Glitter almost frittered away

Ultraluxury goods purchased for a song from the state’s Toshakhana have become an albatross around the neck of the deposed Pakistani PM Imran Khan. Luckily, my colleagues and I faced no hassles when we received a valuable gift half a century ago from the royal family in appreciation of our official duties. The gift was a bit costly, but within prescribed limits, so we could retain it. Unfortunately, it became a bone of contention between me and a colleague with whom I had flown a royal passenger in an Air Force plane half a century ago.

Our royal passenger was Queen Mother of Iran, the mother of Emperor Mohammed Raza Shah Pahalvi of Iran, who held titles like Shahanshah (King of Kings) and Aryamehr (Light of the Aryans). She was on a state visit to India, and the elite Air Hq’s Communication Squadron was assigned the task of flying her from Delhi to many tourist spots in India. On the conclusion of the four-day tour, our passenger graciously presented beautiful gifts to us. As per the standard operating procedure, we intimated our commanding officer and were allowed to retain the gold Parker pen and ballpoint pen set each of us received. Receiving gifts of symbolic value from our VVIP state guests was routine for us in the squadron.

We proudly displayed such souvenirs in our living rooms, but the gold pen set was neither an artefact nor could I put it to daily use for fear of losing it. It remained unused for many months until I felt sorry for wasting away the prized possession. I clipped it to my flying uniform’s pocket one day while proceeding for another VIP flight. By sheer coincidence, the senior pilot once again was the same one who had been on the Queen Mother’s flight.

After the sortie, he searched his pockets for his pen, but in vain. Then he noticed the gold pen in my breast pocket and testily remarked that grownups did not play such pranks. I protested, but he refused to heed my advice to search for his pen elsewhere. He said that he had retained it as a souvenir for many months and would hate losing it the very first day he put it to use. No amount of pleading convinced him that it was my pen that he wanted pulled out of my pocket. He insisted that I was stretching the practical joke too far.

In sheer despair, to avoid the ignominy, I asked the technicians team to search every inch of the cockpit where a loose object could cause a serious accident. Lo and behold, they found it hiding in an inaccessible nook behind the pilot’s seat. I beamed with pleasure while my friend smiled sheepishly. Both of us sent our precious pens back to solitary confinement thereafter. I guess confiscation of Imran Khan’s luxury gifts would be as painful for him as the usurpation of my precious possession would have been for me that day.