My first flight

MY FIRST FLIGHT BY IAC AND LATER

It was back in 1962, IA was then known as IAC, that then as a young Captain, I was posted in Assam, separated and far away from a younger wife, living in Dehradun. The only contact between the two pining souls was by the infrequent letters, which took days to move to and fro.

The daily IAC flight from and to Calcutta, flew low over our Regiment, located at the Sonbari Airfield, Tezpur, and landed and took-off regularly. The flight operated by a Dakota aircraft, which with its characteristic drone of the twin engines was both a friendly sight and sound.

A God sent short training assignment at Agra made me realise that I could manage a couple of days at Dehradun by shaving-off some from the slow train journey, from Tezpur to Agra, if I took the flight to Calcutta. and then the train to Dehradun .

It was a strange feeling of exhilaration when I had taken my seat in the aircraft and the door closed with a bang. I had flown earlier, as a young boy of fourteen, but only in a Royal Indian Airforce aircraft. A pair of
Tiger Moths were on a war effort exhibition tour giving joy rides to district officials and local VIPs. It was just a takeoff, a single circuit around and then the landing on the grass strip at Saharanpur way back in 1945.

The Dakota flight was an entirely different experience, with its comfortable well-padded seat next to the window, looking down at the town of Tezpur, the majestic Brahamputra maundering on its way to Bay of Bengal and the slowly changing landscape down below. Seeing all, but possibly not registering much, with my thoughts at far away Dehradun.

Nearing Calcutta the aircraft banked, took a turn and aligned itself with the runway and slowly sank down making a smooth three-point landing. As we were walking towards the terminal I did manage to complement the Captain for the flawless landing, who gave me a pleasant smile in return.

The taxi drive to the Howarth Junction from the airport took more time than the flight had from Tezpur to Dum Dum Airport, Calcutta. However, I did manage some precious time with my wife and baby daughter, many times worth the princely sum of Rs 100, I had spent on the Air Ticket.

On the other hand, returning from Nagpur to Delhi by flight 872 on the morning of 5thApril 04, this time in a Boeing 737 Jet was a different flight experience. Unusually fussing-over cabin-crew, breakfast served with shining cutlery, but with a plastic knife, for reasons of security and self-defence, than flying in a Dakota, but similar in one respect.

Approaching Delhi, the aircraft started to loose altitude preparing for the landing, I cold see it crossing the outer-fence of the Airport and then descending to contact the, closing by the second, tarmac and the runway markers flying backwards. It was any moment now, by instinct, based on the experience of so many earlier landings, in fair weather and foul; I braced myself for the expected thud and the accompanying jolt of the landing wheels making contact with mother-earth. It was then that my co- passenger made some remark, but before I could respond I realised, to my surprise, that we had landed. No thud and no jarring note at the end of the flight. It was a strange coincidence, the non-event, suddenly brought back the memory of the landing at Dumdum Airport way back on the afternoon of 24 March 1962.

There was no chance to complement the pilot this time; I could