Aerial survey with a twist
THE monsoon has exposed states across northern India to the fury of floods, with river waters sweeping towns, washing away vehicles, bridges and roads. As hapless people are struggling to pick up the pieces, I am reminded of an incident when floods had hit central Kerala in July 1985. I was the pilot of a Navy Chetak helicopter requisitioned by the state government for an aerial survey by then Chief Minister K Karunakaran. Accompanied by his secretary and a photographer, he boarded the helicopter after a preliminary briefing and occupied the front seat. After takeoff from the Kochi naval air station, the helicopter proceeded to the affected areas.
We flew over devastated hamlets, marooned people and washed-away roads and bridges towards Kanjirappally and, thereafter, headed for Idukki. Negotiating the foothills and avoiding the clouds, we finally reached a point where it was not possible to proceed further. A decision was made to go back and the VIP was informed. He thanked me and left for the civil terminal and the waiting press corps. The photographer had captured some great shots. The news of the chopper ride was to hit me only much later.
The next morning, as I was rushing on my bike to reach on time for the morning briefing, I was stopped by the naval police manning the gate. ‘Compliments from the commander, sir,’ they told me; in defence parlance, it meant that the commander wanted to rip me apart for some act of omission or commission. The waiting PA gave me no time to straighten my uniform and straightaway pushed me inside. The base commander was sitting with his balding head in his hands; newspapers were strewn in front of him on the thick-glass tabletop. ‘What is this and why didn’t you report the matter after landing?’ he roared, ignoring my smart salute, and shoved the local English newspaper in my direction without asking me to take a seat. The headline screamed, ‘CM’s helicopter escapes mishap’. The news described how the CM’s helicopter had been engulfed by clouds and a thunderstorm near Munnar and how the pilot had brought it out. ‘What are you thinking, damn it… the command headquarters wants a report.’ I sat down in the PA’s room; over a cup of hot coffee, I wrote that what was published had not actually happened. Apparently, Karunakaran had gone overboard while talking about the aerial survey during the post-flight press conference and the media had lapped it all up.
Worse was to follow in the evening when I returned home. My newly wedded wife was sitting puffy-eyed with the front page of an English newspaper spread across her lap. But those were the simple days — an explanation over dinner at her favourite restaurant brought back the cheer and laughter.
