Purnea: In the corridors of Sainik School Tilaiya, two boys from Bihar’s Purnea sat side by side on the same wooden bench in Section C. Roll numbers 1272 and DS 80. They were part of the 1977 batch of 140 boys who had cleared a gruelling entrance exam to study at the premier prep school for future soldiers.
Six years later, in 1983, the same boys faced another test: the National Defence Academy entrance exam. Twenty-eight of them made the cut—1272 was among them, DS 80 wasn’t. Fast-forward to 2025, and roll number 1272, Air Marshal Awadhesh Kumar Bharti, became the architect of Operation Sindoor. DS 80, banker Salil Choudhary, cheered from miles away.
Air Marshal AK Bharti now commands the skies and the battlefield. As Director General Air Operations (DGAO) in the Indian Air Force, he led the four-day military operation carried out between 7 and 10 May. It began with precision strikes on nine terror camps in Pakistan, launched in response to the Pahalgam massacre. When Pakistan retaliated, India struck back, targeting 11 military airfields. On the fourth day, Pakistan put in a hotline call asking for a ceasefire.
On 11 May, when four senior defence officers stood before the nation for a briefing on Operation Sindoor, Bharti stood out with his calm demeanour, clipped answers, and a surprising flash of poetry. He quoted a Ramcharitmanas couplet from memory to signal the shift in India’s approach to Pakistan’s provocations.
It was about Lord Ram losing patience with the Sea God and lifting his bow after being denied passage to Lanka: ‘Vinay na manat jaldhi jad, bhaye teen din beet, bole Ram sakop tab, bhay bin hoi na preet’—The ocean stayed unmoved by humble requests. Three days passed. Then Lord Ram, with rising anger, said, without fear, there can be no love.
Back home in Purnea, across alumni groups and family circles, messages poured in—celebrations of the boy who once sat on that wooden school bench.
“See! Bharti is on TV!” cheered Choudhary, now an AGM at a national bank, recounting the moment when his former benchmate addressed the nation. Choudhary and others who knew Bharti as a student say there were always signs he’d go far.
Bharti wasn’t just academically excellent. He was equally good in physical training. He is strong within—not a kitabi keeda (bookworm), but someone with conviction
-Sahil Choudhary, former classmate
“He was also the Marshal of Vaishali House for the batch of 82-83, which had around 80 to 90 students,” said Choudhary.
Binay Kumar, another Tilaiyan who now heads a B.Ed college in Purnea, said he recorded Bharti’s address on his phone. It was like a personal milestone to him.
“He is a national hero. We always knew he was destined for greatness,” added Kumar.
Across India, Bharti’s name resonated—on TV, social media platforms, and in the homes of those who once studied or served with him.
In a quiet corner of Jhunni Kala village, about 30 minutes from Purnea town, the modest home where Bharti’s journey began seemed to stand a little taller that day. His name drifts through homes and fields, through gatherings under the shade of mango trees, with a deep sense of honour.
“Our hearts are filled with pride,” his father, Jiwachh Lal Yadav, 85, told ThePrint. Beside him, his wife, Urmila Devi, added softly, “He was always sincere.”
When the briefing aired, villagers left their maize fields and rushed home to switch on their televisions.
Now the entire village carries his moment in their mobile phones, watching it again and again.
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Purnea’s son
Bharti’s mother, Urmila, was tending to the family’s maize fields when the national briefing began. A neighbour ran out to fetch her and brought her home to watch it on TV.
Raising four children wasn’t easy for her and her husband, Jiwachh Lal Yadav, who worked in the finance department of the Kosi Irrigation Projects. But they soon realised they wanted more for their children than their ancestral village could offer, and shifted to the town, 10 kilometres away.
“Town was the place where opportunities felt within reach. And we juggled between raising them and tending to the fields also,” his mother Urmila Devi said.
But as their eldest Awadhesh grew up, even that was not enough. Seeing his abilities, his parents sent him to Adarsh Madhya Vidyalaya in Parora village, 11 km west of Purnea town. Back then, Parora was the only government school in the area with residential facilities for students from surrounding villages.
“We sent him to a residential school because he was always a studious child,” recalled Urmila Devi. She had studied only until the 7th standard, while her husband, Jiwachh, had completed his education up to the 12th.
“But we both understood the value of education,” said Urmila.
Established in 1926, the middle school in Parora was the vision of Rajender Prasad, a local zamindar who donated his land for education. It was where local parents saw the best shot for their children to make it into the armed forces or government jobs.
“The principal and teachers worked tirelessly, shaping students to excel in either Netarhat School, Sainik School Tilaiya, or the Indian eligibility exams back then,” recalled Choudhary, whose father once taught mathematics at Sainik School in Tilaiya.
[Air Marshal Bharti] comes once a year. He roams around and speaks to everyone, without an air of importance
-Vishwanath Yadav, 70
From the 1977 batch, 21 students—including Bharti—qualified for Sainik School admission.
The school still bears its brick-coloured boards, weathered by time and rain, displaying the names of students who triumphed in the prestigious exams over the years.
Fields to frontiers
Back in Jhunni Kalan, the silence stood in contrast to the national celebration of Bharti’s success. The villagers, including the Air Marshal’s parents, were busy with maize harvesting. Most people here are used to hardship, and few have broken free from the cycle of poverty.
But the Bharti siblings did. One brother, Mithilesh, works for a pharmaceutical company. Another, Rajesh, is a doctor. None of them have forgotten their roots, according to relatives.
“[Air Marshal Bharti] comes once a year. He roams around and speaks to everyone, without an air of importance,” said Vishwanath Yadav, 70, a neighbour and distant relative who has watched Bharti remain grounded despite his towering achievements.
Four years after joining NDA, Bharti was awarded the Sword of Honour, the highest distinction given to cadets. Commissioned into the Air Force in 1987, he is a fighter combat leader who commanded a Sukhoi-30 MKI squadron from August 2005 to September 2007. His key positions include service in the Strategic Force Command in Malaysia and as SASO at the Central Air Command in Prayagraj.
Bharti was also awarded the Vayu Sena Medal and Ati Vishisht Seva Medal for his distinguished service before his appointment as DGAO last October.
The beginnings of his stellar career, though, started even before he was born.
The India-China War of 1962 had an unexpected ripple effect in Purnea’s villages. It ended up giving a new aspiration and direction to the boys who grew up in the poor tolas.
On the outskirts of Purnea, amid sprawling fields, the Chunapur Airbase began coming up in 1963, built to fortify India’s defence presence in the Northeast Corridor.
That same year, Sainik School Tilaiya was born out of necessity—an answer to the urgent call for a stronger and more prepared officer cadre in the Indian Armed Forces. The school was the brainchild of Union Defence Minister VK Krishna Menon and Bihar Chief Minister, KB Sahay, at a time when Bihar and Jharkhand were still one state.
“In no time, Sainik School and Netarhat became the only schools where parents—rich or poor—wanted to send their sons,” recalled Salil Choudhary.
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‘Calm, composed, never indulged in loose talk’
In the late ’70s, Bharti and Choudhary would board the state bus from Purnea to Tilaiya under the night sky. The ride took twelve hours. At dawn, they’d get off at Urma Mode in Koderma district, which served as the drop-off point for Tilaiya boys. From there, they walked seven kilometres to reach the school.
Back then, opportunities like Sainik School were rare. The school was more than an institution—it was a crucible, forging young boys into men of discipline.
The days were rigorous. Mornings began with 40 minutes of physical training. Evenings stretched into two hours of sports.
“Bharti wasn’t just academically excellent. He was equally good in physical training,” Choudhary said. “He is strong within—not a kitabi keeda (bookworm), but someone with conviction.”
The boys often got confused between Bharti and another classmate Anand Bardhan because of their resemblance, frequently causing mix-ups. Teachers and classmates would call out ‘Bharti’, only to find Bardhan responding, or vice versa. Bardhan went on to become an IAS officer and currently serves as Chief Secretary of Uttarakhand.
“Back then, our batch was large. We had the highest selection into NDA. I don’t know if the following batches broke that record—but ours will always stand out,” said Choudhary.
The last time he met Bharti was in 2022.
“He was calm, composed, and never indulged in loose talk,” he recalled.
Security restrictions prevent everyday conversations between Tilaiyans and Bharti. But each time he flies into Purnea, around 25 Tilaiyans—now settled in town, mostly in their late 50s—gather as they did in their school days, reliving their good old days.
“Once a Tilaiyan, always a Tilaiyan,” said Binay Kumar, his voice tinged with pride.
(Edited by Asavari Singh)