ELEGANCE PERSONIFIED : ARJAN SINGH, MARSHAL OF THE INDIAN AIR FORCE

“Elegance is not an outer quality, but a part of the soul that is visible to others” says Paulo Coelho in Manuscript Found in Accra. It is a rare human virtue which radiates intensely from a person and creates an aura or halo around him with gravitational influence. The Marshal of Indian Air Force (MIAF), Arjan Singh, embodied every element of that virtue. His persona exuded humility, grace, and inner vitality. He personified elegance in its purest form. I had the fortune of experiencing that magical aura of MIAF when I spent two days with him as his Liaison Officer. Those unforgettable moments came my way when I was posted as Directing Staff at the Air Force Academy, Dundigal, Hyderabad.

The Combined Graduation Parade (CGP) at Air Force Academy is held twice a year. It marks the culmination of rigorous training and is a defining milestone when a gentleman cadet transforms into a commissioned officer. The parade reflects the overall health and standards of the Academy and is an occasion of immense significance—not only for graduating cadets but also for their families, foreign dignitaries, media representatives, and numerous invited guests who witness the grand spectacle with awe and admiration. The breathtaking fly-past and aerobatic displays are often a star attraction. Every detail for this event is executed with clockwork precision, in keeping with military ethos. There is absolutely no room for error during the entire ceremony.

In year 2005, the Reviewing Officer for CGP was  legendary Arjan Singh, Marshal of the Indian Air Force,  only officer from IAF elevated to five star rank since independence. When the Commandant announced this news, it had an electrifying effect on everyone associated with the event. Preparations intensified instantly. After initial general briefing for CGP to group of officers, I was called to the Commandant’s office where he assigned me the duty of Liaison Officer to the Marshal during his forthcoming visit. The Commandant briefed me in detail and instructed me to leave nothing to chance. I was elated, yet equally anxious. Concealing my nervousness behind a confident smile, I acknowledged the task and began preparations in earnest. While such duties are usually performed routinely with rehearsed precision, this was no ordinary Reviewing Officer—he was a living legend of the Indian Air Force.

Over the following weeks, I meticulously gathered inputs from various departments and Air Headquarters, preparing a comprehensive and minute-by-minute programme for his visit. The itinerary was scrutinized and refined to ensure that every minute of his stay was accounted for. Multiple rehearsals, called dry-runs, were conducted to eliminate even the slightest possibility of any faux pas. After detailed discussions visit progremme was formally approved. All that remained was to await the D-Day.

On the day of his arrival, I positioned the designated staff car near the ceremonial Guard of Honour on the tarmac. As the Marshal alighted from the aircraft, I stepped forward to introduce myself. Before I could do so, he noticed my Liaison Officer armband, took a step closer, and warmly asked, “How are you?” I was momentarily stunned by his humility. I introduced myself and also greeted his gracious wife, Mrs. Teji Arjan Singh.

Following the Guard of Honour, we proceeded to the Academy War Memorial for the wreath-laying ceremony—a solemn tribute to the fallen heroes accompanied by the sounding of the Last Post, a salute, and two minutes of silence. Considering his age (he was  86 years) and to ensure precise timing, I gently suggested to the Marshal that he could take a cue from the Commandant’s reflection on the polished granite floor to synchronize lowering of arm after salute. With a disarming smile, he replied softly, “I have done it so many times that my arm is tuned to the sound of the bugle.” After the ceremony we drove down to VIP cottage. During this short drive he vividly recalled the tail numbers of vintage aircraft displayed along the route and even recounted having flown some of them. His razor-sharp memory was remarkable. I realised that even casual conversation with him on general topic demanded precise knowledge and accurate information.

On the eve of the CGP, a customary social gathering is held at the Commandant’s residence before a formal dining-in-night at Cadets’ Mess. Five minutes before his departure time for the social evening, I waited outside his room, hesitant to ring the bell. After a brief delay, the door opened. “All well, Sir?” I asked apologetically. “I am so sorry I am late,” he said, visibly perturbed. “The Government has given me so many medals that the buckles are unable to hold their weight. So it took time for me.” Apart from numerous military medals, he was recipient of DFC (Distinguished Flying Cross) for bravery in Burma Campaign during World War-II and Padma Vibhushan for exceptional leadership during 1965 Indo-Pak war. I glanced at gleaming row of these medals summing up his illustrious career in IAF. When we arrived at Commandant’s residence, he made it a point to personally apologise to each lady present for his late arrival. Many ladies were admirably astonished at his gesture. For a young officer like me, it was a lesson in leadership that no manual could teach.

Later that evening, as we drove back to the VIP cottage, he was still expressing regret over the five-minute delay. Attempting to lighten the conversation, I decided to change the topic by  asking him, “Sir, when did you visit the Golden Temple last. Now a days one has to queue up for hours to pay obeisance at sanctum sanctorum due to large number of devotees.”  In a reflective tone, he replied, “I visited recently to offer my prayers. I don’t know how they (temple officials) come to know about my visit, but they always honour me with a siropa (a saffron cloth offered by the priest to honour a dignitary).” I felt little silly for a moment.

After reaching the cottage I  briefed him about the next day’s programme, and told him that I was in the adjacent room, should he require any assistance. He simply smiled and said, “Good night.”

For the D day, I set my alarm for 0500 hours so that I could position myself for departure well before time. About forty minutes before planned departure, as I was tying my turban, there was a gentle knock at the door. With both my hands occupied in the act of tying the turban, I opened the door. To my utter surprise, the Marshal stood right in front—immaculately dressed and ready for the ceremony. I stood frozen and speechless for a moment which felt like eternity. “I am ready, boy,” he said with his characteristic smile before I could utter a word to greet him. “Put me in the car whenever you want. I don’t want to be late today, at least,” he said to make me comfortable. And he moved to the lawn accompanied by vivacious Teji Arjan Singh.

As he strolled briefly on the lawn, I joined him quickly where he shared anecdotes of his experiences as Reviewing Officer at Royal Air Force Academy in the United Kingdom and elsewhere. Meanwhile, I noticed some cooks, waiters, and DSC jawans peeking from behind the cottage to steal a glimpse of the Marshal. Discreetly I tried to shoo them away, but he had already noticed. “Call all of them,” he said. What followed was an impromptu photo session. He spoke to each one, enquired about their welfare, and put them at ease with a reassuring hand on their shoulder. The sparkle in their eyes was unforgettable. There he stood—lofty like a mountain that kisses the sky, yet humble like a river that flows gently from great heights.

The CGP is always a long and physically demanding ceremony, especially in the warm months of June–July. Yet he went through the ceremony without slightest sign of fatigue. During the customary tea and interaction after parade, he attempted to meet as many parents as possible. However one elderly parent, who appeared to be a farmer from a remote village, tried to avoid him, seemingly overwhelmed by his persona. The Marshal had noticed it and told me to call him. The man approached hesitantly, introduced himself in rustic simplicity, and suddenly bent down to touch the Marshal’s feet, choked with emotion. The Marshal gently held his arms and asked, “What is your age?” “Sixty-seven years, Sahib,” he replied. “You are a young man,” the Marshal quipped, dissolving the tension into warm laughter. The man’s nervousness vanished instantly.

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During two days visit, the Marshal asked me to hold his Marshal’s ceremonial baton ; it was an honour and these were electrifying moments I shall never forget.

After the CGP there is a lean period in the Academy and instructors from all faculties usually proceed on short leave to recharge for the next term of training. I too proceeded on leave. Upon my return, the Commandant called me to his office, and showed me a Demi-Official letter written by the Marshal, expressing his gratitude for having been invited for the CGP and its smooth conduct. Smilingly the Commandant told me to read the letter. To my immense pleasant  surprise, the Marshal had mentioned my name in the letter stating, “my Liaison Officer was very thorough and helpful”. I was simply overwhelmed. A copy of that letter occupies a place of pride in my drawing room.

To me these were lessons on grace, humility and elegance which I never found in books and précis. Future generations will only read about the legendary MIAF in history books. We were fortunate to have lived in his era.

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