Yesterday, at Chandigarh Air Base, the roar of the MiG-21 echoed for the last time. The famed No. 23 Squadron “Panthers” flew its final ortie, marking the Indian Air Force’s farewell to a warhorse that dominated our skies for over six decades. For me, as a soldier who once watched these jets streak across the battlefield, its retirement is more than the end of an era—it is the closing of a chapter that helped shape India’s military history.
The MiG-21 entered Indian service in 1963, at a time when our air power was still finding its feet. It was India’s first supersonic fighter, capable of speeds over Mach 2, and it instantly changed the balance of aerial combat in South Asia. Over the years, India acquired more than 850 aircraft across various variants, including those built by Hindustan Aeronautics Limited (HAL).
The aircraft’s debut in the 1965 Indo-Pak war was nothing short of historic. I still recall the awe with which our men on the ground would look up as these needle-nosed fighters thundered past. The MiG-21 was not just an aircraft; it was reassurance—a sign that the Indian tricolour ruled the skies. By the 1971 war, the MiG-21 had cemented its place as the backbone of the IAF. Its agility and sheer velocity gave India a decisive edge. Later, in Kargil in 1999, it was still pressed into service for ground-attack roles, and in 2019, during the Balakot operations, MiG-21s scrambled once more to guard Indian airspace.
The MiG-21 was both a symbol of India’s courage and a sobering reminder of the cost of flying combat machines on the edge of their lifespan. On the one hand, its performance earned it the affection and respect of generations of pilots. Some called it unforgiving, others called it a pure pilot’s aircraft, but no one doubted its lethality in the right hands.
Yet, its other reputation is hard to ignore. With over 400 crashes and nearly 200 pilot fatalities, the MiG-21 also carried the infamous sobriquets “Flying Coffin” and “Widow Maker.” Much of this was not because of inherent flaws, but because we stretched its service life far beyond what was originally intended. Ageing airframes, limitations in upgrades, and gaps in pilot training created tragic vulnerabilities. That is a memory etched painfully into the consciousness of the armed forces.
The retirement of the MiG-21 does not weaken India’s resolve in the skies. Rather, it clears the runway for the next generation. The indigenously developed Light Combat Aircraft Tejas Mk 1A will now step in to take over squadrons like those at Nal Air Force Station. Alongside, the IAF’s modern fleet boasts Rafales, Sukhois, and soon, the Advanced Medium Combat Aircraft (AMCA)—a project that could place India among the few nations with a stealth fighter.
Still, challenges remain. The IAF’s strength is now down to 29 fighter squadrons—the lowest since the 1965 war. To plug this gap, India must accelerate Tejas production and seriously invest in future technologies. The government’s Make in India thrust is welcome, but it will need both speed and scale to match the looming threats on our borders. Parallel evaluations of fifth-generation platforms like the F-35 and Su-57 reflect the urgency.
At Chandigarh, the ceremony on Friday was not just a military ritual; it was an emotional farewell. The aircraft will be officially “number plated”—retired from service and preserved as history. Air Commodore Surendra Singh Tyagi (retd.), who logged over 4,300 flight hours on MiG-21s, has sought one last take-off, a fitting personal salute to the jet that defined his career.
For men like him, and for soldiers like me who served beneath their protective wings, the MiG-21 was more than a fighter—it was a comrade in arms. It gave India confidence at its most critical moments, from the tense skies of 1965 to the strikes of 2019.
As India retires the MiG-21, we must remember both its glory and its grief. It embodied valour, speed, and national pride. It also demanded heavy sacrifices. For 62 years, it stood guard, taking the brunt of combat, attrition, and even policy delays.
Now, as we look to the future—with Tejas, Rafales, and AMCA—the legacy of the MiG-21 should guide us: never again should we stretch a warrior past its prime, and never again should we compromise pilot safety for want of timely modernization.
The MiG-21 bows out not in defeat, but in dignity. Its echo will linger every time an Indian jet slices the sky. For those of us who wore the uniform, it will forever remain the fighter that taught India to fly supersonic.
