Wings of Heart

2. New Assignment

Haridas POV

As I sipped the tea, Kapoor continued, his gaze still steady but with a newfound warmth. “It’s not easy, balancing work with further studies, especially in a place like this. It requires discipline, and that’s something I respect deeply.”

I listened, letting his words sink in, each one a reassurance that my hard work hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Quite unexpectedly the door swung open, and Flying Officer Bide, the officer in charge of the Daily Servicing Section (DSS) for the flying squadron, entered. He held an aircraft logbook in his hand, his face clouded with a seriousness that was hard to miss. Both Kapoor and I immediately stood up, greeting him with a respectful “Good morning, sir.” However, Bide did not return the greeting, his stern expression unwavering.

He placed the logbook firmly on Kapoor's desk, flipping it open as he began speaking in a low, sharp voice. “Look at this,” he said, his tone laced with frustration. “This was checked and signed off by one of your technicians. But when the pilot boarded to carry out a sortie to Chandigarh, loaded up with cargo, he found the VHF wasn’t working. How could this happen? I don’t understand.” He glared at the logbook and then back at Kapoor, clearly waiting for a satisfactory answer. “It’s unacceptable,” he continued, “and it suggests nothing less than carelessness. I want this investigated, and I expect a full report.”

Kapoor, still standing and maintaining his composure, responded promptly. “I’ll look into it immediately, sir,” he replied, his tone firm yet respectful.

Flying Officer Bide’s eyes narrowed, his voice firm. “I don’t want any excuses. Once an airman signs off on an aircraft logbook, certifying that everything is in working order, I expect it to be reliable. We can't afford failures like this, especially not with operational trips.”

Kapoor remained calm. “Sir, I understand. However, please keep in mind that these electronic systems are working on vacuum tubes. Unlike transistors, which are more stable, vacuum tubes have a limited operating life and can fail unpredictably.”

Bide, visibly more composed but still intent, responded, “I know that. I’m electronics engineer myself; I understand how these systems work. But that doesn’t change the fact that this failure jeopardized an important trip. We need more proactive measures to ensure these kinds of issues don’t cause mission delays.”

Kapoor gave a respectful nod. “Understood, sir. I’ll have it rechecked immediately and ensure it’s resolved.”

As the tense exchange finally eased, Kapoor turned towards me. “Sir, may I introduce Corporal Haridas? He’s been with our squadron for the past two years. He’s currently finishing up his engineering degree through evening classes.”

Bide’s face softened a little, and he looked at me with a curious expression. “I’ve heard of you,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “I know you’re quite skilled with wireless and radar repairs. That’s very good.” He paused, his expression turning unexpectedly kind. “I wish you all the best with your studies. Who knows, perhaps one day, you’ll be sitting in my chair, serving as an officer.”

A genuine smile crossed my face, and I thanked him sincerely for his encouraging words.

After a short exchange, Bide gave Kapoor one last look of expectation, as if to remind him of his request for a report, and then he left the office. Kapoor took his seat and gestured for me to sit down once more.

As I settled into the chair across from him, Kapoor looked at me, his eyes reflecting a rare softness that wasn’t usually there. “I don’t want to waste your time,” he began, his tone more conversational. “But I’d like to discuss an additional duty I have in mind for you.”

I felt a flicker of anxiety. My mind immediately started wondering. Could it be guard duty? I hadn’t been assigned guard duties lately, thanks to an exemption I received while preparing for my exams. Was he about to revoke that exemption?

Almost as if reading my mind, Kapoor shook his head and gave a faint smile. “Don’t worry, Haridas; you don’t need to guess. I’ll explain.” He hesitated for a moment, then continued in a tone that surprised me with its warmth. “I have two children, you see. My daughter, Premlatha, is in twelfth grade, and my son is in ninth. They’re both studying at the Central School here on base.”

I nodded, smiling in acknowledgment. It sounded like he had a well-balanced family, unlike some who found it difficult to manage with more children, often compromising on education and other needs due to financial strain. Kapoor seemed committed to their well-being, and I respected that.

Kapoor continued, his expression now more serious. “My daughter, however, is struggling with mathematics. I’m determined to help her improve her scores so she can pursue either engineering or medicine. Medicine is costly, of course, but if she can score well in math, her chances of getting into a good engineering college will improve.”

There was a brief pause, and I found myself wondering why he was sharing this personal concern with me. I waited, realizing he was choosing his words carefully.

“I’d like to ask you for a favour, Haridas,” he finally said, looking directly at me. “Could you help tutor her in math? Just a few sessions a week to help her build her confidence and improve her grades.”

His request took me by surprise. I hadn’t expected this turn in the conversation. But at the same time, I felt a certain pressure to accept. Refusing could risk his good opinion of me, and in the military, one never wanted to disappoint a superior who might one day control your leave requests or recommend you for promotions.

So, with a respectful nod, I said, “No problem, Chief. I’ll be glad to help her out.”

A genuine smile spread across Kapoor’s face, the kind of smile that reached his eyes and softened his usually stern expression. “Thank you, Haridas,” he said warmly. “That’s very kind of you. You can start this evening.”

“Of course, Chief,” I replied, feeling a sense of duty to follow through on this.

“She usually gets home from school by three-thirty, so if you could come by around five, that would be ideal,” he continued. “I’ll arrange with Sergeant Finani to free you from afternoon duties so you can have time to prepare and head over.”

“Thank you, Chief. I’ll be there at five.”

“I am staying in Sadar Bazar,” Kapoor continued, leaning back slightly in his chair. “From the main road, take a left turn, then the first right, and ours is the third house on that lane. House number 34. It’s easy to find.”

I nodded attentively, mentally mapping the directions. “Understood, Chief. I’ll be there at five sharp,” I assured him.

Kapoor gave a satisfied smile, seeming relieved that the arrangements were settled. “Thank you, Haridas. I’m counting on you. Let me know if you face any issues.”

“Will do, Chief,” I replied.

It wasn’t always that a senior entrusted a personal task to someone like me, and I understood the responsibility that came with it.

With our conversation at an end, I stood up and left the office, still processing the unexpected shift in my duties for the coming evenings.