On the final day of the Dubai Airshow 2025Al Maktoum International Airport, just after 2:10 p.m. local time on Friday, November 22, 2025, a Indian Air Force Tejas Light Combat Aircraft plunged from the sky during a low-altitude aerobatic maneuver, killing its pilot, Wing Commander Namanesh Shyal. He was 37. The jet, part of the No. 45 Squadron "Flying Daggers", had been dazzling crowds with India’s homegrown fighter — a symbol of national pride — when it suddenly went out of control. There was no time to react. No time to save him.
The Final Minutes
Wing Commander Shyal, a veteran pilot from Nagrota Bagwan in Kangra, Himachal Pradesh, was executing a negative-G turn — one of the most demanding maneuvers in airshow flying — when the Tejas lost lift. Witnesses say the aircraft dipped sharply, rolled violently, and slammed into the desert floor just meters from the crowd line. A plume of black smoke erupted. Fire crews rushed in, but the impact was too violent. He ejected — we know that now — but at just 80 feet above ground, the parachute never had time to deploy. The system worked. The timing didn’t.
Experts say this wasn’t a mechanical failure. Not really. The Tejas has an excellent safety record since its 2016 induction. Shyal wasn’t flying recklessly. He was flying precisely. The kind of precision that makes airshows breathtaking. He likely spent those final seconds trying to recover, wrestling the controls, hoping to pull out — because pilots like him don’t eject unless they have to. And when they do, they do it with purpose. He did. Too late.
A Pilot’s Legacy
Shyal wasn’t just any pilot. He was a graduate of the Sainik School, Sujanpur Tira in Himachal Pradesh. His father, Jagannath, was a retired army officer turned principal in the Himachal Pradesh education department. His wife, Wing Commander Afshan Akhtar, is also in the IAF. They had a six-year-old daughter. He was one of the few pilots cleared to fly the Tejas in international demonstrations — a rare honor. He’d flown the MiG-21, the Sukhoi Su-30MKI, and now, the Tejas. He wasn’t just representing India. He was proving it.
His training was meticulous. His discipline, legendary. Fellow pilots called him "the quiet professional." He didn’t seek the spotlight. But when given the chance to showcase India’s technological leap — the Tejas — he embraced it. Eight minutes. That’s all he had. Eight minutes to show the world what India could build. He gave them everything.
A Nation in Mourning
His body was flown back to India on Saturday, November 23. It arrived at Kangra Airport on Sunday morning. Thousands lined the roads as the hearse passed. At Air Force Station Sulur in Tamil Nadu, the IAF gave him full military honors — the folded flag, the 21-gun salute, the lone bugler playing "Last Post." Then, the final journey: to his village, Nagrota Bagwan. The same place where he learned to ride a bicycle, where his father taught him discipline, where his mother still wakes at dawn to pray for his safe return.
At the funeral, villagers wept openly. A schoolboy held a handmade sign: "We will fly your dreams." A retired IAF officer, 78 years old, saluted with a trembling hand. "He didn’t just die flying," he said. "He died showing the world we could build something better."
Global Tributes
Even as the airshow continued — music blaring, crowds cheering for the next act — the world paused.
The Russian Knights aerobatic team canceled their next performance. Instead, they flew a "Missing Man" formation — seven jets, then one pulling up sharply into the sky, leaving a gap. On social media, they wrote: "He didn’t come home. But his courage flew higher than any jet."
Team USA’s F-16 Fighting Falcon demo team pulled their entire show. Their commander, Major Heister, posted a video of the crash site, then a silent photo of the Tejas. "They kept playing rock music after he died," he wrote. "The show went on. But we all knew — it didn’t."
There were no official statements from the Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) or Hindustan Aeronautics Limited (HAL) immediately after. No blame. No rush. Just a quiet promise: "An investigation is underway."
What Happens Now?
This is only the second fatal Tejas crash since its 2016 induction. The first was in Jaisalmer in March 2024. Both involved low-altitude maneuvers. Both happened during training or demonstration flights. Not combat. Not testing. Performance.
Questions are rising. Should aerobatics be allowed at airshows? Are the ejection systems calibrated for the lowest possible altitudes? Are pilots being pushed too hard to impress crowds? The IAF has never publicly disclosed its aerobatic safety thresholds. But now, they will have to.
And the Tejas? It’s still India’s most important fighter project. 140+ ordered. 200+ more planned. This crash won’t kill it. But it will change how it’s flown. How it’s shown. How we honor those who fly it.
Why This Matters
Wing Commander Shyal didn’t die because the Tejas failed. He died because he refused to give up on it — until the very last second. He believed in the machine. He believed in the mission. He believed in India.
And now, we owe it to him to ask the hard questions — not to tear down the Tejas, but to make sure no other pilot has to die the same way.
Frequently Asked Questions
Why didn’t the parachute open in time?
The ejection sequence takes about 0.5 to 1.2 seconds to fully deploy the parachute. At altitudes below 100 feet, there’s simply not enough time — especially during a rapid descent like the one in the Tejas crash. Experts say Shyal ejected at roughly 80 feet, and the aircraft hit the ground before the parachute could inflate. It’s not a system failure — it’s physics.
Is the Tejas fighter jet unsafe?
No. Since entering service in 2016, the Tejas has completed over 6,500 flight hours with only two fatal incidents — both during aerobatic displays, not combat or testing. Its reliability rate exceeds 90%, comparable to the F-16 and Rafale. This crash was due to altitude and timing, not design flaws. The aircraft’s fly-by-wire system and avionics are widely praised.
What’s being done to prevent future accidents?
The Indian Air Force is reviewing its airshow safety protocols, particularly for low-altitude aerobatics. An internal committee is examining minimum ejection altitudes for demonstration flights. Some pilots are already calling for a 300-foot minimum safety ceiling for such maneuvers — a change that could be implemented within weeks.
How did the international community respond?
The Russian Knights performed a "Missing Man" formation over the airshow grounds. The U.S. F-16 demo team canceled their flight and posted a somber tribute. Even the UAE Air Force observed a moment of silence. These gestures were rare — international teams don’t usually pause for non-national pilots. But Shyal’s sacrifice resonated across borders. He wasn’t just an Indian pilot. He was a pilot, period.
What was Wing Commander Shyal’s role in the Tejas program?
He was one of only six pilots selected to fly the Tejas in international airshows. His role wasn’t just to perform — it was to prove the aircraft’s capabilities to global buyers. He’d flown over 1,200 hours on the Tejas, including combat simulations. He was chosen because he was calm, precise, and trusted. His death is a profound loss to India’s aerospace ambitions.
Where will he be remembered?
His name will be inscribed on the Indian Air Force’s Memorial Wall at Air Force Station Palam. A plaque is planned at his alma mater, Sainik School Sujanpur Tira. His village, Nagrota Bagwan, is raising funds for a small airfield named "Wing Commander Namanesh Shyal Memorial Ground," where children will learn to fly drones — in his honor.
