40 years of the Kanishka bombing

A FEW minutes before disaster struck the Montreal-Bombay Air India Flight 182 on June 23, 1985, co-pilot Capt SS Bhinder remembered that a boy in seat 54 wanted to see the cockpit. Bhinder turned to JS Dinshaw, the Assistant Flight Purser, and told him to bring him “after about 15-20 minutes”. That time never came. After a smooth five hours of flying, with the plane soaring at 31,000 feet, at 7:14 GMT, a loud sound was recorded on all four channels of the Cockpit Voice Recorder. The communication with the ground snapped, and the plane went off the radar.

A bomb had exploded in the forward cargo hold of the Boeing 747 — named ‘ Kanishka’ after the emperor of the Kushan dynasty. It was 100 miles southwest of the Irish coast. The Air Traffic Control at Shannon alerted the Marine and Rescue Coordinating Centre. All ships in the area were asked to proceed to the site.

There were 329 persons on board, including the crew; no one survived. However, only 131 bodies were recovered.

Laurentian Forest, a cargo ship, was the first to arrive. It was a day of intermittent rain and squall, and limited visibility.

“The surface of the water grew slick with aircraft fuel and was strewn with floating wreckage. They sighted the first three bodies in the water at 09:40 GMT… The enormity of the incident became apparent as the ship passed through some 30 bodies floating in the water… Not only were the conditions hostile, but the bodies were covered in fuel and very slippery… Some of the bodies had been stripped of their clothing by the fall. Many showed signs of traumatic injuries, or were partially dismembered,” according to the Justice John C Major Commission of Inquiry into the investigation of the bombing of Air India Flight 182.

But nothing was more haunting than what a young officer of the Laurentian Forest, Mark Stagg, recalled: “A winchman is lowered late morning. This is unusual. He is carrying something, and this has usually been wreckage. This time it’s a baby. He is crying as he passes me this bundle. He leans his head to mine and shouts above the noise of the helicopter, ‘Sorry’, and then he is gone. I looked down into the towel and he or she is perfect and beautiful… I rested my cheek on the baby’s head and it was cold, so cold. I didn’t know what to do next. I put the baby in a plastic bag. It is 6 feet long and a little soul lies at the bottom and is insignificant, and I feel guilty.”

There were 29 families with no living relatives left. Among the dead were 82 children who were below 13, while several kids were orphaned, as per the Air India Flight 182 Victims’ Families Association.

ONLY CHILD AT CORK

Susheel Gupta lost his mother, Ramwati, 37, in the crash. He was 12 years old at the time. The family used to save money for a trip to India to meet relatives every few years. They had emigrated to Canada in 1973. Ramwati Gupta went ahead of the family this time and boarded the plane in Toronto.

“My father and I were to follow… I still remember it was Sunday. One of my father’s friends told him about the missing Air India flight over the Atlantic Ocean,” recounts Susheel. As he couldn’t be left behind, his father, Dr Bal K Gupta, took him along to Ireland.

“Close to 1,000 relatives had converged from India, Canada, the UK, and the USA. I was the only child among the kin in Ireland,” says Susheel.

Remembering the warmth and kindness of the Irish people, he says, “They knew why we were there. Strangers who met us at hotels, restaurants, shops and stores shared our grief. Once, it was raining. We were crying. We didn’t have a raincoat. As we were walking, three persons approached us. They hugged us and handed one raincoat to my father, while another put his jacket on me, buttoned it up, pulled the hood over my head, and told me to keep it. I still have the raincoat.”

Both father and son would visit Cork Hospital every day. Finally, his mother’s body was recovered, and both came to India to perform the last rites.

Dr Bal, a scientist at a public nuclear facility in Toronto, played a key role in the formation of the Air India Victims’ Families Association, which not only brought the families together but also pressed for a public inquiry into the incident.

Susheel pursued a career in law and rose to become Senior Strategic Operations Director with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP), working on counter-terrorism matters. “My career is a homage to my mother,” he says.

“On the tragedy, the Canadian government thought it was not their problem… There was no Canadian official at the crash site in Ireland… It emerged that there were lapses in the investigations. There were failures. But are we safer today than we were? Yes, our institutions are working together better,” says Susheel.

DID NOT BOARD THE FLIGHT

Sanjay Lazar lost his father Sampath Lazar, stepmother Sylvia Lazar and stepsister Sandeeta. Sampath was the flight supervisor that night. Sylvia was an award-winning flight attendant and had recently resigned from Air India.

Sanjay, 17, was supposed to go with the family, but dropped out as he failed in his 12th-grade exams and had to stay back.

On his way to Ireland to identify the bodies, he was staying at a hotel in London but had to vacate it due to a bomb scare.

In Ireland, he thought he had identified a body as that of his baby sister Sandeeta. That night, he was having dinner when he met a South Indian family. “They started enquiring and I told them I had identified a body which was that of my sister. However, they claimed it was their grandchild. There were many similarities… Finally, the body was handed over to the other family. It was heartbreaking for me.”

At Cork, he stayed for 24 days, waiting for the bodies. “I decided to go back and came to London. I was about to leave for India when I got a call that a body had been found. I rushed back to Cork. It was my mother. It didn’t have a single scratch. She was pregnant. I took the body to India, and the burial was conducted in Bombay.”

It was not the end of his orderal. In India, now an orphan, he had to fight a legal battle over property. He secured a job at Air India and worked there for 38 years, later taking voluntary retirement.

“I had a deep calling as if my father was telling me to bring the incident to the fore,” he says. He wrote a book, ‘On Angels’ Wings: Beyond the Bombing of Air India 182, My Journey of Resilience and Courage’.

He points out that the Indian government didn’t do anything regarding the tragedy, whereas Air India was theirs, and Khalistan terrorism was born in Punjab. There is no Kanishka memorial in India.

“It is still the biggest aviation bombing incident. No one in India discusses it. Had the plane been full of white people, justice would have been served in one year. My family died twice, once in 1985 and then in 2005 when Bagri (Ajaib Singh Bagri) and Malik (Ripudaman Singh Malik) were acquitted; they were grinning,” he says.

NOT A CANADIAN PROBLEM

Rob Alexander lost his father, Dr Anchanatt (Mathew) Alexander, in the crash. He was 40, and was practising as a cardiac surgeon in Hamilton. He was on way to meet his ailing mother in Kerala.

“I still remember the day he took the flight. The weather was bad. My father took the shuttle service to the airport,” recalls Rob, who was 15 at the time. His other siblings were 12 and nine.

The next morning, his mother Esmie received the phone call about the tragedy. “She was upset… the screams, which you never want to hear.”

Rob’s maternal grandfather and uncle went to Ireland to identify the body, but it was not found. Later, in October 1985, his body was found strapped to a seat during the recovery of the wreckage.

“His patients and the communities he served loved him so much that they organised a memorial service for him,” remembers Rob. Esmie had to take up a job to support her three kids.

Rob now works in the insurance sector and lives in Hamilton. On justice not being delivered, he says, “From day one, it was not a Canadian problem. It was a brown people’s problem. The Canadian government didn’t take up ownership. They didn’t prioritise the investigations,” he points out.

THE FATAL DELAY

Rahul Aggarwal, 23, was heading back to India after 10 years. He was a PhD student at the University of Manitoba in Winnipeg. “Rahul was working on Indo-Russia relations and was to meet our uncle in Delhi, a retired professor from JNU,” recalls Tamara, his sister, who was 21 at the time.

She was supposed to accompany him, but her plan got put off. “Rahul was about to miss his flight but as Kanishka was running late, he caught it.” The flight was an hour and 38 minutes behind schedule.

Rahul made a phone call to the family before departure. “There was a threat to Air India at the time. Operation Bluestar had taken place, following which Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was assassinated in 1984. However, Rahul jokingly told us that if he encountered extremists, he would engage with them, as he was a student of political science,” recounts Tamara.

Their parents went to Ireland after the crash, but Rahul’s body was never found.

About the trial, Tamara expresses her disappointment at the Canadian government. “The evidence was missing or tampered with. There was miscommunication within the agencies. The trial was weak. The Canadian government failed.”

She adds that the Kanishka tragedy should be a part of Canadian history, but kids know nothing about it.

SOME ARE MORE VALUABLE

Rajiv Kalsi remembers dropping his sister Indira at the airport on the fateful day. She was 21. After finishing her nursing diploma, she was leaving for India for their elder brother’s wedding, who had earlier left for India with their parents.

Indira was working part-time as a pharmacy assistant. She wanted to dispense free medication to the poor in India, but the crash cut short her dreams.

“The Canadian government didn’t pay heed to the warnings. They let the incident happen. It was only acknowledged as a Canadian tragedy post 9/11. Some people’s lives are more valuable and some people’s are not,” Rajiv expresses his anguish at waiting for justice for over 40 years.

LET DOWN BY OTTAWA

Deepak Khandelwal had dropped his sisters, Chandra (21) and Manju (19), at the airport. He was supposed to go with them and even had the ticket. But he chose to stay back for a summer computer programme at the University of Calgary.

After the blast, he accompanied his father to Ireland. Manju’s body was found but not Chandra’s. Manju was in the medical school, while Chandra was studying pharmacy.

In 1986, the Khandelwal family instituted two scholarships for female students at the University of Saskatchewan in memory of Chandra and Manju.

“My sisters were Canadian citizens. The government let us down. The families were treated horribly. It was never seen as a Canadian tragedy,” says Deepak.

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