New Delhi, India, the present day
Aaditya Ghosh watched as the enemy surface-to-air missile tracked in on him. He estimated he was no more than a few seconds away from a fiery death.
As the smoke trail got closer and closer, he was tempted to turn his jet away, but he knew that keeping a cool head was the best way to evade the missile that was racing towards him. When the missile was just a few hundred metres away, he released some flares to distract it and then put his fighter through a punishing turn. For a second, he could see very little as the world spun around him. When he was level again, he breathed a sigh of relief. There was no sign of the missile. But the battle was far from over. He was cruising at thirty thousand feet when he picked up the first enemy jet on his radar. Fifty kilometres out and ten thousand feet below him. A quick glance at the top right hand corner of his display told him that the intruders were two F-16s. He messaged his wingmen to cover him and then swooped down to intercept the enemy planes. Having chosen a Su-35 for his mission, he knew that he would likely have an edge when it came to locking on and firing his long range missiles, but with two attackers and wingmen he was not sure he could count on to cover his back, it would be tight.
He slowed down to Mach 0.8 and armed his radar homing missiles as he watched the F-16s come closer on his radar scope. The two red dots were now barely thirty kilometres away, and Aaditya noted with some dismay that his wingmen, indicated by blue dots on his display, were not quite doing much to cover him. In theory, they were to operate as a team, but in reality, he knew that he was very much on his own.
At twenty-seven kilometres, Aaditya's radar emitted a whistling tone that indicated that he had locked in on the first F-16. He waited for the triangle to appear over the enemy jet on his Heads Up Display that indicated he had a solid lock before he fired a missile. A second later, he fired another. It was a bit of an overkill, but he was carrying a huge load of missiles, and he had long learnt that rankings and honours were conferred based on the number of kills, not on efficiency. He watched both missiles streak across the sky towards their quarry as he switched focus to the next enemy. The range was now less than twenty kilometres and he watched as the enemy jet fired a missile at him. The red arrow shape rapidly approached on his radar display, and Aaditya reacted with no trace of panic or alarm, his reactions honed by countless hours of practice. He deployed some chaff strips to confuse the enemy radar guided missiles and put his jet through a series of punishing 9G turns. When he had stabilized, the enemy missiles were nowhere to be seen, and the first enemy jet had disappeared off his scope, having been obliterated by one of his missiles.
Without waiting to celebrate his kill, Aaditya selected his short-ranged heat-seeking missiles and turned towards the second F-16. He accelerated to over Mach 1 and at a range of less than ten kilometres, he fired two missiles at the F-16.
That was when his mission was ended abruptly by a tap on the shoulder.
'Dude, Donkey's coming this way.'
Aaditya quickly slid the PSP into his backpack as Professor D.K. Kumar, known with much mirth and little affection among his students as Donkey, walked over to his desk.
'Mr Ghosh, you seem to be preoccupied today. Perhaps you could tell the class a little more about the impact the colonial system had on the Indian economy.'
Aaditya looked at the Professor, a smile on his face, as if he were about to answer. In reality, his mind was blank. Blasting enemy fighters while playing Ace Combat 6 on his PSP was about all he could remember of his Economic History class. He kept looking at the professor, hoping he would find a new prey, but he persisted. Then someone coughed, a few notebooks were slammed shut, and Aaditya found himself being rescued by the fact that the period was over. He heaved a sigh of relief and looked at Samrat, who was sitting behind him.
'Sam, thanks for the heads up.'
Samrat smiled, but behind his eager, bespectacled eyes, Aaditya could detect a trace of disapproval. Oh well, everyone could not be a bookworm like Samrat. Aaditya was about to leave the class when the professor called him over. Fearing that he was in for a lecture, Aaditya braced himself, only to be shocked when the overweight, balding professor smiled at him.
'Play your video games all you want, just not in my class.'
Shit, he knew.
Aaditya wondered what he could possibly say in his defence when the professor continued, this time his smile taking on a sad tinge.
'I know it must be difficult for you. The principal had told us, but do try and adjust and let me know if I can help in any way.'
Aaditya mumbled his thanks and left, but was fuming inside. The last thing he wanted from anyone was sympathy. He barely noticed Samrat walk up next to him.
'Hey, what happened? Did you get into trouble?'
Aaditya looked down at Samrat who stood a good head shorter than him and was about half as wide across his shoulders. Aaditya figured that his imposing build was at least one reason why Samrat, long rumoured to be the small nerd everyone picked on, had befriended him when he joined his class. They wandered over to the basketball court where several boys were in the middle of a frenetic game. They sat down near the court, Aaditya wistfully looking on. When the ball bounced over to them, he picked it up and was about to hand it back, when an urge came over him. He looked at the basket and sent a looping shot that went cleanly through. Several of the boys on the court whistled and one of them asked Aaditya if he wanted to join them. But Aaditya mumbled an excuse and rejoined Samrat, a smile on his face.
For old times' sake.
'Man! That was some shot. Were you in your school team or something?'
'It's nothing. Come on, let's go grab a bite to eat.'
They sat down at a corner table at the cafeteria, eating their sandwiches when they were joined by another boy.
'Hey Sam. Hey Ghosh.'
The newcomer was Deepak, thin and wiry, with his customary iPod earphones plugged into his ears.
'Hey iPod.'
Samrat's nickname for him never failed to annoy Deepak. He grimaced and sat down. If Samrat was the bookworm, the word for Deepak, not to put too delicate a point on it, would be a lech. The unlikely couple were the best of friends, and in the two months that Aaditya had been in the college, they had become the closest things to friends he had in his new home.
Deepak immediately began scanning the cafeteria for likely objects of his attention. Aaditya heard him whisper, 'She's looking at me!'
The 'she' referred to Surpiya, resident heartthrob of most boys. Supriya of the long legs. Supriya of the impish smile. Supriya of the cute accent. And also, Supriya of the impossibly rich father and expensive tastes. That was a combination which put her firmly out of the league of her many admirers.
'In your dreams, iPod. She's looking at our own Mister Tall, Dark and Handsome here', said Samrat, gesturing towards Aaditya. Embarrassed, Aaditya tried to change the topic. The last thing he wanted to do was flirt with some girl in college. But then when Samrat nudged Aaditya again, he couldn't resist looking at the three girls sitting about a dozen feet away. Supriya was sipping a cup of coffee, but over the rim of the cup, she was definitely looking at him. Aaditya stared right back. Their eyes locked for a few seconds, then she turned away. Aaditya smiled to himself. Flirting was almost the last thing on his mind, but certainly not at the absolute bottom of the list. As on the basketball court, memories came flooding back. Memories he did not want to deal with right now. Standing well over six feet tall, with the physique of an athlete, he had always had more than his fair share of female admirers in school. The one thing he hated with a vengeance about his appearance, his mop of unruly hair, somehow seemed to only enhance his appeal, and so over time, he had learnt to make peace with the fact that he could never keep his hair in place.
But that had been seemingly a different life. He had never imagined then that he would be studying Economics at a Delhi college, with not the foggiest idea of what he was going to do with his degree, if indeed he finally managed to get one. Life back then had seemed so certain, so simple. But now he knew, just when you thought you had things totally under control, life threw you a curveball you couldn't possibly have anticipated.
'Dude, you lost in thinking about her or what? Come on, we need to hurry otherwise we'll be late for Macro class again. I do hope you've done your assignment.'
Just a few months earlier, Aaditya would have laughed at the thought of rushing from class to class, being harangued for not doing homework. No, his place was in the sky, soaring above mere mortals, kissing the clouds. The only uniform that he had considered worthy of wearing was that of a fighter pilot, the only worthy assignment being a sortie with a fighter jet at his command. But for now, he would have to settle for not being chewed up by the professor for not having bothered to read up about the Reserve Bank of India's monetary policy.
***
Aaditya was still thanking his stars that the professor had not picked on him and did not notice Supriya standing in the corridor till he almost bumped into her.
'Hi. Aaditya, isn't it?'
Aaditya had never seen her this close before, and he quickly saw that both her reputation and her legion of admirers were well deserved.
'Hi. My friends call me Aadi, and you must be the Supriya half the college tries to impress.'
'Only half?' she said, jokingly.
'I was referring to the half that is made up of every boy in college.'
She smiled, and Aaditya could sense Samrat shuffling behind him.
'Supriya, this is Sam. He's in my class.'
'You're the one who came first or something, right? I've heard of you, Sam.'
Aaditya was beginning to wonder what Supriya wanted with him when two more girls joined them.
'Aadi, this is Anu and this is Suchi. Girls, this is Aaditya. I guess you've just been here for a couple of months, right?'
Aaditya nodded and smiled at the two girls as Supriya continued.
'Hey, we were going to grab some coffee. I figured since you're new in college, you may want to join us and get to meet some of the gang.'
Aaditya was thinking of what to say when he heard Samrat hissing in his ear, 'Say yes, you moron.'
Ten minutes later, they were in front of a nearby coffee shop and as they entered, Aaditya looked at Samrat and Deepak. Both had wide grins plastered on their faces.
'Sam, you look like you've won a lottery.'
'Dude, she knows who I am!'
Deepak scowled and playfully punched Samrat on the shoulder. 'Dork'.
When they entered and joined Supriya and her friends, Aaditya saw Sam and Deepak's expressions change to one of dismay. He realized that his friends had perhaps imagined this to be a date with Supriya and her friends. Instead there were four boys already with the girls.
Samrat and Deepak had been planning all through the short walk to the café how they would be at their charming and witty best. They had no idea of just how much their new friend could turn on the charm. Having grown up among officers and gentlemen, Aaditya knew well how to charm the pants off someone. Right from the time he stood up to pull the chairs back so the ladies could sit, to the way he ensured the waitress got the girls' orders before he asked the others. When Supriya heard of Aaditya's background, she leaned over and smiled.
'An Air Force kid. I should have figured. Most guys are not so chivalrous nowadays.'
When Anu asked if the gang would like to meet up later in the evening to go dancing, Supriya enthusiastically agreed, and before Aaditya knew it, plans had been made to go to a disco.
Sam caught the look on Aaditya's face, and was about to say something but Aaditya motioned for him to stop. 'I have a long day tomorrow, so sorry to be a spoilsport, but I need to get home early guys.'
Supriya protested, but as much as Aaditya wanted to spend more time with her, he did not want to tell her why he could not go dancing, and he most certainly did not want the pity and platitudes that he knew would be forthcoming if he did tell her the real reason. Perhaps on any other day, he would have tagged along, but tonight he was in no mood to be reminded of his shortcomings. So he excused himself and said that he could not join them.
When they walked out, Samrat caught up with him. 'Man, you should have come along. It's no big deal.'
Aaditya stopped and looked at him.
'That's easy for you to say.'
Samrat looked at him apologetically. 'Sorry, dude, you know that's not what I meant. Look, screw them. Why don't you me and iPod meet up at my place? I've got the new Medal of Honor on my PS3, and we can go and blow up some Taliban.'
Aaditya smiled. So far only Samrat and Deepak had learnt his full story, and he was beginning to realize that for all the things that had gone wrong over the last few months, he had at least been lucky to get a couple of really good guys as friends.
'That sounds like a plan.'
***
Aaditya returned to his apartment just after ten o clock. On balance it had been a fun evening. They had played on Sam's PS3 for a couple of hours, and then Sam's parents had joined them for dinner. His father had asked the boys what they planned to do after college. Samrat had already decided on an MBA, or rather, Aaditya thought, his father had decided that for him. And so, even though they were only in first year, Sam was going to join tutorials next year to prepare him for the MBA admission tests. Deepak was nowhere as certain of what he wanted to do, but given that every second person in their class was planning to try for an MBA, he replied with a shrug of his shoulder that he guessed he was also going to join Sam for his classes.
Then came Aaditya's turn, and when he answered that he really did not know what he wanted to do, he almost heard an audible gasp from Sam's father. The awkwardness was defused by Sam's mother wheeling in the dessert. As Aaditya listened to Sam's father talk about how important it was to have a plan for life, he thought how different his life may have been if he had been able to follow his plan. And it wasn't just his career. He wanted to meet someone like Supriya without cringing at the pity that he knew was inevitable when she got to know him better.
Back home he sat down on the sofa in his living room and turned on the television. He willed himself to not think too much about the things he didn't have.
Please don't go into a self-pity trip again. We've been there before and it is not a pretty place.
When he realized that there was little else on offer other than the usual soaps, he turned it off and got up to change. As he passed the side table outside his bedroom, he paused to look down at the photo frames on it.
For most people, photographs are a way of preserving memories. A way of freezing in time moments that have passed. For Aaditya, they served an additional purpose-they acted as a constant reminder of the life he could have had if only a couple of things had turned out differently.
There were a few photographs of Aaditya and his father. The elder Ghosh was as tall as Aaditya, and Aaditya remembered his earliest memories being that of looking up into his father's smiling face. There were a couple of photos of his father with his mother, but honestly Aaditya remembered nothing of her. The woman who had given birth to him was no better than a stranger, having shared less than three hours with him in this world. She had died soon after giving birth to him.
He showered and changed, but before keeping his clothes in the washing pile, he remembered to take out his good luck charm from his pocket. He ran his hands over the raised edges of the round, embroidered patch of cloth. He felt the outline of the Hawk, soaring, its talons bared, two crisscrossing lightning bolts below it. And then just four words embroidered underneath.
No return without conquest.
The words mocked him now. There certainly had been no return. Not that evening. Not ever since.
He put his father's old squadron patch on his bedside table and then booted up his computer. The wallpaper on his computer desktop was a collage of photos-all showing his father in uniform. Most of them had Aaditya standing beside him, and most showed them next to fighter planes. Aaditya smiled as he saw one photo of him and his father in the cockpit of a Sukhoi 30. He had sat in the back seat, devouring every detail, imagining what a joy it must be to fly such a beast every day for a living. Then there was a photo of him receiving the Silver medal in the National Cadet Corps Flying Wing. His father stood a few feet away, pride apparent in his eyes.
Growing up among fighter planes and pilots, there had never been any real question of what Aaditya would do when he grew up. It wasn't that his father had ever pushed him to follow in his footsteps, but for as long as he could remember, Aaditya had only one dream-to be a fighter pilot. Growing up in various airbases, surrounded by pilots, the dream of flying a fighter jet had long come to define his life. He had done everything he needed to do to make that dream come true-join the NCC, fly as much as he could-often accumulating more hours in the NCC Flying Wing's gliders and light planes than many active duty pilots did, and keeping himself fit through sports and martial arts. It had seemed like a no-brainer for him to join the National Defence Academy straight out of school, and then make his dream come true by joining the Indian Air Force.
But ultimately none of that had mattered. And here he was, with little left to show for the life he had once dreamed of other than a collection of old photos, and the squadron patch he kept with him at all times. In the drawer of his bedside table was the letter that had changed his life.
We regret to inform you that Squadron Leader Mayukh Ghosh…
For three days after his father's jet had gone missing during an exercise over the Arabian Sea, Aaditya had kept his hopes alive. His father's squadron mates and their families had closed ranks around him, ensuring he was never alone, that the seventeen year old boy had food, that the motherless boy whom they had collectively adopted as their own never felt abandoned in this moment of need. Aaditya had then truly appreciated what his father had told him about the Air Force being one big family, and he was grateful for all the support he had got. But none of that could change the fact that his father was not going to come back home again. After three days of frantic searching in shark-infested waters, and with even the wreckage not recovered in the deep seas, Squadron Leader Mayukh Ghosh had been given up as lost.
In one stroke, Aaditya's life had been turned upside down. His father had perhaps always known, with the instinct of a career fighter pilot, that one day it might come to this. And so, he had prepared meticulously-the apartment was in Aaditya's name, the family inheritances were invested in fixed deposits in Aaditya's name, and a list of contacts had been kept ready, including a good friend in Delhi who had helped Aaditya get into college and into his new life. His father, Aaditya thought, even in death, had proved to be the best father in the world. It was he who had thrown away all the dreams.
He didn't want to think about the past, but perhaps today, there was no way he could avoid it. If his father had still been with him, tomorrow would have been his birthday. When Aaditya was growing up, an Air Force officer's salary had not been enough to get extravagant gifts, but his father had always made sure that Aaditya never felt the absence of a mother. Every birthday was magnified into a memorable event, including that one unforgettable time when, on Aaditya's birthday, his father had allowed him to sit in the back seat of a Sukhoi. Aaditya wished that his father had been with him so that he too could have done something to make the day special for him.
But while Aaditya had not been able to follow his dreams, he could still live them vicariously. So, for the next hour, he expounded on the relative merits of the various contenders for the Air Force's new fighter contract on an online forum where he had long come to be recognized as the resident expert when it came to anything to do with fighter aircraft. He then logged onto his favorite air combat sim and flew a mission where he obliterated an enemy nuclear plant and shot down a handful of fighters, once again firmly establishing himself at the top of the leaderboard, and more than making up for the afternoon's aborted mission.
At midnight, Aaditya lay down on his bed..
Tonight was a time to remember all the good times he had shared with his father. As he drifted off to sleep, he whispered to himself, 'Happy birthday, Dad.'
He dreamt of flying a Sukhoi, streaking through the skies at supersonic speed, worldly worries left thousands of feet below. But for a change, he did not dream of flying alone. In the back seat was his father.