To understand what is happening in POK today do see episode 38 of my podcast The Great Game Reloaded of 29 Sep 2025. It explains demands of the Awami Action Committee including the 12 reserved seats issues and what the government had promised last year. youtube.com/watch?v=B1HUMjwO…

I just got this book as a gift—- yay‼️ The PASHTUNS by @tilakdevasher1 sir Wow❣️ Just when I needed it. 😊

ispr lifafa journalists sethi & mir said , they also have the cipher & they said cipher had nothing in it. 🤡🤡🤡 @sushantsareen @tilakdevasher1 .

For your weekend viewing. Manish Tewari and Tilak Devasher discuss the notoriously difficult concept of deterrence vis a vis Pakistan One year of #OpSindoor @ManishTewari @tilakdevasher1 youtu.be/RxDEzLXG598?si=1m4K…

#NatStrat was delighted to conduct a day long Strategic Analysis and Critical Thinking table top exercise (TTX) for IFS mid-career diplomats at @SSIFS_MEA @PankajSaran11 @rajks73 @indiandiplomats @MEAIndia @tilakdevasher1 @Shantanu2818 #IranWar‌ #Pakistan #terrorism

Father and son have both served India well.

Brilliant comments...some almost Wodehousian!! Congratulations, Tilak.

Most flying logbooks are dry things. Aircraft type, sortie, timings, remarks. But every now and then, a logbook gives you something more valuable than operational detail. It gives you the man. Some time back, I gained access to the 1942-47 logbook of the late Air Vice Marshal Charandas Gurudas Devashar. In those years, he was still a very young pilot. What comes through is not just skill or service, but humour, irreverence, and the kind of understated cool that seems to belong to another age. In June 1942, flying an Audax at Ambala, he got caught in a dust storm. His remark after the episode was classic: “Got mixed up in a dust storm. Visibility very bad. (10 yards). Forcelanded. Crashed!” A few weeks later, on his birthday, he wrote: “18 years old today. Still in my teens, though.” That one line alone tells you plenty. Here was a boy in uniform, already flying military aircraft, still young enough to joke about being a teenager. The humour continues. On a dual check in Aug 1942: “Went through the drainage, cut the cable clean into two. Not much damage to a/c”. In September, after high-level bombing in a Hart: “One hit. 7 feet from the hill. A record until now” In Sep 1943 in the UK, flying a Master Mk II: “Got lost. Landed at another drome!” In March 1944, after evidently making a mess of a sortie at 53 OTU: “What a XXXX I made of myself” Two days later, on his first Spitfire sortie, the tone changes completely: “It sure feels good boy” A few weeks after that, during an exercise: “Finger trouble - Could not locate the R Sight switch”. There is something wonderfully unfiltered about all this. No grand retrospective. No heroic pose. Just the running commentary of a young pilot living it day by day. Then comes Burma, and the remarks become even more striking because the humour refuses to disappear. On 22 Sep 1944, flying a Hurricane IIc on a strike mission against Japanese hideouts: “Very Good result. Dir Strike. Killed 80 japs”. On 28 Sep: “Blew up an ammo dump near Pyinshewala. Smoke rising upto 100 feet”. On an offensive recce over the Kaladan River in November: “Didn’t see a sausage!”. The next day, on a bomb and strafe in the Paletwa area: “Finger trouble on the part of the pongos. Smoke every where but at the pin point”. One entry after a mission simply says: “Lots of fun. Left the village burning”. Another: “A very enjoyable party”. Those lines are jarring today, but that too is part of their value. They are raw wartime remarks, not polished memory. They show how young combat pilots coped, joked, and normalised danger while flying through it. Then there are the classic fighter-pilot lines. “Mid air collision, but we both got back”. “Lost my blue silk scarf”. In May 1945, while doing aerobatics in a Spitfire Mk VIII at Ranchi: “Lost my beautiful scarf”. Later that month, in formation: “Kept a date with PCA ‘Green I’.” In Sep 1945, after reaching 100 hours on Spitfires, he notes not just the milestone but life moving on around it: “100 hours on Spits. R for Maureen is born in No 4 Sqn RIAF”. The scarf saga, it turns out, did not end there. On 9 Jan 1946 comes the resigned line: “Lost my scarf again. This is the fifth one”. On 28 Dec 1945, after “Tich had Elbow trouble. Pranged!”, one can almost hear the ready-room humour behind the words. And in Aug-Sep 1946, after flying back from Japan to India via Miho, Bofu, Iwakuni, Shanghai, Hong Kong, Saigon, Bangkok, Rangoon, Calcutta and Palam, he signs off that chapter with a line of surprising grace: “And so we say goodbye to the land of rising sun”. Even in 1947, the voice remains intact. On 16 Feb 1947, flying a Spitfire Mk XIV at Hakimpet: “Pranged. Starboard tyre burst on take-off port on landing; Result Nose over”. Then, on 19 June 1947, flying a Tempest Mk II on live RP attacks: “DNCO. No 2 Dammit nearly wrote me off; cut my rudder. Btw 23 today!” Across five crowded years, you can actually hear the young man. The boy in these pages would go on to serve as Senior Air Staff Officer, Eastern Air Command, during the 1971 war, and later receive the PVSM. Many will also know the Devasher name today through his son, Tilak Devasher, author of Pakistan: Courting the Abyss, Pakistan: At the Helm, and Pakistan: The Balochistan Conundrum, and a former Member of the National Security Advisory Board. @tilakdevasher1 #IAFHistory @IAF_MCC