Navroze in 2003 found me in Dahanu, the hometown of the Zoroastrian Iranis, some grow lychees there and some chickoos, the rest are bakers and restaurateurs. One is an aviator and doctor, which is unusual, but then the Iranis are an unusual people. Dr. Behramshah Mazda, MBBS, was also excitable. The night before over dinner at his place, already flying high on the intoxicating toddy that he was plying me with glass after glass, I rashly agreed to go up in his “aircraft” the next morning. He called it an ultralight. I imagined it to be the kind of plane Vijaypat Singhania used to fly from the UK to India. I wondered where he kept it. Dahanu had no airstrip, I knew, but further down the coast near Daman, there was a Coast Guard base. I thought we would take off from there.
Dr. Mazda introduced me to a rickety contraption that resembled a child’s tricycle with a motor and propeller, and hang-glider’s wings, on Dahanu beach the next day. It had two small seats. I looked at it in disbelief. “Ready for take-off,” he asked jovially, handing me a helmet and strapping himself down with a seatbelt. I sat behind and did the same. There was nothing to hold, so I grabbed his shoulders and rested my feet on his seat. The propeller whirred, the motor coughed and sputtered, and the ultralight came to life. Dr. Mazda gave it acceleration. It had no controls, just a crossbar between the wings, which he stretched his hands out and grasped. I held onto him for dear life. We taxied down the beach and jerkily took off like an awkward vulture after a heavy meal.
The high of last night’s toddy was gone and I was regretting the impetuousness that led me to attempt this adventure. I commended my soul to God with my eyes closed. When I opened them again, Dahanu beach was falling away beneath my spread-out feet. We climbed at a slow and alarming pace. I could hardly believe my eyes. Dahanu was now a green forest of chickoos wadis, Parsi-Irani mansions, and modern bungalows with swimming pools and big cars parked in the driveway. Dr. Mazda headed for Gholvad where a gigantic and ugly-looking power station rose to the sky with sinister dome-shaped buildings and tall chimneys puffing out ashy black smoke. “This is the BSES plant that Dahanu is fighting,” he said turning around in his seat. I didn’t feel like flying over him and squeezed his neck. “Who is going to make us fall, if you strangle me?” he choked.
He turned us around and made for Daman. “That’s the Coast Guard air station,” he indicated with a nod, “if I fly any closer they might shoot us down.” I squeezed his neck again and he got the hint. After 20 minutes of this flirting with the Gods, he lined us up with Dahanu beach again. The little flying tricycle with wings plunged down in terrifying jolts, buffeted by air currents that threatened to take us up again, while the sea restlessly pounded to the right of our narrow airstrip. My heart was in my mouth. “Ready for landing,” Dr. Mazda shouted, laughing like crazy. And the ultralight came down, bounced on the beach, and rolled shakily to a halt. Stray dogs sleeping on the beach, startled to find something falling out of the sky, chased us barking madly. This is not something meant for the faint-hearted people, I thought. But which Irani is faint-hearted! “Navroze Mubarak,” said Dr. Mazda beaming, “have you seen any of such things in your life?” “Nothing quite so crazy,” I replied. He took it as a compliment.
About Mark Manuel
The above thoughts/content has been proudly copied from the wall of Sir Mark Manuel. Being interviewing almost every role model of this country and going stronger each day. Mark Manuel is a respected Mumbai editor, writer, and columnist.
With over three decades of journalism in leading publications. This includes the Free Press Journal, Times, Dainik Bhaskar, Mid-Day, and Afternoon. He is famous for his brilliant pen interviews. He himself is a TEDx speaker.
Further
His interviews have featured in several leading media houses. They include the Hindustan Times, Huffington Post, BBC, and Network 18. Almost every famous person has been interviewed by him in the country from Mother Teresa to Muhammad Ali. His first book is just out. It’s titled Moryaa Re! It is a crime thriller that is perhaps the country’s first police procedural. He began his career covering crime. And in a tribute to his experience and knowledge of this beat.
Several distinguished officers of the Mumbai Police and its Crime Branch collaborated with him to make this book possible. Amitabh Bachchan wrote the forward in a statement of friendship for Mark Manuel and admiration for his work.
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