By K Raveendran
Incidents of safety concerns surrounding Air India have become as routine as the weather snippet in a newspaper. What should have been extraordinary events meriting immediate and serious introspection have now assumed the quality of the mundane, the familiar, and the tragically predictable. The most recent fire in the Auxiliary Power Unit (APU) of an Air India aircraft would, in any well-functioning aviation ecosystem, have been seen as a red flag—not just for that specific aircraft, or even for that fleet, but for the management culture and safety protocol enforcement across the airline. Instead, barely forty-eight hours later, another aircraft skidded off the runway in Mumbai while yet another aborted take-off in Delhi due to technical issues. Together, these incidents encapsulate the decline of what was once India’s most iconic airline into a symbol of operational laxity and public mistrust.
It is not that one-off safety incidents are unheard of in aviation; even the best-run airlines face occasional technical snags. However, what sets the Air India situation apart is the frequency, the clustering, and above all the pattern of neglect that seems to lie behind them. Between these headline-grabbing emergencies and the more obscure but telling indicators of procedural failure—such as nine separate safety-related notices issued over just six months—it is increasingly evident that Air India has a systemic safety culture problem. The cumulative effect of these notices, covering five different safety violations, is not only to highlight a recurring failure to comply with established safety protocols but also to raise fundamental questions about accountability, transparency, and oversight.
Equally troubling is the apparent normalisation of these failings. In most global aviation industries, recurring safety violations would trigger audits, staff reshuffles, and visible course corrections. With Air India, however, the response has oscillated between bureaucratic platitudes and cosmetic crisis management. There seems to be little will to overhaul the structure of safety compliance, or even to admit publicly that there is a deep problem that cannot be explained away as mere coincidence or bad luck.
This erosion of credibility is not just confined to the domestic sector. In the Gulf region—one of Air India’s most crucial and historically loyal markets—the situation is dire. Reports indicate that tickets on Air India flights are going abegging despite steep discounts. These are sectors where flights are typically full, catering to the large Indian diaspora and business travellers. That even massive price cuts are failing to lure passengers back into Air India’s fold is a damning commentary on how far public trust has collapsed. Safety, it seems, is not something even the most budget-conscious traveller is willing to compromise on anymore.
The consequences of such a collapse in confidence are manifold. First, it damages India’s aviation image abroad. Air India, as the once flag carrier, was never just another airline—it represented the country’s aviation capabilities, its service culture, and, to some degree, the government’s commitment to public sector excellence. The Maharaja mascot was not merely a whimsical branding choice; it once symbolised a standard of care, sophistication, and reliability that rivalled the best airlines in the world. To see that legacy squandered in a maze of mismanagement, cost-cutting, and negligence is nothing short of tragic.
Second, the economic cost is substantial. Maintaining a fleet that is frequently grounded due to maintenance lapses or technical snags incurs huge costs—not just in repairs and delays, but in lost ticket sales, compensation, legal exposure, and reputational damage. In the fiercely competitive aviation sector, every grounded aircraft is an opportunity lost to low-cost carriers and foreign airlines, many of whom are more than eager to take over routes and passenger bases that Air India seems increasingly unable to retain. The Gulf sector scenario is a case in point: passengers who shift to Emirates, Qatar Airways, or even IndiGo for safety and reliability reasons are unlikely to return to Air India in a hurry.
Third, morale within the airline is deeply affected by such recurring issues. Pilots, cabin crew, and ground staff are on the frontlines of customer interactions. When faced with irate passengers, media glare, and the burden of justifying failures they had no control over, staff morale takes a hit. In the absence of visible reform or improvement, it becomes harder to attract or retain talent—creating a vicious cycle where poor service and technical shortcomings reinforce each other.
Some of these issues predate Air India’s recent privatisation under the Tata Group, but the handover came with great public expectation. There was a widespread belief that the airline would be revitalised under private management, drawing from Tata’s legacy in aviation and its reputation for professionalism. While some efforts have clearly been made—such as improving service standards and integrating various Tata aviation brands into a cohesive whole—safety remains the elephant in the room. No amount of glossy marketing or loyalty program revamps can substitute for passengers’ basic expectation that an aircraft will not catch fire, slide off a runway, or abort take-off due to technical errors.
This raises the uncomfortable but necessary question: is the Tata management doing enough to change the DNA of the airline, or has it underestimated the magnitude of the rot that had set in over decades of bureaucratic indifference? A turnaround of a national carrier is not merely a commercial challenge; it is an organizational transformation task. It involves re-engineering not just supply chains and booking systems, but attitudes, incentives, and institutional memory. It means confronting difficult legacies, holding people accountable, and communicating a new culture of no-compromise when it comes to safety. (IPA Service)
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