But The Ground Realities....!

After I had demonstrated that I could adequately follow Hans’ instructions from the front seat, he called “your controls” and I put my hands around the stick and throttle for the first time.

Initially, I simply followed his directions to roll and turn, easing or increasing control inputs as instructed. I was quite comfortable in the horizontal plane, and while constantly communicating my intentions to Hans, pulled progressively tighter turns and faster rolls. The g- suit that had initially been uncomfortable felt more and more natural, and the pressure on my legs barely registered as I manoeuvred the aircraft.

At one point Hans called “my controls” and pulled the aircraft around, explaining that I had been about to exit our ‘play area.’ He gained some height and asked if I felt up to some loops. “I’ll show you first,” he said, and without warning pushed the throttle forward and snapped the nose up. A gasp was all I managed before my arms were pinned against my body. I tried to place my hands on my thighs but my body was in no position to respond to my intentions! How in hell am I supposed to do this if my hands don’t even work, I thought to myself in a mild panic.

Once we returned to level flight, Hans pulled the throttle back and called “your controls.” I took a breath, gingerly nudged the throttle forward and pulled back on the stick. It turned out that having something to grip – the stick and throttle – helped keep one’s arms in place. My right forearm was more or less stuck to my thigh, but that didn’t matter much because my hand and wrist were doing most of the heavy lifting. On the left, my arm was certainly being pushed down and away from the throttle, but again, simply hanging on to the handle was enough to keep everything where it was supposed to be. The loop itself was exhilarating, although the incredible view did momentarily distract me, prompting Hans to remind me to “keep pulling!” Once I returned to level flight again, I did a few more turns and rolls before asking Hans if I could try an Immelmann (roll off the top). “Sure,” came the reply, and I duly pushed the throttle forward, held the stick back for a few seconds and then snapped the aircraft into a roll to the left once we were inverted. It wouldn’t have won any awards, but I ended up more or less level at the top of the loop, with the nose pointing slightly up and a little more to the left than a seasoned pilot might have managed.

That’s when I made my first ‘mistake’ – I simply pushed the stick forward to regain the horizon. Negative G is a thoroughly unnatural, unsettling feeling, and that one attempted correction was enough to ensure that my stick did not move forward for the rest of the flight!

Having enjoyed looping in the upward direction, I was considering requesting Hans if I could try a Split-S, but then he came on the radio to ask if we should re-join the other Gripen and head back to Yelahanka. I would have been happy to stay up in the air all afternoon, but I understood it was more a statement of intent than a question!

In the other Gripen, Fredrik and Srinjoy formed up on our left as I flew at 6,000 feet to a waypoint called ‘Mike’ just short of Yelahanka. There, Hans called “my controls” for the final time and brought our formation thundering over the runway for a sharp right hand break above the airfield, before flying a curved approach down to the threshold. Since a lot of aircraft were starting up and taxiing for the afternoon show display block, we coasted to the eastern end of the runway instead of carrying out the Gripen’s trademark short landing and vacating the runway at the flightline itself.

We turned off the runway near the ATC tower and joined a queue of aircraft on the apron, bringing to an end one of the most exhilarating hours of my life. With the aircraft idling gently on the tarmac, Hans gave his last instruction of the day: “Disarm seat.”

I depressed the catch and pulled the switch up. “Seat disarmed,” I said, through a wide grin. I didn’t care whether I sounded like a fighter pilot or not.

Misogyny shows itself up in many ways. In public places, it shows in the way women are denied even the most basic facilities like toilets. The Indian Ministry of Defence has just concluded the 11th edition of the biennial aerospace show Aero India in Bengaluru. Government officials have frequently used superlatives over the years to describe Aero India, which indeed is India’s biggest defence and aerospace event, attracting the who’s who of the global defence industry, including presidents and CEOs.

In 2017, over 250 foreign and some 270 Indian companies exhibited in Aero India, which was jointly inaugurated by ministers of defence and civil aviation. As is the trend worldwide, even in the defence industry, the number of women in the workforce has increased over the years. So too at Aero India 2017, there appeared to be as many women at Air Force Station Yelahanka, which has been the permanent location of the show for the last two decades, as there were men. Even at extremely conservative estimates, there were at least 2,500-3,000 women at the show every day.

Yet, it didn’t occur to the organisers that these women would need access to clean toilets. There were just under a dozen toilets for women at the show, each afflicted with its own unique problem. Some had no water, toilet paper rolls or soaps; some had too much water on the floor, forcing the users to roll up their trousers or hitch up their sarees before entering, while some demanded a cross-country trek over unpaved ground, difficult to negotiate in heels.

One thing united them all: the absolute lack of hygiene! For a show of this level, the organisers had hired local cleaning women to attend to the toilets, instead of professional housekeepers.

This makes a mockery of everything we claim and aspire for at so many levels. Let’s take each level one by one. We claim to be a leading power in Asia; our prime minister asserts that our time has come and the world must take notice; and he is exhorting global industry to come and ‘Make in India’. Yet, at this biggest showcase event, the infrastructure is so abysmal that foreign participants make sympathetic noises while putting India back in the third or the fourth world.

“Aero India is basically a national show for us unlike the Dubai or the Singapore Air Shows, which are more regional in nature,” an exhibitor told this writer, explaining why they neither expect nor get delegations from other Asian countries to Aero India. To look at the latest trends in defence and aerospace technology, customers from those countries prefer to visit Dubai or Singapore. “To attract international customers, you will really need to work on the infrastructure,” she said. After all, it stands to reason that if you cannot get something as basic as the toilets right, how can you be trusted with high technology?

But we do get a lot of technology right. ISRO has just launched 104 satellites in a single flight. So what is this disdain towards providing toilets for women, if not a veiled attempt at keeping them out of public places? And if this is the state at a premier show crawling with so-called VIPs, one can only shudder to think of the state of toilets in lesser places.

At the second level, what does it say about the government’s Swachh Bharat Mission (SBM)? Clearly, if usable toilets cannot be provided for women at even high profile events, the fate of the millions of these being built under SBM is not difficult to imagine. In most urban areas, the problem is not of a toilet structure, but its condition.

Finally, the government is committed to giving greater opportunities to women in the armed forces. But by not providing them civilised facilities at their places of work, isn’t the government telling them that we may have opened our doors, but our minds remain absolutely shut?!