Air Chief marshal Idris Hassan Latif 's manner

It is the custom in the Indian Air Force, for the Chief, before he retires, to make a round visiting squadrons and stations he has commanded during his service, in a manner of bidding farewell...

So it was with Air Chief Marshal Idris Hassan Latif in 1981, when he landed up in Air Force Station Pune for two days of pre-retirement partying, having commanded the Wing earlier. A polished man and an accomplished and soft-spoken, articulate speaker, he won hearts easily.

On the third afternoon, his cavalcade was making its way to the dispersal tarmac before the ATC, where the Chief's Boeing was awaiting his departure to Delhi, when the Chief suddenly remembered he had forgotten to meet Uncle and bade his driver turn back to the Officers' Mess.

India at the time, was in the middle of the Khalistan terrorism phase and the Chief's security was tight. As his car turned around, the security detail quickly blocked its path with their vehicles and instantly his car was surrounded by commandos wielding automatic weapons, loaded and ready to fire at the driver. The Chief got out, apologized to the security detail and the cavalcade made its way back to the Officers' Mess, to allow the Chief of Air Staff to meet Uncle.

Uncle was an institution. His name was Fernandez, he was from Goa, was a bachelor and had been a barman at the Mess well before Chief Latif was a Pilot Officer, posted to a Squadron at the Lohegaon, Pune Base. Uncle would have been around 80 at the time. Late in the night once, after he had closed the bar and was walking to his room in the Officers' Mess, I had accosted Uncle to ask him how he was still in service when he was bent double and obviously far older than the retiring age of 60. He told me with a twinkle in his eye that after Independence they were made to fill up new forms. At the time, while he was 30+, he filled in his age as 18!

Fernandez was affectionately called Uncle by everyone, including the Station Commander and indeed, the Chief of Air Staff himself. One night, as Uncle had lined up drinks for me and a Debonair magazine journalist I had been assigned to accompany, take care of and show around the fighter base, the Station Commander's staff car stopped in front of the Mess lobby. The Air Commodore, on his way home from a party in town, stopped at the bar for a quick one, asking Uncle, just locking up the bar, for a drink. Uncle, bent double, turned sideways, turned his head to the side to look up at the Air Commodore and told him, "You've had enough, son. Go home."

Soon Air Chief Marshal Latif was in Uncle's tiny bachelor pad, sitting beside him on his cot, reminiscing of older times. After a while, he gifted Uncle with a mohair blanket and a cheque of Rs.1,000, a third more than a young fighter pilot's salary at the time, before once again getting into his car to join the cavalcade back to his Boeing.  ---- Story by Rajiv Tyagi a Fighter plane Officer  on Oct 8, 2016