Monday, October 19, 2026
Ranjit Devraj
- After a MiG 21 fighter plane ploughed into a bank building Friday, the Indian Air Force had no choice but to partially ground its fleet of what has come to be known as the “flying coffin” due to its abnormally high attrition rate.
Over the last five years, the Russian-designed, Indian-built, MiG 21 fighters have been dropping out of the skies at the rate of one every month.
Apart from causing the deaths of pilots, this is seriously depleting what is still the world’s fourth largest air force, although equipped mostly with vintage, Soviet-era models from the MiG series.
Only one of the 105 MiG 21 fighters lost since 1992 went down in a combat situation — during the 1999 undeclared war at Kargil, on the disputed Line-of-Control that which separates the Indian side of Kashmir from the Pakistan-held side of the long-disputed, alpine territory.
Most of the fighter jets were on training sorties. Indeed, the MiG 21 has earned the nickname “flying coffin” rather than the equally macabre “widow-maker” — because most of the 40 pilots who died flying them over the past decade had been young rookies clocking up supersonic flying time before moving on to more expensive aircraft.
One young pilot described flying the MiG 21 “as exhilarating but a bit too much like a Nintendo video game set at the highest level. Too many of my friends have paid high penalties for mistakes and are crippled or dead”.
The loudest protests against Indian Air Force’s policy of using the unforgiving MiG 21 as trainers, in the absence of suitable trainer aircraft, come from the parents of young pilots who fear for the lives of their young sons or are grieving for lost offspring.
“Ever since I lost my son in a MiG-21 crash, I have been trying to tell the air force authorities that they have no right to play with the lives of young pilots,” said Sandhya Shukla, mother of a late pilot, Shreya Shukla.
There may even be a case for arguing that the MiG 21 is more dangerous to fly in peacetime than during combat operations.
For example, flying officer Pankaj Joshi survived several murderous missions attacking high-altitude bunkers set up by the Pakistanis on the mountain tops at Kargil, only to die in a typical MiG 21 accident two months after the war ended. Aged 25, Joshi was newly married.
But air force top brass swear by the MiG 21 and in spite of Friday’s grounding of the fighter plane, now limited to particular variant and to training operations, it will continue to be in service through the present decade.
The Indian Air Force is said to have 450 MiG-21s in its inventory. It is also the biggest user outside Russia of what was the largest-selling fighter of all time, considering that some 7,000 of them have been built. The Russians are now keen to sell the entire aircraft producing plant to India.
Soon after Friday’s crash, air chief S. Krishnaswamy told journalists that MiG 21 squadrons deployed on the border would remain in a state of “operational readiness” because of the military standoff with Pakistan.
Krishnaswamy defended the MiG-21 and said the engine flameout problem that caused last week’s crash would be sorted out “within 10 days” at the hangars of the government-owned Hindustan Aeronautics Limited (HAL), which manufactures the aircraft under license from the Russians.
In an attempt to prove its reliability and safety in the face of growing criticism, Krishnaswamy’s predecessor, A Y Tipnis took the unusual step of personally taking a MiG-21 through its paces and performing difficult manoeuvres on it in the view of journalists.
He did this in October 2000, two months after Shukla’s death.
But even Tipnis, credited with turning the tide of the Kargil war by bringing in Mirage 2000 fighters and smart munitions to take out high-altitude, mountain-top bunkers, has characterised the MiG-21, as a “high-demanding aircraft seeking skill and response of the highest order from pilots”.
No less than six high-powered committees, formed as a result of adverse publicity over the crashes, have condemned the MiG-21 on counts ranging from poor maintenance standards at the HAL to badly designed training programmes in which pilots are graduated to its straight from flying piston-engined planes.
Courts of inquiry, after planes crashes, usually lay blame on poor training and their reports typically read: “Due to a lack of situational awareness, the pilot committed a critical error which resulted in loss of the aircraft and/ or the pilot.”
Parents and widows of dead pilots usually challenge such findings, which are not carried out in a transparent manner and cite high-level reports that point to engine defects and poor maintenance.
Russian officials have accused HAL of trying attempt retrofits and upgrades of MiGs by involving French and Israeli firms without consulting the Mikoyan Design Bureau in Russia, which is familiar with the plane.
They have also accused the Indian Air Force of not sharing information on crashes.
In truth, however, India’s air force has little choice about the fighter. Defence purchase scams have scared successive governments from closing deals on one of several advanced jet trainer (AJT) models that have been competing for a deal worth a couple of billion dollars.
A proposal to buy 66 British Hawks has been hanging fire since 1992. But a sign that its maker, British Aeronautics, is close to clinching the deal comes from a recent proposal to sent 75 Indian pilots to the Royal Air Force for training.
“The proposal is part of negotiations with British Aerospace and the training is part of the Hawk AJT package,” an Indian air force official was quoted as saying.
Although the MiG-21 will see service in the air force until the end of the decade, its phasing out as a trainer will depend on the deal with the British coming through.
But if the present high attrition rate continues from the use of the MiG-21, there would not be too many around of them left to phase out.