From Kailashar’s Dust to the Kingdom of Clouds!!!
Biswanath Bhattacharya
December 6, 2025
In the forgotten corner of Tripura, where the sleepy town of Kailashar breathes beneath the quiet guardianship of hills, lies a runway that no longer knows the thunder of engines. Once alive with urgency during the Indo-Pak conflict of 1971, when it served as a launchpad for the Mukti Bahini’s first daring missions, the airstrip now lies in silence, its cracked spine filled with stubborn grass, its terminal drowned in moss, as if nature itself has reclaimed what man abandoned. Yet for a boy named Arnab, this derelict strip was not a ruin—it was a prophecy written in dust.
He would stand by the rusted grill, his bicycle leaning against it like a loyal companion, eyes fixed on the sky. Jets, no more than silver specks, carved white scars across the heavens. Arnab’s gaze clung to those trails, chasing them beyond oceans, beyond continents, into the realm of impossible dreams. To him, each contrail was a ladder, each roar of an engine a hymn, summoning him to a kingdom far above the clouds.
At home, reality was stern and unyielding. His father, Bimal Roy, ran a modest cloth shop in Kailashar’s bazaar, where bolts of fabric hung like muted rainbows. His mother counted every coin with care, her fingers trembling with the arithmetic of survival. When Arnab confessed his desire to become a pilot, silence fell like a blade. His mother’s voice quivered with practicality: “Pilots are born to the rich. You must study for a government job.” But Arnab’s heart was deaf to caution. He was not born to till the soil—he was born to command the sky, to ride the wind as a horseman rides his steed.
Neighbors laughed. “Bimal’s boy wants to fly planes? Can he even ride his cycle straight?” But Arnab’s resolve was iron forged in fire. He conquered physics and mathematics, topping his district, his mind soaring where his body could not. Then came the true trial—money. Flying schools demanded fortunes. His father mortgaged their ancestral home, a house that had sheltered generations. His mother pressed her wedding ornaments into his hands, whispering through tears, “We give you all we have. Do not let us down.” Their sacrifice was the fuel that lit his wings.
Arnab carried their hopes across seas, to the Philippines. There, among cadets from wealthy families, he was mocked for his broken English and simple clothes. Nights brought him memories of the Monu River’s breeze, of his mother’s fish curry simmering in clay pots. But each dawn reminded him of the debt, of his father’s weary face, of the airstrip that once echoed with warplanes and now waited for his triumph. He swore he would not break.
While others partied, Arnab lived in simulators. He mastered drills, emergency landings, navigation charts. The boy who once stammered on the radio became the cadet instructors trusted most in crisis. His grit turned ridicule into respect, his silence into authority.
Years passed. At Dubai International Airport, a colossal Emirates Boeing 777 stood ready for New York. In its cockpit sat First Officer Arnab Roy, shoulders gleaming with golden stripes, his voice steady and flawless as it flowed to Air Traffic Control.
As the engines roared, Arnab closed his eyes. In that heartbeat, he saw again the abandoned runway of Kailashar, where a boy once dreamed with nothing but a bicycle and the sky. Moments later, the aircraft tore through the clouds, climbing to 35,000 feet, a steel bird ascending into eternity.
“This is your First Officer Arnab Roy speaking…”
In a tin-roofed house in Kailashar, Bimal Roy and his wife may not have heard their son’s words. But their hearts swelled with pride. Arnab had proven that runways may crumble, airports may die, but dreams—dreams never abandon those who dare. From the dust of Kailashar, a boy had risen to the kingdom of clouds, carrying Tripura’s spirit on wings of fire. And just beyond the town, in the forested slopes of Unakoti, where a million gods turned to stone under Shiva’s curse, Arnab’s ascent seemed like a continuation of that legend—a mortal boy who defied fate, carving his own place among the heavens.
(Tripurainfo)
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