by Anil Jaggia
We asked him what he was doing and were told that he was trying to see if anyone was attempting to break into the aircraft. It was clear, however, that the hijackers were apprehensive about a commando raid—and were trained well enough to anticipate it.
It was a process the hijackers kept repeating. I could not help thinking that it would take very little to trigger them into taking some dangerous action. Meanwhile, ATC asked again if it could speak to the hijackers.
“Woh aapse baat karna nahin chahte. (They do not wish to speak to you.) Immediately send the bowser, immediately, and send the trim also immediately.”
“Roger.”
“And they want fuel.”
“Roger. We are organising refuelling tank.”
“And please send within five minutes otherwise they are going to blow one of us up”
“Affirmative, Sir. We have already informed Indian Oil Company and they should be on the way. This is not the usual time of landing. Indian Oil was closed. We have alerted them.”
“Please send it fast otherwise one of us will be shot down.”
“Immediately, Sir. As soon as they will come.”
Amritsar had tried to ascertain the language in which the hijackers were conversing with us, and we had indicated Hindi. But with no sign of the bowser, the hijackers were getting upset, and their threats were chilling.
Red Cap wanted us to tell ATC that they had weapons on board, including AK-47s, though we could not see any assault rifles at this stage.
We radioed Amritsar: “The hijackers are saying agar kissi ne ustadi dikhane ki koshish ki, sab ko bhoon ke rakh denge. (If anyone tries to act smart, they will blow us all up.) They have grenades in their hands, and revolvers, and AK-47s —everything in their hand.”
“No ustadi (smartness), only slight delay because fuelling station was closed. We have already taken action. Your aircraft will be refuelled.”
“They are saying, agar panch minute se zyada lage to hum main se ek nahi hoga (if it takes more than five minutes then one of us will be killed) and they will shoot the passengers also.”
Parallel to the runway at Amritsar is a road congested with heavy traffic. The hijackers seemed wary of commando action from here. I said it was just a road and had nothing to do with our flight. But Red Cap would not take it so lightly. He asked us to tell ATC to stop all traffic on that road. When we said that it was just a regular road and that ATC had no control over it, and that there was nothing to be afraid of, the hijacker replied: “Of course, we have to worry about it. You have the air force, the army and commandos.”
Again and again, Captain Sharan kept moving the aircraft in 180-degree turns under the order of Red Cap.
Finally, the hijacker said: “You said you’ll get fuel in no time. Now where is the fuel? You people have fooled us. I am going to shoot all of you.”
I attempted to reason with him. “This is a huge aircraft and it has landed on a small airfield,” I explained. “They have never dealt with a situation like this. But they will get us some fuel as soon as possible.”
“Send the bowser fast,” we radioed, “send the bowser fast.”
“We are expediting, Sir.”
“Kindly send the bowser fast, please. Only two minutes are left.”
“Roger, Sir, we are sending.”
“Where is the bowser? I cannot see any bowser.”
“We are sending the Indian Oil bowser immediately. The delay was due to the refuelling station being closed, but it is on its way.”
The hijacker insisted we tell ATC the bowser should come fast, and should be unaccompanied. Accordingly, we radioed: “Only refuelling bowser should be there, nothing else.”
“Affirmative, Sir, only refuelling bowser will come to you. We confirm that.”
One of the hijackers came into the cockpit and said they had tied up some of the passengers. This sounded ominous, but we were helpless.
“Please send it fast. Send it fast. Send it fast. Now we have guns on our heads.”
“Affirmative, Sir, we are sending it very fast.”
“Everybody will be shot down. Another three-five minutes, kindly please come. Please, come, refuellers.”
“Affirmative, Sir, only refueller will come.”
“Where is the bowser? Send the bowser fast.”
“Affirmative, Sir. We are sending the bowser, Sir.”
“Where is the bowser? I cannot see any bowser here.”
“We are located very far. Very far. We are at the end of the runway.”
“You send the bowser fast.”
“Sir, bowser is coming.”
The hijacker screamed at us to turn the aircraft around and keep moving without stopping. We had shut down both engines of the aircraft, but the hijacker yelled, “Keep them running, switch them on again. Move the aircraft. Don’t stop.”
We radioed ATC: “According to the hijackers, the engine will not be shut down, engine will not be shut down.”
“Bowser is coming.”
“Guns are on our heads now,” Captain Sharan pleaded into the radio, “please send the bowser fast.”
“Bowser is on the way.”
To our consternation, Burger burst into the cockpit and asked the chief, “Shall we start killing?”
Red Cap replied: “Nahin, ye jahaz chalayenge. Aap aisa nahin karen. (Not yet. They will fly the aircraft out of here.)”
Captain Sharan told ATC that the hijackers were becoming very impatient, and that the passengers and crew were in a very dangerous situation.
“Send the bowser fast. Send the bowser fast. They are impatient. A grenade will be burst here.”
“The bowser is starting right now and should be there after a couple of minutes. Till such time, they have to wait. Refuelling has been arranged. People are available. They are coming out.”
Still, no bowser came into sight.
“Come immediately, please. Please.”
We had started one of the engines again. Edgily, Red Cap said: “Take off for Lahore.” Captain Sharan and the rest of us told him that there was no fuel at all in the tanks. If we took off, the plane would drop like a stone from the air. But he said, “I don’t care. You take the aircraft to the end of the runway and crash it for all I care. Do it. But just move it from here.”
When I asked why he was making such a rash and plainly suicidal decision, he replied darkly: “If I shoot you here, it’ll just be plain murder. But if you die in a crash, at least your family will collect insurance. If you get killed by my bullets, what will you get?”
This wasn’t just suicide, it was murder. There were 178 passengers on board, apart from the crew, and the hijacker didn’t appear to care even two hoots for their lives. I said: “We have come this far with you, we have obeyed every order you gave us, we flew west as you wanted. Now, please have mercy on the passengers. If Pakistan does not allow us to enter its airspace, what can we do? If you can get us permission, we shall definitely land at Lahore.”
“I don’t want to listen to anything. Just take me to Lahore,” thundered Red Cap.
Once more, all of us tried to reason with him, but he addressed Captain Sharan: “You told me that you’ll get me fuel here within three minutes of landing. I believed you. You landed here, and now this. Now Engineer saheb says there’s no petrol. I say, fine. When did I say there’s petrol? Arre bhaiya, I am only saying one thing—take off.”
Apprehensively, I asked him what his intentions were. He replied: “It is simple. Take off and drop the aircraft anywhere. Destroy it. I don’t care.”
No amount of talking or reasoning would convince him to behave a little more rationally Red Cap would say only one thing: “Call the bowser, get the fuel, and if we don’t get fuel, let’s move on.”
I reminded him that Pakistan hadn’t allowed the plane to land which was why we had landed in Amritsar. “They’ll just shoot you down. Can they do anything else?” he asked. “Either you crash it here or let them bring it down in Pakistan with a m
issile. In both situations, you are dead. It does not matter to us, our job will be done. And let me tell you, before coming on board we had taken a vow to destroy this aircraft. Now, let’s take off.”
We were left speechless by this man’s single-minded approach to his task. We begged him for a few more minutes.
At this, the hijacker responded, “You had informed them long ago that we are coming to Amritsar. Then how is it that they were not prepared to refuel the aircraft?” We tried to pacify him. “Look, this is the way they are used to operating. Besides, it’s a small airport and they never expected an aircraft like this here. That’s why they are taking so long.”
Burger entered again and said: “Shall we start killing now?”
The chief replied: “No, you’ll do nothing of that sort.” He turned to Captain Sharan and said: “Tell your ATC that if they don’t provide fuel at once, we’ll start killing the passengers.”
“What is the position of the bowser now?”
“It is on its way, Sir.”
“Please, please, how long on the way? How long on the way?”
ATC did not respond.
“He’s going to kill us now. Please, he’s going to kill us four. He is pointing, please. Arrange, arrange. What is the position of the bowser now?”
“Position is on runway 27, Sir.”
All this while, the hijackers had remained on the edge. They were obviously scared of the possibility of commando action. They kept a constant lookout to see if anybody was approaching the aircraft, stretching their necks out of the cockpit windows for greater visibility.
For the third time Burger entered the cockpit, saluted his chief and said: “Shall we start killing them?”
Once more his chief refused: “No, they’ll soon fly the plane out of this place. They are getting the fuel.”
The other hijacker lost his temper. “Tell them that we’ll make them pay for the delay. Tell them that we’ll start killing the passengers and the entire responsibility for their deaths will rest with Amritsar tower.”
He seemed to want to hit us. “We have been here for so long, what’s causing the delay?”
IC 814 radioed ATC: “We are making a 180-degree here.”
“Okay, Roger, clear.”
“We have to see the runway once we make the 180-degree turn.”
“Roger.”
“If he (the hijacker) does not see the bowser, he will kill us now.”
“We are now turning south,” ATC confirmed the bowsers position once again.
Rajinder radioed: “Lives are at stake now. They are going to kill us any time. Please send the bowser. Where is the bowser now? Please tell us. Please tell us.
“It is coming, coming immediately.”
“What is immediately?”
“We are moving ahead.”
“Amritsar, please send the bowser now.”
“Affirmative, Sir.”
“Where is the bowser? Where is the bowser?” It should have been obvious to ATC that the strain in the cockpit was more than we could bear. “Yaar, yaar, he has started killing passengers. Why do you not understand our problems? Where is the bowser, yaar?”
“It is coming now, Sir.”
As the moments ticked by, our voices cracked from the strain of speaking with ATC, reasoning with Red Cap and keeping the large aircraft moving on the runway.
“Now where is the bowser?”
“Yeh chal paden, light phaink rahain hain. Yeh light aap ko nazar aa rahi hogi. Chal paden yahan se. (It has left. You should be able to see its lights.)”
“Kahan par, kahan par hain? (Where is it?)”
“Yahan abhi runway ke nazdik pahunchane wale hain. Side par jo line hain, wahan par hain. Yeh kuch baat kar rahain hain aapas mein? (It’s about to reach the runway. Are the hijackers talking among themselves?)”
“Haan, bilkul kar rahain hain. Woh kahtain hain ki sirf bowser chaahiyen. Fuel chaahiyen. (Of course, they’re conversing. They want only the bowser. They want fuel.) And we want to go from here. Phataphat bhej deejiyen aap. (Send it fast.)”
“Unke mutabik, thoda time to lagega hi. Chal padein hain. Bhej rahain hain. (It will take a little time. They’re on their way.)”
“We are in a hurry. We want to go now as early as possible.”
“Theek hain, pahuncha rahain hain, thodi der main pahuncha rahain hai. Chal pada yahan se. (All right, we’re sending it in a little while. It has left from here.)”
“Haan, chal to pade hain, par hain kahan? (Sure, they’ve left, but where are they?)”
“Station bund ho gaya tha, usko start karne main der lug rahi hain, aur koi baat nahin. (The station was closed. Starting it is taking a while, that’s all.)”
“Yaar, kamaal ho gayee. (This is amazing.) Guns are on our head, and they are going to kill anybody now. Anybody, any time.”
Our nerves were stretched taut. On the one hand, we had the hijacker stalking us relentlessly, and on the other, we were straining to sight the bowser. Over half an hour had passed, and we seemed no closer to getting any fuel. The aircraft engines had been switched off once again by Captain Sharan, but Red Cap ordered them to be restarted. He also wanted ATC to ensure that the bowser was unescorted. “He wants only two persons on board,” 814 beamed to ATC.
“Roger, Sir. Only two persons will be on board.”
“On the bowser,” 814 confirmed again, “on the bowser.”
“Okay.”
“Where is the bowser?”
“On runway 25.”
“Runway 25?”
“Dekhiye aapki eastern side main. (Look to your east.)”
“Kis side mai yaar? Kaun se side ki baat kar rahain hoi (Which side are you referring to?)”
“Runway se side lane jaa raha hain, wanha pahunch rahaa hain. (It’s reaching from a side lane by the runway.)” “Hamare left hain ya right hain? (Is it to our left or right?)”
“Aapke right hogaa. (It’ll be to your right.)”
“Hamare right? (To our right?)”
“No, no, sorry, left side main aap dekh rahe hain light move kar rahee hain gadee ki? (Sorry, can you see the light moving to your left?)”
“Kahan? Kahan move kar rahee hai, hataiye mere ko? (Where? Where is it moving, tell me?)”
“Gadee runway fee pass pahunchne walee hain, nazar aa jayegi aapko. (The bowser is about to reach the runway, you’ll see it.)”
“Okay, okay.”
“Aapko light najar aa gayee? (Can you see its light?)”
“Haan, humme light nazar aa gayee. Uske left side main refuelling start karein, and we are shutting down the engines now. (Yes, we can see the light. Start refuelling to its left.)”
“Aap thoda in se baat keejiye. Bataiye enko. Thoda cool down keejiye inko. (Speak to the hijackers, tell them, cool them down a bit.)”
“They are cool, they have cooled down, they say that we want to go from here, that is all.”
ATC continued playing sleuth, trying to establish the identity of the hijackers. “Do they understand English or not? Do they speak in English or which language do they speak?”
The hijacker was not amused, and wanted the shut engine started again. “We’re startihg number one engine. Bring the bowser in front of us. Please bring the bowser in front of us. They do not want any kind of car or anything behind the bowser. Please send the bowser this side.”
“Okay. The bowser is coming towards you.”
“Arre bhaiyal Okay, just send the bowser in front of us.”
“Okay.”
“Still, the bowser would not move. We were informed that it had got stuck. This made Red Cap suspicious. “I think I know the reason it isn’t coming ahead,” he retorted. “The bowser does not contain fuel. It’s hiding commandos inside.”
I told him that people cannot get inside a bowser. “It’s a tanker after all. Commandos hiding inside it is simply out of the question.”
The chief hijacker then said: “Start the aircraft, we’ll take off from here. And have
n’t you told ATC that we have weapons? Tell them we have grenades, revolvers, automatic weapons.”
“Send the bowser in front of us. They want to see the bowser first.”
‘‘ Roger-Roger.’’
“They are saying they have only to kill us. Send the bowser, send the bowser, the bowser—send, yaar
We were panicking in the cockpit now. “One person has been killed, killed now.” And then added for emphasis: “One person has been already killed-killed.”
We announced in quick succession to ATC that killings had begun. For inside the cockpit, a deadly game had, in fact, started. Red Cap pressed a revolver at Captain Sharan’s temple and said: “I’ll count down from 30, and then I’ll shoot you. Or else do what I say and prepare to take off.”
The already charged atmosphere now became electric. We were all highly disturbed. We didn’t want to end up in Pakistan or some other hostile country.
The hijacker started counting down, his finger on the trigger and the muzzle on Captain Sharan’s head: “30 ... 29 ... 28 ... 26 ... 18 ...
I couldn’t see my Captain and friend being shot in front of my eyes. I fell at Red Cap’s feet and said: “Please stop, don’t do this.” And since the hijacker was a short man, I raised my hand and cupped it over his mouth to stop the dreadful countdown. My action took the hijacker completely by surprise.
This was totally unexpected from a hostage. The hijacker wasn’t prepared for such an audacious move. He had thought the passengers and crew were thoroughly rattled and scared. He hit my hand hard with the butt of the revolver. My arm hit the fire extinguisher handle on the ceiling of the cockpit. “You talk too much,” the hijacker shouted, “main tumhe dekhata hoon. (I will settle with you.)”
Moving away from Captain Sharan, he put the revolver to my head. “I’ll count down in the reverse order from 30 and then I’ll shoot at 1,” he threatened. “Take off now.”
Even though angry, he began to count very, very slowly. It was a kind of Chinese water torture. There were gaps of three or four seconds before he pronounced each number. When he reached 20, Captain Sharan moved his seat back a little and touched the hijacker’s feet and implored him to spare my life. But the hijacker wasn’t moved. Just then, Burger rushed into the cockpit and said: “Sir, we have killed four passengers.”
