A Passage Through India*

CCXIX

The Thar Desert. Today divided between India and Pakistan, in Earhart’s day it formed a large portion of the British Indian Province of Rajputana. Although it varies from semi-desert to erg desert and is very arid, the region is very populous, with culturally important cities such as Jodhpur and Bikaner in its midst

Although most Americans understand a monsoon to be a driving tropical rain storm, the monsoon has more to do with winds than rain. Born out of the temperature differentials between the Tibetan Plateau, the Indian lowlands, and the sea, the winds of the monsoon are very powerful and can carry either rain or not. As Amelia overflew the Thar (“tar”) Desert, the monsoon hadn’t yet begun in earnest (the monsoon season in the region began in July and carried through to October), but she discovered to her consternation that it was gathering strength.

Amber Palace, Jaipur

A powerful sandstorm obscured the earth beneath the Electra. Looking down, all Amelia could see was an indefinable khaki-colored nothingness. At her altitude it at first was untroublesome, but soon Fred announced that the winds in the upper atmosphere were shoving the Electra off course. Amelia would correct, get back on her compass heading, and soon be correcting again. The situation worsened as the sand lifted by the winds reached altitude. Suddenly she found herself flying through a sky full of grit. She worried not about the fuselage but about the engines that were sucking in sand-filled air in order to operate. Fortunately, at over 200 miles per hour she soon outpaced the weather. Still, it remained a hazy, hot day of limited visibility, and it stayed that way.

The countryside of central Kerala Province

British India opened beneath them, a land of dynamic contrasts. Miles of cultivated land, jungles, savannas, herds of elephants, regions packed with small villages and large cities and palaces and slums appeared and disappeared through the Electra’s windscreen as the day went on. Both Earhart and Noonan thrilled to a simple fact, that navigation was no worry. Following the rail lines as any pilot would have had to just ten years before, they picked their way from depot to depot. It was as if someone had unrolled a red string in a labyrinth for them, except for the Minotaur.

In the 1930s British Indian railways were run rather like British ocean liners with a First, Second, and Third Class. There was also a Fourth Class, people who climbed atop the cars at the various stops. Paying a penny or two, or nothing at all, these people rode at their own risk. In reality, derailments were common and injuries usually horrific no matter how much one had paid

Looking down over Agra, Earhart could see the Taj Mahal. She and Noonan debated making a landing, but were startled when they suffered a bird strike --- at 5000 feet a convocation of black eagles ran afoul of the Electra, coming out of the distant haze virtually without warning. Plans to land and visit the Taj Mahal were quickly shelved and they flew on, listening for complaints by the plane. It was worrisome for a few minutes. Still, they were captivated by India.

The Taj Mahal as seen from a less-familiar angle, the north bank of the Yamuna River. Built at a modern cost of $827 million dollars by the Mogul Emperor Shah Jehan between 1631 and 1648, it is the mausoleum of his favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal

All they needed was a tour guide.

In the countryside, elephants and water buffaloes have been semi-domesticated as draught animals and are still used today for a variety of purposes

As they neared Calcutta in the early evening, the weather steadily worsened. Soon they found themselves in a blinding rainstorm, and when they circled Calcutta’s well-known Dum Dum Airport Amelia realized that the landing strip she’d been assigned was unpaved. The rain had turned the runway to muck.

Despite their spotty safety  record in the 19^th and 20^th Centuries, some of the elegant First Class coaches remain in use and so does their style of service. These are a favorite with tourists today. In 1937, only Britons, other Europeans, and the cream of Indian princes and political figures could travel First Class. Mahatma Gandhi made it a point to travel Third when using the trains

Suddenly, what should have been an easy landing turned into a dire challenge. Land with anything less than perfect precision and the wheel struts could jam and snap in the mire. Not only would the plane be damaged severely, but she and Fred could be injured or even killed by the sudden jolting stop and smashdown.

India’s jungles are literally the shared home of lions and tigers and bears though all three species are critically endangered by man’s unchecked spread

What pilots today call the “pucker factor” suddenly spiked off the scale. 

At Calcutta, Amelia runs her hand through her no-doubt wet hair

Fortunately, Amelia had flown the Electra long enough now, and in enough varied conditions to put the ship down safely on the messy field. It was an impressive landing, especially given the conditions. She had just flown 1,390 miles from almost one end of India to the other, landing in the dark, in the rain, at a strange, less-than-optimum airfield. 

Amelia, watching a maintenance crew work on the Electra, location unknown

As was becoming too predictable, Amelia wanted to immediately “gas and go” to get out of the weather, but by the time that British officials greeted her on the field the rain was pounding down mercilessly. With the echo inside the fuselage the Electra sounded like it was being machine-gunned. It was hard to see each other, much less try to lift a plane off in the darkness. With no choice, Amelia and Fred repaired to the airport office where they were served the inevitable tea, sandwiches and bikkies. The whole night she gave vent to unaccustomed anxiety and annoyance; what if the plane sank into the soft mud of the landing strip? What if she couldn’t lift off? Why couldn’t Calcutta have given her a paved runway? Being the proper British hosts they were, the airport officials courteously ignored her flashes of temper.

Dum Dum Airport (now Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose International Airport) in 1935

*The title of this post was cribbed a bit from David Lean