Dhiraj Mani Hazarika
(dhiraj.hazarika@gmail.com)
One of the first riveting sights that greeted me when I joined Class V at
the junior wing of Sainik School Goalpara, Assam, was a small, almost dilapidated, yellow-coloured aeroplane standing near the NCC ground. The folklore was that it was a downed Pakistani fighter aircraft. However, AI has revealed that the blunt-nosed bird, with its long fibreglass canopy and propellers, was actually a phased-out North American Harvard (T-6 Texan) aircraft of the Indian Air Force, donated to the school by the Ministry of Defence. As for a war trophy, we were afforded the thrill of a lifetime when we were allowed to board a captured Pakistani submarine anchored in the Brahmaputra off Goalpara town sometime later. Well, that was in 1971.
On reaching Class IX, our new abode became the senior wing, located around 3 km towards the town. However, every other morning, during our morning run, we caught a glimpse of the aircraft standing like a sentinel at the junior wing. It had once been as much a part of our lives as the dormitory, Cadet Mess or Assembly Quadrangle.
Fast-forward to the mid-1970s, and our school was shifted to its permanent campus at Mornoi, located around 20 km from our old campus in Goalpara. During the summer holidays, the authorities made meticulous arrangements to relocate the school, lock, stock and barrel, to the new sprawling campus. Our excitement at moving into the new campus was, however, short-lived, as we soon discovered that our flying companion had been left behind at the old campus.
However, God has a way of mitigating the disappointments of young minds. Imagine our frenzy when the Principal announced at a morning assembly that the senior-most class—that is, Class XI, which we were in—would assist in shifting the trainer aircraft to our new base by road!
Thus, the next morning, our group of around 25 motley senior boys was deposited at our erstwhile junior campus and greeted by the sight of the sorely missed, forlorn plane. We watched with bated breath as skilled personnel secured the aircraft to an open truck for the journey ahead. Subsequently, we were fortified with a spartan lunch of puri-bhajis. However, this was a minor irritant, given the prospect of an exciting 20 km trek with the aeroplane back to the Mornoi campus. Our brief was to accompany the truck and ensure that the aircraft did not fall from its perch. So, we tagged along, sometimes jogging to keep pace with the slow-moving truck. If we were excited, imagine the disbelief writ large on the faces of the unsuspecting villagers along the route at the sight of an aeroplane making its way on the back of a truck, accompanied by a group of energetic boys on foot.
It was dark by the time we reached our destination. The next morning was a Sunday, when we could get up at our own sweet time. However, I woke up at the break of dawn, and the first thing I did was to seek out the aeroplane at the spot near the school building where we had deposited it the previous evening. Yes, it was standing proud at its new home.