A youngish pilot I liked on our very first encounter. He was modest and self-effacing. I found him a man of few words, yet he was soft-spoken and friendly. I told him that, despite my executive duties, my first love was writing and reading. In response he said that flying was his first love and he liked the simple life of a pilot. He wanted nothing better than working his allotted hours and then returning to his wife and two small children.
I was taken aback when his co-pilot later confided in me that he was actually the son of Indira Gandhi, the first female Prime Minister of India. There were rumors that his mother wanted him to assist her and begin a career in politics. When I next encountered him at the airport, I alluded to the rumor, saying I would miss seeing him on my flights. He said he would never leave flying. He loved it and he loved the life it allowed him.
“I don’t want to do anything else,” he said. “I just want to fly and watch my children grow up.”
Would he be able to retain the simple life with his family he loved so much, I wondered.