From Santhal Soil to Rafale Skies: The Flight That Redefined Power

India’s first tribal president just became the first Indian leader to fly both a Sukhoi and a Rafale. But the real story isn’t about jets—it's about who gets to sit in them.

On Wednesday morning, President Droupadi Murmu stepped into the cockpit of a Rafale fighter at Ambala Air Force Station. Dressed in a G-suit, helmet in hand, sunglasses on, she climbed into a $90 million aircraft that roared to 15,000 feet and hit speeds near 700 km/h for a 30-minute sortie piloted by Group Captain Amit Gehani. When she landed, she wrote: “This first flight on the potent Rafale aircraft has instilled in me a renewed sense of pride in the nation’s defence capabilities.”

Technically, it’s historic: Murmu is the first Indian president to fly a Rafale, and the first to have flown two different frontline fighters. But the deeper story isn’t about hardware. It’s about representation — and about the quiet power of claiming seats that were never meant for you.

A President Takes Flight in Wartime Hardware

The Rafale jets at Ambala are operational combat aircraft, the same platforms that flew in recent cross-border strikes and other high-tempo missions. Murmu’s sortie came amid a heightened security posture, and it was no mere photo-op: she flew in aircraft that have been battle-tested and briefed on by senior air-force leadership. That timing turns a ceremonial gesture into a clear statement of national capability and civilian familiarity with the instruments of defence.

The Unexpected Angle: Representation That’s Not Performance

Droupadi Murmu’s life began in Uparbeda, a remote tribal village in Odisha. Born into a Santhal family and raised with few resources, she became the first woman from her village to earn a university degree, worked as a teacher and a clerk, and endured personal tragedies. Rising from that background to the Republic’s highest constitutional office and then into a Rafale cockpit is more than symbolism. It reframes who belongs at the apex of national power.

When earlier presidents flew fighter sorties, the optics fit the existing narrative: a scientist-president familiar with military tech, a president from a political dynasty, and so on. Murmu breaks that pattern. She represents more than herself: she embodies millions of marginalized citizens who rarely see themselves reflected in the instruments of state power.

The People Who Made This Possible

• Droupadi Murmu — a tribal woman whose arc from village school to presidency reframes access to power in India. Her focus on tribal welfare and grassroots uplift shapes why this flight matters beyond optics.
• Group Captain Amit Gehani — the Rafale pilot responsible for safety and the operational conduct of the sortie; a professional whose task was both technical and symbolic.
• Air Chief Marshal A.P. Singh — whose presence and participation signalled institutional respect for civilian leadership while underscoring that this was a substantive military familiarization, not a pageant.

What Happens Next: Ripple Effects to Watch

• The sortie sets a precedent: future presidents may be expected to engage directly with defence platforms in operational settings.
• Images of Murmu with India’s first woman Rafale pilot reshape recruitment narratives and send a potent message to women and marginalized communities about who can aspire to combat roles.
• Internationally, the sight of a tribal woman at the controls of an advanced combat aircraft undermines narratives that India is divided and fragmented; it projects unity and resilience.

The BIGSTORY Reframe:

The standard reading sees Murmu’s Rafale sortie as a morale-boosting show of military strength. The richer reading is that this is what a functioning democracy looks like when it actually works: leadership accessible to someone who began life in a village without power or privilege.

And yet the moment also invites an uncomfortable question: if representation matters this much, why is it still exceptional? Murmu is the first tribal president in 75 years of the republic, though tribals are a significant portion of the population. Her flight should be a beginning, not an outlier.

The Question Nobody’s Asking

If a woman born in a remote hamlet can sit in a Rafale cockpit, what does that say about the limits we place on everyone else? The hard answer: most of those limits are permission structures, not capability checks. Murmu’s flight is proof that belonging is claimed as much as it is granted.

That’s the story worth lingering over: not just that the Rafale is potent, but that democracy means giving once-excluded citizens the right to claim the nation’s instruments of power — and to be seen doing so.