RISE OF THE PHOENIX

India's AWACS story is as thrilling and as mystifying as that of the mythical Greek bird that is believed to live a thousand years, burns itself into ashes, and is born again

- SANJIB KR BARUAH

A November morning, 1996.

As the mist had cleared over the Yelahanka airfield near Bengaluru, a host of VVIPs, including prime minister H.D. Deve Gowda, defence minister Mulayam Singh Yadav, star-bearing air marshals and DRDO chief A.P.J. Abdul Kalam, sat down to watch dazzling fighter jets taking off and getting into stunts at Aero-India, India’s biennial air show. Just then, a pedestrian voice announced from the ATC: “Next, ASP Avro.”

That was the understatement of the year. Hardly anyone paid attention to an Avro.

From a corner of the airfield, an old Avro lumbered down the runway and lazily lifted into the air, like an ostrich too heavy to fly. The propellers whirled noisily, eating up the air in front and keeping the garishly painted giant machine afloat. A thousand eyes turned to the slowly rotating dome, perched asymmetrically over the plane, somewhat like a Great War cannon on a pack-camel’s back. It kept a monotonous pace with the rambling plane, yet slowly activated a magnetic field of pride, admiration and envy.

Those who were on the airfield and watching could not believe their eyes—they were looking at an Indian AWACS in flight!

Sadly, as the superstitious would say, it attracted the evil eye too. About two years later, during an experimental flight from INS Rajali at Arakkonam, near Chennai, “after 90 per cent of the project had been completed”, the whole aircraft, complete with the rotodome, four scientists and four IAF men, crashed. The rotodome collapsed over the plane, and the plane “did two somersaults, then swerved to avoid electricity lines and the villages”, as an eyewitness told THE WEEK correspondent then.

With that went down India’s AWACS dreams.