Runway Reckoning

The death of former Deputy Chief Minister Ajit Pawar in a plane crash at the Baramati airstrip has shaken Maharashtra’s political establishment like no other event in recent political history. It is a personal tragedy for a family that has dominated the politics of western Maharashtra for decades.

The preliminary findings into the Learjet crash at Baramati deepen the tragedy of late Deputy Chief Minister’s death and sharpen uncomfortable questions about negligence, oversight and political responsibility.

The Aircraft Accident Investigation Bureau (AAIB), in its initial report, flags a chain of failures from pilots’ non-adherence to standard operating procedures, low visibility and the absence of basic meteorological facilities at what it describes as an “uncontrolled” airfield.

The AAIB’s interim safety recommendations are telling. It has asked the Directorate General of Civil Aviation (DGCA) to ensure stricter compliance with standard operating procedures at uncontrolled airfields, particularly adherence to minimum visibility norms. It recommends strengthening oversight and audits, introducing basic meteorological facilities and examining whether such aerodromes should be formally licensed to ensure regulated operations.

That a figure of Ajit Pawar’s stature should perish in an aviation accident at his political home turf of Baramati is tragic enough. But tragedy turns into indictment when the airstrip was functioning without adequate safety protocols.

If an airfield was cleared for training activity without robust safeguards, the responsibility must fall on New Delhi and its aviation regulators. Yet it would be disingenuous to confine scrutiny to the Centre alone. Baramati is not an anonymous outpost. It is the political citadel of the Pawar family. For decades, its development narrative has been intertwined with the ambitions of Sharad Pawar, Ajit Pawar and Supriya Sule. If an airstrip in this political bastion functioned with subpar oversight, its local representatives cannot plead ignorance.

This is not an exercise in blame-seeking at a moment of grief. Ajit Pawar himself built a career on managerial competence. As a senior leader of the NCP and a multiple-term Deputy Chief Minister, he combined administrative stamina with a reputation for hands-on governance. He was often described as a politician who understood files and figures better than slogans. To honour that legacy requires clarity about what went wrong.

There is a deeper unease here about India’s tier-two infrastructure. Across the country, small airstrips have been revived or expanded under ambitious regional-connectivity schemes. They are symbols of aspiration, linking provincial towns to national circuits of commerce and power. But an airfield is not a ribbon-cutting opportunity. It requires constant maintenance, transparent audits and independent scrutiny.

If Baramati’s airstrip was indeed operating as a training hub, were safety drills regularly conducted? Were emergency services adequately staffed?

Ajit Pawar’s death is a shock to Maharashtra’s political establishment. If the Baramati crash was the result of avoidable negligence, it also exposes a paradox at the heart of Indian federalism that strong leaders in family strongholds can still preside over weak systems.