INS Vikrant.

I first heard the words ‘INS Vikrant’ in Puppa’s bedtime stories. He inherited his passion for the navy from my grandfather, a sailor man himself. Vikrant had been the flagship of the Indian Navy and our first aircraft carrier, purchased from the UK as HMS Hercules. Aeroplanes landing on ships? God bless the maniac who thought of that!

Years later, news came that 2008’s Grade III field trip would be to an aircraft carrier. Oh, joy! I was the only kid who knew what those words meant, so I went around sermonising to anyone who’d listen. But I must admit, I was more fond of aeroplanes than ships. You see, I’m terrified of the sea. If your aircraft breaks, you die quickly. But the water, it takes its time.

Nevertheless, fear had to step aside when I saw 16,000 tonnes of battle-hardened metal push through the silhouettes of the grown-ups in my way. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever seen! Indestructible! At the end of the queue, the way inside is over an alarmingly wobbly footbridge. Pull yourself together, boy! This is no time to be afraid, INS Vikrant is real. 

In navy speak, ships are always referred to in the feminine. At sea, your ship is your mother. ‘She’ is responsible for keeping you alive, and you must treat her with befitting dignity. I didn’t know that. Once aboard, I was possessed – running between and underneath aircraft, announcing their names, patting their fuselages. I didn’t expect them to be so knackered, most unlike the dress whites I’d seen on TV. No, these were working dogs – not a dent pulled out or oil stain wiped away. They waited for a gentle hand, I suppose. At the very least, someone who knew their names. Today, little Aadyan’s uncalloused fingers would have to do.

The flight deck dwarfed our school playground. I evaded my chaperones and ran across it unhinged, blissfully unaware of the 50-foot drop into opaque water if I ran too far. I didn’t know it then, but she was on borrowed time – bleeding into the sea she once conquered. I stopped at the edge of her bow. With only bedtime stories for reference, I imagined that flight deck in its prime – thundering jet engines making that great leap of faith, trusting their mother to hoist them into the air. I thanked her for my dreams with another round of patting. My real mother, a lamb though she is, would’ve swatted my hand away. But hey, the ship didn’t seem to mind. 

2nd September, 2022

Today, Vikrant will become a ship of the Indian Navy once again. She will wear the same pennant number (R11) she did in 1961, when she sailed in Indian colours for the first time. She’s not the same ship, mind you. The Vikrant I knew has sailed into history. In her place stands a new vessel, twice her size and with children of her own. Dassault Rafales, they say. And she’s a local girl! Built right here on the same land she’ll be charged to defend.

I still miss my Vikrant. I watched her go, sold for scrap, taken apart piece by piece on the shores of the city I call home. Even then, she held her dignity. Today, it isn’t the same hull. But, in my heart, she’s the same ship – mother.

I think it’s what she would’ve wanted; to be out breaking waves, not locked in my memories. She is where she belongs. And when it’s my turn to go “Once upon a time…”, she’ll be the ship I think of. However that story goes, this much is true – it’s nice to see you again, INS Vikrant.