An ode to MiG-21: Farewell, my Faithful Falcon...

It’s never easy to say goodbye to an old friend, especially one that carried you through the skies, through trials and triumphs, in the formative years of your life. As the Indian Air Force prepares to phase out the last of its MiG-21 aircraft next month, I find myself gripped by a quiet, aching nostalgia.

I first met the MiG-21 as a young fighter pilot fresh out of the Air Force Academy on a hazy winter morning in December 1992, on the tarmac of 101 Squadron, the Falcons of Chhamb and Akhnoor, at Sirsa Air Base. It was love at first sight. The aircraft's unique design, sleek look, and eye-catching delta-wing profile, which gave it a reputation as a potent air combat platform, was simply irresistible.

In the days that followed, I discovered that the MiG-21 was a machine that didn’t forgive mistakes, but taught discipline, respect, and resilience. It demanded precision and offered no shortcuts. It didn’t just shape pilots, it forged warriors. In the IAF, it became more than an aircraft; it was a crucible that defined generations of air warriors, including me.

In combat, it was often underestimated until it was too late. Its agility, blistering speed, and low radar signature allowed it to punch above its weight and outmanoeuvre many larger, more advanced adversaries.

The Type-96 variant that I flew had key upgrades, like four pylons instead of two, a deadly GSh-23 cannon, and a zero-altitude ejection seat. Capable of soaring above 18 km and reaching speeds over Mach 2, it delivered a visceral experience of power and precision. The cockpit was cramped, the workload challenging, and every mission pushed you to the edge, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

But the MiG-21’s story began long before I strapped into its cockpit.

The MiG-21 FL first roared into Indian skies in the 1960s, and by the 1971 Indo-Pak War, it had already etched its name into combat history. During the Bangladesh Liberation War, MiG-21s dominated the skies, scored critical kills, and ensured air superiority. Among its most iconic moments was the precision strike on the Governor's House in Dhaka on 14 December 1971.

During the 1999 Op Safed Sagar, where I flew MiG-27s, the MiG-21 variants Type 96 and Bis, once again proved their mettle. They flew daring missions in treacherous terrain, provided close air support, and stood their ground amid evolving threats. It reminded the world that age is no barrier when will and skill align.

The Bison upgrade brought modern avionics, radar, and BVR missiles into its Cold War-era frame, extending the aircraft’s relevance into the 21st century, an achievement few of its vintage could claim.

The ultimate test came in 2019, when, as the IAF’s spokesperson, I witnessed one of our MiG-21 Bisons shooting down a Pakistani F-16, proving the platform's continued lethality.

Critics often point to its accident rate, but those who flew it knew the truth. The MiG-21 was not flawed; it was honest. It didn’t pamper you. It demanded mastery. Every take-off was a contract signed with confidence, every landing, a reaffirmation of skill.

Today’s pilots fly fighters that are safer, smarter, and far more advanced. But they may never know the raw intimacy we had with our machines, no fly-by-wire, no margin for error: just a man, a machine, and the sky.

As it taxis out for the final time, the MiG-21 leaves behind more than an empty hangar. It leaves a legacy of grit, glory, and guardianship. It leaves behind men and women who earned their steel in its cockpit. It leaves behind me, a pilot forever indebted.

Adieu, my faithful falcon. You were never just metal and wires; you were spirit and soul.

You may retire, but you will never be forgotten.

(The writer is a retired fighter pilot of the IAF. He flew many variants of the MiGs, including the legendary MiG-21s.)

Anupam Banerjee