In 1990, an Indian airlines A320 crashed in Bangalore killing 82 people. Among the lucky few who walked away from the disaster was the then 35-year-old builder Kumar Nadig. (In fact, a picture of Nadig walking out of the wrecked plane appeared on the cover of India Today, published by the same company that owns Business Today.) For years after the incident Nadig naturally had a fear of flying. The trauma induced by the crash used to make him break into cold sweat each time he had to fly. For five full years Nadig gave up flying even if it meant undertaking uncomfortable train and bus journeys. Today, 14 years after the event, not only does Nadig fly, he even pilots a microlite. He credits microlites for helping him to overcome his fear of flying.

Not just Nadig, but a clutch of aviation enthusiasts in India's silicon valley are taking to flying microlites. Captain Arvind Sharma, the Managing Director of Agni Aerosports, one of the three city-based schools in Bangalore that trains people in the use of microlites says, "A basic microlite can be assembled for just around Rs 5-6 lakh, which is the equivalent of buying a car for a middle class person." That, though, is the most mundane of explanations for Bangalore's growing obsession with microlites. As if realising this, the captain adds, "Once the passion for flying catches on, then it becomes very hard to give up."

Microlites seem to possess a strange but irresistible charm that endears them to men-well, some of them, at the least. Sharma's first microlite was built with the engine of a motorcycle popular in the 1980s, Yezdi; he changed this later to that of a Yamaha 350 cc; the shock absorbers of this vehicle came from a Kinetic Honda scooterette, and its brake drums from a Luna moped.

It is the ability of being able to assemble a microlite with commercially available parts that is half the fun. Microlites typically use motorcycle or lawnmower engines although certified engines that cost more are available. They usually cruise at around 120 kilometres per hour, consume around 14 litres of petrol per hour, and can stay in the air for five hours at a stretch. There's more: microlites can be designed to be open to the elements, with the wind rushing past you.

Red Barones: Bangalore Aerosports' Audrey Maben trains wannabe pilots to fly microlites such as this one

It's An Addictive Sport...

Microlites are new to Indian skies. India's late Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi, a trained pilot himself, cleared the use of Microlites in the civil sector in 1989. Since then microlite flying has taken off in the country. Those who are into it swear by the hobby. "Ask any young kid what he wants to become, he will say a pilot. The grounded man has always envied the birds for their airborne ability. It has been mankind's earliest dream to be able to soar into the sky and see things which he cannot from the ground. Aviation is very addictive," says Anil Bagalwadi, a real estate developer. "Microlite flying is like experiencing an orgasm," continues the man. "It is intense. It allows me to relax and forget everything. It is just me and the machine high up in the clouds."

On most days, Jakkur aerodrome on the outskirts of the city is a deserted place with only the occasional stray dog. But on weekends, there is a huge buzz here as aviation enthusiasts congregate to get their weeks' high. One such is S. Rajan, a software engineer during the week. "Indians are usually risk-averse and shun adventure sports," says Rajan. "After being in front of a pc for 12 hours, five days a week, I need a high."

...But The Red Tape's Thick

A microlite doesn't need to be certified by any agency. Ideally, a single-seater should weigh less than 330 kgs and a twin-seater, 450. A microlite can reach a cruising height of around 11,000 feet although most fliers prefer to stick closer to the ground, 3,000 feet or so. And the species comes with its limitations. "They cannot be flown at night," says Wing Commander (Retd.) Ashok Mehta who runs a microlite training school, Bangalore Aerosports, along with his wife Audrey Maben. "They can be flown only during fair weather conditions, and they cannot be used for aerobatics." Mehta is convinced that more people would take to flying if the government eased regulations a bit. That's a valid gripe: today, it takes a wannabe microlite pilot six months to obtain a security clearance from the home ministry and as long as a year for several permissions from the Director General of Civil Aviation (DGCA).

Even that, however, is unlikely to make microlites a mass phenomenon. "A microlite's cost varies between Rs 5 lakh and Rs 20 lakh," says Captain Sharma. "It costs Rs 4,000 per hour to keep the aircraft in the air; then there are maintenance and hangar charges."

Microlites can be assembled in the backyard, but Captain Sharma advises against doing so. "For instance the bolt and nuts commercially available can be used. AN (Army-Navy) standard nuts and bolts cost 10 times as much, but they possess the ability to withstand shear stress that much more." The good Captain speaks from experience. He started off with home-made planes, but has since progressed to certified microlites after several close shaves, including a few emergency landings in paddy fields.

Rajan believes the inherent danger is part of the charm of microlites. "If there is no element of reasonable danger involved, it becomes boring."

To cut down cost of ownership, Captain Sharma's Agni is exploring a part-ownership option wherein three of four people could, together, own a microlite. "For the numerous techies in Bangalore, it would be just the cost of buying a car," reckons Sharma.

Rajan is already trying to convince three other friends to own a microlite. "I don't need to sell the concept to them," he brags. "All it requires is a spin with me."