A great deal has been spoken and written about the courage and skill of Denzil as a fighter pilot, and a great deal more will come after his passing away — he has been honoured by the nation and by his service conferring on him a plethora of awards, including the Kirti and Vir Chakras.
I therefore do not intend to attempt to add to this. My narration is confined to what I observed in him as a human being: One who was truly remarkable.
To return back to the early 1980s.
As Commissioner Gwalior, my office was a well-appointed room in Moti Mahal, the palace of the Scindias, to which was adjoined a magnificent meeting hall that looked like something out of Versailles. One day, an office clerk brought a visitor’s slip on which was written, very clearly and simply, “Denzil Keelor,” mentioning neither rank nor organization, for he really was in need of neither.
I stood up to receive the great man.
He was a trim figure, slightly built, but clearly very agile, his face resembling Sir Humphrey Appleby of “Yes Minister” fame.
Denzil was in charge of the IAF Station at Maharajpur, Gwalior, which was the base for the induction of the Mirage aircraft. As this involved re-settlement of certain villages, Denzil felt a discussion with me, as Commissioner, would be useful.
At Gwalior, while setting up the Mirage base, which involved re-settlement of villages, Denzil ensured, by constant pursuit with the revenue and defence authorities, that what the villagers got by way of compensation, far exceeded what they were forced to surrender. He also developed a personal rapport with many villagers, something that he retained years after he had left Gwalior.
Anyone from Maharajpur villager could freely approach Denzil, later a well-known and highly respected Air Marshal in New Delhi, which many did, especially for admissions of their children to the Air Force Bal Bharti schools, or for medical attention. Few, if any, returned disappointed. The villagers in turn did not forget him and I am informed that there is in Gwalior a “Keelor Nagar” named after him.
Then again, in the early 90s, when I took over as managing director of Indian Airlines, it was Denzil serving as Advisor, at the office of the Director General Civil Aviation (DGCA), who, on hearing of my induction, flew around the country speaking favourably of me, to practically all the leaders of the pilot community, all of who revered him for his courage, skill and reputation as a flier.
It was all done silently and was clearly an invaluable contribution to my survival in the Airlines. However, never once did he make a mention of it to me; I only came to learn of it, much later, from some
of the pilots of the Airline. Not satisfied by the legendary fame he possessed, Denzil, after retirement, continued to strive, contributing significantly to two institutions which he headed, for many years—the YMCA and the Special Olympics Bharat.
The Sports Complex of the YMCA at Greater NOIDA, one of his creations, is one of the finest of its kind in the National Capital Region.
Heading the Special Olympics Bharat, set up for the differently-abled, he propelled it into being one of the best institutions of its kind in the world.
However, name and fame, did not save Denzil from the many tragedies he had to face — losing a celebrated brother and his grown son, and both he and his wife being afflicted with Cancer. To these he brought the stoical courage, for which he was famed.
His spirit and compassion continued and, at the age of 89, he headed the Frank Anthony Schools, which witnessed a remarkable financial turnaround, under him.
Like so many, I approached Denzil, often, with requests, the response to which was invariably been positive and immediate.
Denzil is a legend in his time, but more importantly he is a superb human being—a “good Christian” to the core. One of my life’s greatest privileges is knowing him.
