An Air Veteran Remembers

Air Force Day does something strange to an air veteran.

For most of the year, life moves on in its ordinary rhythm. The uniform has long been folded away, postings are memories, and the people with whom one once shared almost every waking hour are scattered across the country. Then comes Air Force Day, and suddenly an old date, a railway platform, a face, a voice or even a forgotten joke returns with surprising clarity.

I served in the Indian Air Force for twenty years. And when I look back, one date continues to stand out — 21 April 1988.

That day, a group of young men boarded the Konark Express from Bhubaneswar, beginning a journey towards Belgaum and towards a life none of us fully understood then.

I do not remember much about the discomfort of that long train journey anymore. Or the rigorous training schedule. Time has a generous way of erasing physical inconveniences. But I remember the people.

I remember almost every one of those young men with whom I spent my training days — their mannerisms, their accents, their ambitions, their eccentricities and, of course, the little skirmishes that inevitably happen when young men from very different backgrounds suddenly find themselves living, training, eating and struggling together.

There were arguments. There was leg-pulling. There were moments when someone appeared completely unbearable.

And yet, somewhere between the discipline, exhaustion, laughter and occasional disagreements, something far stronger was being created — camaraderie.

Even today, when the name of an old course-mate comes up unexpectedly, something stirs within. Certainly,  that is one of the gifts of military life. It gives you relationships that do not always require regular meetings or frequent telephone calls to remain alive.

The Air Force also introduced me to the geographical vastness of India in a way no textbook ever could. One year, life could place you somewhere in the north; a few years later, you might find yourself in the west or the south. Languages changed. Food changed. Weather changed. Landscapes changed. But wherever you went, the uniform provided a familiar thread connecting one place to another.

Among all my postings, I particularly remember two years spent at a forward base somewhere in the north.

Such places are sometimes described as hard-area postings. Looking back, however, I find the description rather inadequate. Those two years remain among the most memorable of my entire service.

There were challenges, certainly. There were conditions that demanded adjustment, discipline and resilience. There were responsibilities that perhaps only those who have served in such environments can fully understand.

Some experiences are better left without elaborate description. But the feelings attached to them can certainly be shared.

Defence service teaches you early that not every story needs to be told in detail. There are things one remembers vividly but speaks about only in outline. Some memories belong to the individual, some to comrades, and some perhaps should simply remain where they occurred.

That particular tenure gave me professional recognition in the form of a commendation from the Chief of the Air Staff. The recognition was deeply satisfying, but what remains even more precious are the experiences behind it — experiences that civilian life would perhaps never have offered me.

The Air Force taught me discipline, but not merely the discipline of standing straight or reporting on time.

It taught me adaptability.

It taught me that people from completely different regions, religions, languages and social backgrounds can work together when there is a larger purpose.

It taught me that hardship, when shared, often becomes memory; and memory, with the passage of time, often becomes affection.

Today, many years after leaving the service, I realise that one does not entirely become an ex-airwarrior. The uniform may come off. The service number may no longer be part of everyday life. The postings may become stories. But somewhere within, a small part of the warrior remains permanently on duty.

And perhaps that is why, on every Air Force Day, the mind quietly travels back — sometimes to an airfield, sometimes to a barrack, sometimes to a cold northern morning…

…and sometimes all the way back to a group of young men boarding the Konark Express from Bhubaneswar on 21 April 1988, completely unaware of how profoundly the journey ahead would shape their lives.

Happy Air Force Day to all who served, all who serve today, and to the families who quietly served alongside us.