VOHS - Hyderabad Intl Arpt, India

World Heritage Sites Air Adventures: Peaks, Prayer Flags, & Palaces
Flight Log #002 – July 5, 2025
Clear Skies, Coffee, and Culture Edition
Log Entry by Michael Palin, Guest Co-Pilot

I woke in Kolkata to a sky so blue it could have been painted by a particularly optimistic artist. Not a monsoon cloud in sight—just the promise of a perfect flying day and the faint aroma of strong coffee wafting from the galley. Captain Cropduster greeted me with a grin and a mug of what he called “aviator’s espresso”—a brew so potent it could probably start the engines on its own.

The Tiger Shark Squadron’s support crew, usually armed with umbrellas and waterproof optimism, looked almost suspiciously cheerful as they prepped “Pāpulō,” our trusty DHC-5 Buffalo. Lani and Kai, the canine copilots, basked in the morning sun, their paws dry for once and their spirits as high as ours.
Before takeoff, Cropduster insisted we visit the Santiniketan Chai House—he claims it’s in the terminal, but I suspect it’s just a cleverly disguised waiting area with better biscuits. There, I sampled “Tagore’s Tranquility Brew,” a blend of Darjeeling tea, cardamom, and honey. Cropduster called it “a sip for the soul.” I called it breakfast, and Lani called dibs on the biscuit, as usual.

With caffeine levels peaking and the Buffalo’s engines humming, we lifted off from Kolkata, the city’s sprawl quickly giving way to the lush green of West Bengal. Our first waypoint was Santiniketan, Rabindranath Tagore’s living legacy. From above, the campus shimmered in the sunlight, a patchwork of red earth and leafy trees. I recited a Tagore verse, Lani howled in harmony, and Kai, ever the critic, gave us a look that said, “Stick to flying.”

Turning west, we soared over the ancient ruins of Nalanda Mahavihara. The grid of brick monasteries and silent lecture halls stood as a testament to centuries of scholarship. I imagined monks debating the finer points of ramen recipes—miso or shoyu, enlightenment or just a really good lunch. Cropduster, always the academic, mused, “If only ramen had been on the curriculum, enlightenment would have come sooner.” I made a note to suggest this to the next university I visit.

Heading south, the Sun Temple at Konark came into view, its chariot wheels and galloping stone horses catching the morning light. Even from altitude, the temple’s audacity was clear—a monument to the sun, built to move, even if only in spirit. Lani and Kai, unimpressed by solar deities, napped through the spectacle, dreaming of temple prasad and belly rubs. I, meanwhile, marveled at the ancient architects’ sense of humor and ambition.

Approaching Telangana, we traced the shimmering edge of Ramappa Lake before circling the star-shaped platform of the Ramappa Temple. The temple’s ornate pillars and legendary “floating bricks” drew a collective gasp from the crew. Cropduster, ever the engineer, scribbled notes for a future noodle shop with “levitating tables.” I suggested he start with floating dumplings and work his way up.

We touched down at Hyderabad just as the sun reached its zenith, the city alive with color, spice, and the unmistakable aroma of biryani. The crew was greeted by the clatter of auto-rickshaws, the promise of a well-earned feast, and the knowledge that we’d stitched together centuries of India’s layered history in a single day’s flight.

As the sun set over Hyderabad and the crew gathered for a celebratory meal, Cropduster stamped the Ramen Passports, Lani and Kai curled up for a well-deserved nap, and I found myself grateful for the adventure, the camaraderie, and the endless quest for the world’s wonders—one World Heritage Site (and one bowl of broth) at a time.
End Log.
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