I was part of the first batch of women pilots inducted into a hitherto-male-only Indian Air Force, and I reveled in my pioneer status. I had been a keen cadet during my NCC days, and dreamed of flying for a living. My dreams were realized when the IAF called for applications from women for the 1 st batch of women pilots, and I studied hard to clear the competitive exams and interviews that are a part of every recruitment for the Defence Forces in India. My hard work was rewarded when I won a seat at the prestigious Air Force Academy and due to my earlier work with NCC, I found it easy to stay among the top ten in my course.
As I headed into the wash room after I’d finished my reports and signed back the aircraft to the ground crew, I looked at my reflection in the standard-issue mirror that was part of my quarters. Flt Lt Ayesha Narayan (I was the daughter of Muslim mother and a Hindu father) looked back at me. I saw a physically fit young lady, pretty and one of the more desired women on the station. My breasts weren’t large but filled out my flight suit nicely. I changed out of the flight gear into my comfortable jeans and tee that gave me a respectable, stand-offish look.
I was to meet my boyfriend of 6 years that evening. We were meeting after a gap of three months, while he was on a training course for the young hot shot fighter pilots of the IAF. We’d met during our days in the Cadet Corps, and because of our shared interests in flying we’d got together and stayed hooked to each other during our respective enrolment as commissioned officers. We were in love, and tonight we’d discuss our future.
We had dinner at a crowded restaurant in town. Afterwards, we rode his bike to the local lake where they had pedal boats rented out by the hour. Daylight was fading as we got out into the middle of the lake. I held his hand as I put my head on his shoulder. He was as physically fit as I was, and we had no trouble with the boat. There was a slight breeze blowing, and with our knowledge of drift we had no trouble keeping the boat steady. The lake was shaped like a kidney, and we headed to the other side. Once there, we stopped pedaling and turned towards each other. I wanted him to kiss me, and I looked up at him from his shoulder. He guessed my desire and kissed me, fervently. When we broke for breath, I asked him about his course. He said he’d enjoyed it, and that he had improved his volleyball skills during the games that they played to keep fit. I told him that I was to visit my parents the next week. He asked about them, and I said they were fine.
He took the hint, and asked me if I thought we could make a life together. In his normal, understated way, he was asking me if I would marry him. I looked at him, and said he had to earn his promotion first – I wasn’t going to marry a Flight Lieutenant. He dug into the pocket of his very white, crisp shirt and showed me an “official” looking letter. I couldn’t read it in the fading light and asked him to tell me about it. In response, he switched on the battery-operated “headlight” on the boat and asked me to read it. I leaned forward, and in the light of the lamp I was told he was now Squadron Leader Arun Venkataraman on the successful completion of his course. I sat back, folded the letter and put it back into his pocket.
All reservations gone, I asked him if we could take the day off tomorrow so that we could go out to the small hill station just outside the city. He agreed, and the next day we took off on his bike, riding the 50 kilometers to the base of the hill. It was a lush verdant green-space, and we parked his bike at one of the small shops there. We hired a climbing rope and gear from the shop, and set off, wanting to climb the hill cross-country and do some rock-climbing along the way. The narrow path meant we had to walk in single file, he carried the rope across his shoulder and chest and most of the gear in his backpack while I brought up the rear with the lighter gear in my backpack along with a bottle of water and another of fresh fruit juice.