India is gearing up to revolutionise regional connectivity and tourism with an ambitious seaplane initiative under the RCS-UDAN scheme. The Ministry of Civil Aviation is developing 10 state-of-the-art water aerodromes at an estimated cost of INR 330 crores, paving the way for a new era of aquatic aviation.
A seaplane service was launched in 2020, connecting Ahmedabad's Sabarmati Riverfront to the Statue of Unity in Kevadia. However, the service was soon discontinued. SpiceJet plans to launch seaplane services on multiple routes in 2025. Kerala is also constructing several water aerodromes to boost tourism, and its inaugural test flight was recently conducted successfully.
But seaplanes are far from a modern novelty in India. Their legacy stretches back to 1938, when the first trans-India seaplane flight sliced through the skies.
Rewind to the 1920s: Imperial Airways was already weaving an intricate web of airmail and passenger routes across the British Empire. However, the journey from Britain to Karachi was a convoluted seven-day odyssey—a dizzying mix of planes and trains: a plane from Croydon to Basel, a train to Genoa, then a plane to Alexandria, another train to Cairo, and finally a plane to Karachi.
To streamline mail and passenger services within the Empire, the British government launched the Empire Air Mail Scheme in 1934, estimating that four to five weekly flights to India were required. However, maintaining land aerodromes throughout the year was cost-prohibitive given the vast Empire's diverse climates and topography. The solution? Flying boats.
Enter the majestic "Short S.23C Class" seaplanes, each christened with names beginning with "C." Manufactured by Short Brothers of Rochester, these flying boats epitomised the luxury and scale of imperial ambition. On the inaugural trip to India, the flying boat was called Coogee, registered as G-AEUG, which later flew under Qantas as VH-ABC.
On February 17, 1938, Captain Alger guided Coogee on a historic voyage across uncharted skies to explore an alternate route across India. The flight touched down on forgotten lakes that rarely feature in aviation lore. This wasn't just a flight but an expedition filled with wonder, adventure, and awe.
Step aboard and find luxuries fit for royalty: plush leather recliners, stowable dining tables, smoking rooms, gourmet meals, and even open decks for sky-high sundowners. The journey was as much about the spectacle as it was about speed. The flying experience was chronicled in passenger diaries and published in the Imperial Airways Gazette.
The journey began in Southampton, where the gleaming behemoths of the sky lifted off into the dawn, bound for the far corners of the Empire. First stop: Marseille, where the Mediterranean shimmered beneath their hulls. By the second day, the flying boat alighted on Lake Bracciano near Rome—a volcanic lake reflecting the Italian sun.
Day three included a sun-drenched arc over Brindisi, Athens, and then onto Lake Mirabella in Crete. After braving 400 miles of open sea, the boat reached Alexandria by dusk. The fourth day brought a descent over the Nile Delta and a landing on the Sea of Galilee. After restocking, it crossed the desert guided by an oil pipeline glinting below, before stopping at Lake Habbaniyeh, 90 km west of Baghdad.
Next came Basra, then a pre-dawn take-off over the Persian Gulf. Before arriving in Karachi, the flying boat skimmed above pearl divers' dhows and touched glimpses of Bahrain, Dubai, Gwadar, and Baluchistan.
But from here, the flying boat embarked on a unique route to Calcutta, embracing India's hidden waterways and historic lakes.
The aircraft soared over the Thar Desert, then descended onto Rajsamand Lake near Udaipur. Constructed in the 17th century by Maharana Raj Singh, this lake was equipped for the aviation age: meteorological stations, fuel depots, a royal bungalow, and even a dedicated postmark—"Kankroli Air."
Next stop: Gwalior. The aircraft traced the silhouette of the city's mighty fort. A beacon high on the ramparts signalled "G" for guidance. The Madhosagar Lake, 11 miles southwest of Lashkar, bustled with activity: Burmah Shell fuellers, wireless operators, and chai-serving attendants. Mail from here was postmarked "Gwalior R.S. Air."
Then came Allahabad, where the Ganga and Yamuna meet. After lunch beside the sacred confluence, the flying boat lifted once again, soaring above Bengal's green paddies before alighting on the Hooghly River in Calcutta. Passengers were whisked away to the Great Eastern Hotel. The next day, they would travel to Singapore via Rangoon, Bangkok, and Penang.
Each night was spent in grand luxury: Rome's Hotel de Russie, Alexandria's Cecil, Calcutta's Great Eastern, and Singapore's Raffles. Lavish luncheons, fine wines, and five-star service awaited at every landing.
India's current push to revive seaplane services brings a blend of nostalgia and practical promise. The regional connectivity scheme (RCS-UDAN) aims to bridge remote locations and tourist hotspots via aquatic runways, reducing travel times and unlocking new visitor economies. The government's investment in water aerodromes is a strategic move to ease infrastructure strain on land airports and provide an immersive travel experience.
But beyond the economics lies a deeper question: will these new ventures recapture their predecessors' romance, elegance, and ambition? The original seaplane journeys were more than flights—they were curated odysseys designed to awe, entertain, and unite far-flung corners of an empire. Passengers stepped into a world of refined travel, where the destination mattered as much as the voyage.
Today's seaplane revival could potentially bridge India's islands, riverside cities, and mountainous regions with style and speed. Yet to match the glory of those golden days, modern operators must look beyond logistics and embrace storytelling, experience, and imagination. Seaplanes must once again become symbols of connection, curiosity, and wonder.
As new routes take shape, and the hum of propellers returns to India's lakes and backwaters, one can hope that the flying boat's soul—its spirit of grand travel and exploration—is reborn.
Only time will tell whether the ripples of this revival will carry India into a new age of aviation or remain a fleeting echo of its glorious past.
(Dev Mehta is an INSOL Fellow, holds an MBA from Rotterdam School of Management and is a Chartered Accountant by profession.)
Q1. What is the seaplane initiative under the UDAN scheme?
The UDAN scheme aims to enhance regional connectivity through affordable air travel. Under this, India is developing 10 water aerodromes to enable seaplane operations.
Q2. Where will the new seaplane routes operate?
Proposed routes include water bodies across Gujarat, Kerala, and northeastern India. The earlier trial connected Ahmedabad to the Statue of Unity in Kevadia.
Q3. Why did India's previous seaplane service shut down?
The Ahmedabad–Kevadia route faced logistical and operational issues including weather challenges, leading to a temporary suspension of service.
Q4. What is the history of seaplanes in India?
India first saw seaplanes in the 1930s with British flying boats under the Empire Air Mail Scheme, connecting Karachi, Udaipur, Gwalior, and Calcutta.
Q5. Can modern seaplanes match the luxury of 1930s flying boats?
While modern seaplanes promise convenience and regional access, recreating the elegance of the 1930s flying boats would require a focus on experience and design.
