VICG Chandigarh, Punjab, India

World Heritage Sites Air Adventures: Peaks, Prayer Flags & Palaces
Flight Log #010 – July 18, 2025
Episode: Concrete, Clouds & Chandigarh
Log Entry by Michael Palin, Guest Co-Pilot

Episode Sponsor
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The DHC-5 Buffalo, “Pāpulō,” awaited us on Jodhpur’s tarmac—a stoic giant, rumored to hum louder at the mere mention of UNESCO coordinates. Cropduster thumped its side, declaring the morning’s mission a rendezvous with modernity, masala, and perhaps a sly biscuit or two for our ever-vigilant canine crew, Lani and Kai. Their breakfast—proudly approved by chef and veterinarian—vanished before the first engine cough.

We filed our VFR plan, aligning compass with curiosity: Jodhpur to Chandigarh, 3,000 feet, weaving the airways above Indian fields set like quilt patches. The Buffalo’s wings swept wide, slicing through ochre haze and dreamy geography, both literal and culinary—a panorama seasoned with anticipation (and, from the galley, the scent of chai and turbulence-proof laddoos).

Cropduster, never one for a quiet ascent, filled the cockpit with trivia and speculation: “Did you know Le Corbusier nearly built the High Court as a marble cathedral?” “How many steps from buffet to cockpit before optimum noodle slurp velocity?” The galley's output, ever inventive, was closely inspected by Lani and Kai—first for taste, then for stability under G-forces.

As we closed with Chandigarh, the land surrendered its centuries-old tangles to the strict lines of Swiss idealism grafted onto Indian soil. Below us, the Capitol Complex—Le Corbusier’s concrete tribute to ambition—unfurled: the High Court, formidable enough for trials of unlicensed noodle smugglers; the Assembly’s subtle arcs; the Open Hand Monument, which from this height looked ready to accept an airdropped bowl of ramen (or perhaps a strongly-brewed espresso).

The Buffalo became a sky-bound salon. The Ramen Passports were ceremoniously stamped (and mildly spattered), while tales of stepwells, emergency airdrops, and debates over architectural merit mixed with the warm soup air. Crew laughter bounced through the cabin, and somewhere aft, a steward secretly wagered on the smoothness of today’s landing against our last.

Chandigarh’s grid blinked below, promising order and perhaps a touch of whimsy. Our landing was precise—taxiing with just enough flair to suggest we, too, could appreciate a well-drawn perpendicular. Cropduster suggested we sample regional samosas as a further study in geometry; I agreed, on scholarly principle.

The sun offered its respectable bow behind the Capitol’s retro-futuristic skyline as “Pāpulō” came to rest, proud and square on the apron. Lani and Kai settled in with a sense of accomplishment befitting world travelers—co-conspirators in both adventure and snack appreciation.

With only two official World Heritage Sites left before the close of this epic, the Buffalo and her crew find the story’s end just beyond the next cloud or cup of noodles. Perhaps, with the right encouragement (and a sufficiently stamped passport), there’ll be a detour to K-2—because one never knows when adventure and appetite might pull the Squadron skyward again.

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