all. He thought we would vent off some of our anger that way. Today I flew two identical missions with our Target being the same Rail Head in a town close to the border. The first mission was uneventful but let me talk about the second.

I was to lead a two A/C strike with 2x1000 lbs Bombs and Guns. My No 2 was a Mumbai Bandra boy and I was from Khar. We were escorted by Gnats lead by my course mate, 'Son Of Rock Bedi'. Fate had decided to pitch in our lot for this daunting task. We struck late evening with a dusk recovery. One cannot screw up when the attacking such a large Target. Our Bombs were on the button, as 'Son of Rock' shouted encouragement circling above the yard. I remember him screaming 'Chak De, Chak De', on R/T. In the second pass I opened up my Guns on some built up structures which could be in use for anything. I could see flashes of anti-aircraft fire coming from the ground, so I gave a pretty long burst. One can see AA fire in front, as you enter the dive, but as you come closer the firing stops. Perhaps the gunners anticipating your burst scamper for cover. No 2 called 'No Fire' and caught up, with me in the turn. 'Son of Rock' positioned slightly above and behind us. I called 480 Kts to give the Gnats some leverage, as I hit the deck. Past experience had shown they had problems keeping up LL if we went 'Buster' and flew in excess of 500 Kts. I must admit that if any fear of getting shot/bounced ever went through my mind; it was at the time of a getaway after the attack was executed. An overwhelming 'get the hell out of here' feeling would come over me. This would vanish on first contact with friendly Radar, as we entered our own territory, squawking the designated IFF code (Identify Friend or Foe). It was a relief to hear Radar's calls ' Blood Stone Leader Identified, Your tail is clear' to which I replied 'All Four'. Meaning nobody was left behind.

After landing I saw that I had taken hits under wing and near the tail cone from a small calibre AA fire. Thank God for self -sealing fuel tanks. In the de-brief Boss asked my No.2 why did he not fire his Guns? He bluntly replied he will not fire unless he can positively identify the target as Military. He added that some guys were fighting a personal war, but he had nothing personal to settle with the enemy. No comment from Boss. This goes to show the latitude given to individuals, even during a War. Boss then asked me what I had fired upon? I said built up structures near the Yard. Possibly storage sheds. Boss gave me a hard look, and told me for the record, 'Opportunity Targets meant Military Targets'.

'Yes Sir' was my reply, and we left in the sealed one ton for 'Hotel Airline'.

As the days rolled on, the crowd outside the Hotel would swell in the evening and wait to meet us, patiently standing the cold. This evening we were blessed by an old lady who had brought 'Krah Parsad' for all of us after offering prayers for our well being.

Day Sixteen

Throughout the last fifteen days no Pilot in our Squadron was bounced and had to engage in air combat. Perhaps one of the reasons was that an 'Airfield Strike' was not given to us. No complaints on that, for enemy Airfields were pretty well defended and their Radar cover did not allow any surprise element. They were always waiting at 'Action Stations' when the Strike came as we had seen others take losses. Most Airfield strikes were also engaged by enemy fighters both in the Approach as well as Get Away phase.

When attacking an Airfield certain points had to be kept at the back of your mind. During an attack, if AA (Anti Aircraft) fire was encountered, no worry about enemy fighters when pressing home the attack. No AA fire will come up if their own fighters are milling around in the same sky. Therefore lack of AA fire meant their Fighters are on patrol somewhere above or behind us. Ironically we had to revise these tactics on the last day, though we did not know it would be so, at the time of flying the mission

I was to be No.2 in a four A/C formation strike on a enemy Airfield. Boss was to lead. Ammo was 2x1000 lbs each. The two MIG Escorts were armed with a single Gun and two wing tip Air to Air Missiles. We took off in pairs, with Boss throwing an Orbit for the MIGs to get into position and then set course. Speed 420 kts which afforded manoeuverability both in a turn and the vertical plane, if bounced. Boss's TOT was to the second and the two of us pulled up for the single pass, Bomb Attack.

The MIGs pulled up behind us creating some lateral separation so that they could see our tails and would able to roll on to any bogey, who came between us and the MIGs. AA was seen so the attack was pressed home without worrying about being bounced. My Bombs were un- loaded on a Hangar whilst Boss went for the Intersection. No 3 & 4 continued skirting the Air field, keeping low so they could clear the tails of both the Hunters and the MIGs above them. We dropped our load at 3000 ft AGL, turned hard to avoid Debris Damage and continued the dive to get low. As we hit the deck, I could see No 3& 4 pulling up on my right and the MIGs above them, so cross cover was maintained.

Called 'Tail Clear' as Boss threw a turn into 3&4 as they pulled out, crossed over right to left, behind and slightly above us and reversed. This allowed them to quickly join up in a open battle position. The MIGs who had kept an eye on everything going on below them, dropped one each, outside the flanks of our formation as we set course for base. We were keeping our eyes peeled. Must have flown about 20 miles when the MIG leader called ' Bogey, 4 o clock, high, 2000 yds'.

Boss yelled 'Hard Starboard'.

We turned level giving the Bogey the Gun, whilst the MIGs pulled up.

The 'Bogey', a single Mirage, had to engage in a turning fight with either the Hunters or go for the MIGs. If he had done that he would have been sandwiched. Fighting 6 to 1 no matter how good your A/C maybe, is not healthy, even in your own air space. He did what was the best in his situation. He turned 180, slammed open his Burners and vanished.

Boss called 'Reverse' and the formation turned towards home. Why the single interceptor? Or was it that we saw only one? Perhaps the Mirage was trying to sneak in a missile attack but could not get a 'look down' lock on due to the terrain. The important thing was he was spotted and engaged, before any damage was done.

Uneventful recovery.

Back at the Base Ops the AOC called us and said 'Good Job Boys, the bloody war is over'.

There was no Debrief

The 'All Missions On Standby' signal had come from WAC, when we were still in the Air.

Later in the day, came the declaration of an Unilateral Cease Fire, by the PM of India.

Back to the Hotel when it was still day time.

The people in the street, stopped to cheer when we arrived.

Even the waiters thumped our backs.

Lots of handshakes all around.

Generally the public appeared 'Happy' that it was over. A distinguished looking Sikh Gentleman came over to the Hotel. He introduced himself as the 'President of the Pathankot Truck Owners Association'. He invited us to Dinner at his place that evening. Many prominent business folks were also present there. Lots of praise and kudos. Lots of Scotch too. We hit the sack that night just happy that it was over and we were lucky to come through in one piece.

Post Script
38 Years Later and Till the End

I read in the News, that on 14 Dec 2009 our Defense Minister Informed the Lok Sabha, that his Ministry had received 'NINE BOXES' of Medals returned by Retired Servicemen to Protest the Non-Settlement of their demand for 'One Rank One Pension'. Strangely nobody wanted to know the actual number of Medals in those boxes. No awkward questions were asked. No mention of any Uproar or a heated Debate , over this disclosure. Seems like it was pretty acceptable to the House, for the Ex-Servicemen , to take this unprecedented action.

Would this Minister and the Honorable Members be so unperturbed, if this was 14 Dec 71? Wonder how many medals in those boxes, were those earned in the 71 War.

Today I also read that 38 years after this Victory the same Minister has stated that a Memorial will be built for those who made the supreme sacrifice in 71. I also read about a group of Ex-Servicemen knocking the doors of the Supreme Court to get Justice, from the very Country who's Freedom they fought for and died. Have these erstwhile warriors become greedy or unreasonable? The people deserve to know the answer.

Strangely whenever their cases come up for hearing they are decided in their favour. No one could ever imagine in 71, that they would live to see soldiers return the medals they earned with their blood, sweat and tears. Battle honours are the pride and glory for which a soldier is ready to die. They are given by our Country. Have those soldiers lost faith in the country? It cannot be. My Log book is in front of me. The page open is Dec 71. I ask myself, 'Will I do it again?' I realize that some of my comrades did not live long enough to ask this question. We went out to fight in support of each other, for our squadron, regiments and our pride.

All of this helped conquer 'Fear'.

I would do it again and again if called upon to do so?

Life has dealt me a good hand, but I can never forget my days as a 'Battle Axe.

I remember the faces of widows and small children whose bread winner never came home. I owe them. We all owe them. They were ordinary men who paid with their lives to achieve the extra- ordinary, which the nation today calls 'Victory Day'.

However, does the nation really care, or is it just theatrics?

Jai Hind

HKS

Sunday, 13 January 2013

COSMIC INADEQUACIES

What would give us control?
Control over will, thoughts and body. The simple need to impose order onto chaos, in a world spinning out of balance every second while we struggle to achieve a certain level of stability in our lives denying the simple truth, the gross reality that no matter how hard we try, how vigilante we are, how much we suffer, how much we persevere; the variables are too many to manage.

And with our cosmic inadequacy of solving one variable at a time, balancing one equation at a glance, the mere mention of hope seems delusional. Thus we split ourselves being more than just one individual where as our original intentions of being more than just a mere mortal, lost in diligent struggle, with chaos expressing itself as a result of ultimate cosmic inadequacy.

Amit Kumar Koshta
PM 09:24
13-01-13

Monday, 24 December 2012

The Good The Bad and The Ugly !

The Good The Bad and The Ugly !

The Good:-

I was barely 12 when I first witnessed eve teasing, the subject being my own cousin(I have more than 12 of them !). Gallant, as I was back then, I chased those rats down to their holes, created a havoc, caused some public embarrassment not only for them but for their families too. For them, a burly 12 twelve year old fighting back with tears dripping down his cheeks and squeaky voice was astounding. As influencing and sympathizing as an honest and innocent protest could be, I was able to sway their own family members in my favor, although the guys didn't got beaten up, I could see them wary of that possibility, All this drama didn't last more than a few minutes, but those were my minutes of glory. Back home I was hailed for being a hero, my cousin who spent hours crying over the incident came running when she saw me crying apprehensive of me got beaten up by those foul creatures ! I enjoyed some very delicious and expensive chocolates that evening. So far so good.

The Bad:-

Six years later, I was traveling in a bus and like most of the buses it too was crowded. May be that was one of the bad days I had, maybe I had a bad and inciting company(having said that, I have nobody to blame but myself !), may be it was the festive frenzy getting better of me, may be the girl standing beside me was too beautiful to ignore, but surely that was the day I humiliated myself, only to realize later the severity of what I had done. Some of you would understand how difficult is it to put into words one's own humiliation. To my defense I would have said such groping and touching is commonplace, but now I realize that such things become commonplace when good people like me(Yeah I do believe I am a good man !) falter in our rarest moment of weakness. The ugly is yet to come !!!

The Ugly:-

I was raving furiously when I got hold of the guy who sent a lewd sms to another cousin of mine. He had company and I was cautious of that, but being a hunk of a guy has its advantages and I would have turned violent but something snapped. Some say anger and grief are twins, I couldn't differentiate between the two, as the memories of the bus incident came rushing, I saw the line between the molester and the protector diminishing. I let his friends intervene, let them go with just a warning.

Conclusion:-

I have been following the recent events closely. Now that I have given a lot of thought to this, I believe that all of us have been corrupt once in a while, all of us have been gross, all of us have faltered some time or the other(kudos to those who haven't !!!) but that doesn't mean that we are all devils. If we could find a way to repent and confess, there is still hope. Please do not take it for a blunt and brazen act of garnering some support for those who have been heinous. As a matter of fact I suppose none of us should be impune of these little sins of ours. But more important is the fact that we should help ourselves and others not falling prey for  the second time or for that matter of fact, even for the first time, we protest against something wrong, help those who we ourselves victimized once and let the good inside us prevail over the bad and the ugly.