Fire in the Skies: The Crash of Alliance Air Flight 7412

How a Routine Domestic Flight Turned Into One of India’s Deadliest Urban Aviation Disasters

A Morning Like Any Other

On the morning of July 17, 2000, the departure hall at Kolkata’s Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose International Airport hummed with the subdued energy of a new day. Businessmen scanned newspapers, families corralled restless children, and four young flight attendants chatted quietly as they prepared for another routine domestic service.

At Gate 5, Alliance Air Flight 7412, a Boeing 737-200, was preparing for its short hop to Delhi with two scheduled stops—first at Patna, then Lucknow. To the 52 passengers, it was to be an unremarkable 40-minute journey on the first leg.

But by 7:34 a.m., the aircraft would be reduced to flaming wreckage in the heart of a crowded Patna neighborhood. Sixty lives were lost, homes destroyed, and the fragility of India’s aviation infrastructure was laid bare.

The Crew and the Machine

Flight 7412 was flown by a seasoned cockpit team:

Captain Mangjit Singh Sohanpal, 35, with 4,300 flight hours—just under half on the Boeing 737.

First Officer Arvind Singh Bagga, 31, a pilot with more than 4,000 hours, nearly 3,600 of them on the same aircraft type.

Although officially designated a captain-in-training, Bagga occupied the left seat as pilot flying. Sohanpal, the senior pilot, handled radio communication and oversight.

The aircraft itself was a 20-year-old Boeing 737-200—once the workhorse of short-haul aviation worldwide. Registered as VT-EGD, it had accumulated over 44,000 flight hours and 51,000 cycles. By 2000, India had already signaled plans to retire older jets, but on that July morning, VT-EGD was cleared as airworthy, its maintenance records up to date.

Onboard were 52 passengers and six crew members. Most were Indian nationals, but among them was a family of four from Scotland on holiday.

A Clear Flight Path—On Paper

Flight 7412 departed Kolkata at 6:51 a.m. The weather was ideal: calm winds, high clouds, and visibility of four kilometers—hazier than perfect, but no obstacle for modern aviation.

The route was straightforward: follow the W52 airway, begin descent at Sarak waypoint, and perform a DME arc approach into Patna’s Runway 25.

Yet Patna’s airport had long been regarded as one of India’s most challenging. Surrounded on all sides by densely packed neighborhoods, it offered a short runway, limited visual aids, and virtually no room for error. Large jets like the 737 could land safely, but the margin was razor thin.

A High and Fast Approach

By 7:26 a.m., Alliance Air 7412 reported passing 25 nautical miles out and began its descent. Two minutes later, the 737 entered the DME arc.

From the control tower, Patna ATC saw something troubling: the aircraft was too high for its position. Flight recorders later confirmed that instead of a sharp descent, the crew kept engines at idle thrust with only a gradual nose-down attitude.

At 7:31 a.m., they crossed radial 080, aligning with the localizer for Runway 25. But altitude was still a thousand feet too high. ATC cleared them to 1,700 feet, but the descent profile was already compromised.

Realizing the difficulty, Captain Sohanpal radioed a request:

“Patna, Alliance 7412. We’d like to make a 360 turn. We’re high on the approach.”

The tower responded: “Affirmative, confirm you have the airfield in sight.”

Sohanpal replied, “Affirmative.”

It was 7:32 a.m. That would be their last transmission.

A Stall in the Sky

As the Boeing entered its turn, the cockpit voice recorder (CVR) captured rising alarm. Bagga, at the controls, was struggling to manage speed.

“Look at the speed. Bring it up,” a crew member urged.

Then came the unmistakable stick shaker—the vibrating control column that warns of an imminent stall.

Instead of lowering the nose and applying full thrust—the textbook recovery—Bagga extended more flaps and attempted to climb. The engines remained at idle.

The aircraft bucked violently, banking sharply left and right. From the tower, horrified controllers watched the plane roll and drop, veering far from the runway alignment.

The Impact

At 7:34 a.m., just two minutes after the last radio call, Flight 7412 disappeared behind trees on the edge of Patna’s Gardani Bagh neighborhood.

Seconds later, residents heard the roar of engines sputter, followed by a deafening crash. The 737 slammed into two homes, skidded into a third, and exploded into flames.

Thick black smoke rose into the sky, visible across the city.

Inside the wreckage, only seven people initially survived—all seated near the rear. Among them was a teenage boy who staggered out, dazed but alive. Four of the seven later succumbed to injuries in hospital.

On the ground, five residents were killed instantly, their homes obliterated in seconds. Five more were injured, some burned as jet fuel ignited the debris.

Chaos on the Ground

Patna’s emergency services were quickly notified, but the geography of the city turned disaster into nightmare.

Narrow streets blocked fire trucks. Traffic congestion delayed ambulances. By the time the first responders reached Gardani Bagh—nearly 20 minutes later—the fire was an inferno, fed by more than two tons of aviation fuel.

Crowds of residents swarmed the site, some climbing on emergency vehicles for a view. Police had to call in reinforcements, even soldiers, to hold back the crush of onlookers.

Despite the obstacles, firefighters and medics pulled survivors from the tail section. The injured were rushed to hospitals, but the majority of those on board had died instantly.

The Investigation

That same afternoon, India’s Directorate General of Civil Aviation (DGCA) launched an inquiry. Days later, the Ministry of Civil Aviation appointed a high-level commission led by Air Marshal P. Rajkumar. Investigators from Boeing, the FAA, and the U.S. National Transportation Safety Board joined in.

The black boxes were badly damaged but recoverable. Analysis of the flight data recorder (FDR) and CVR confirmed a grim sequence:

The aircraft remained too high during the approach.

Engines stayed at idle thrust for several minutes.

Flap settings oscillated between 1, 5, and 15 degrees as the pilots attempted to “drag” the aircraft down.

Speed bled away, triggering the stick shaker stall warning.

Instead of stall recovery—full power, nose down, wings level—the pilots attempted a go-around with extended flaps, sealing their fate.

Investigators found no mechanical failures. The Pratt & Whitney engines were functional. Flaps and slats operated normally. The ground proximity warning system was working but did not trigger in time.

The verdict was stark: human error.

The crew’s mismanagement of speed and altitude, coupled with incorrect stall recovery, caused the crash.

An Airport Under Scrutiny

But the inquiry did not stop at the crew.

Patna Airport itself came under harsh criticism. Runway 25, investigators noted, was short and hemmed in by urban sprawl. The instrument landing system only functioned down to 300 feet, limiting precision. In an emergency, large aircraft like the Boeing 737 had little room to maneuver.

“Patna was never designed for modern jets of this size,” one aviation analyst later remarked. “It was a disaster waiting to happen.”

Public Outrage and Policy Change

As funerals were held across India, public anger mounted. Media outlets accused Alliance Air of cutting costs, flying aging aircraft, and failing to properly train its crews.

Though the official report cleared the aircraft of fault, the age debate would not go away. Within months, the government accelerated its plan to retire all aircraft over 20 years old. By 2005, Alliance Air’s 737-200 fleet was grounded.

The crash also spurred investment in airport modernization. Patna’s runway was lengthened slightly, new navigational aids installed, and proposals floated for a new airport outside the congested city limits.

Survivors and Legacy

For the few survivors, the scars were deep. The Scottish family lost both parents, leaving two children to be flown home under the care of relatives. The teenage survivor who walked away carried lifelong trauma.

On the ground, the residents of Gardani Bagh rebuilt their homes, but the memory of that morning—flames consuming their neighborhood, screams from the wreckage—never faded.

Lessons in Aviation Safety

In the years since, Alliance Air Flight 7412 has become a case study in aviation training. Airlines across India revised stall-recovery procedures, reinforcing the basics:

Respect approach profiles.

Monitor energy management.

In a stall, lower the nose, add thrust, level the wings.

It also underscored the risks of operating large aircraft into marginal airports with inadequate infrastructure.

A Date Etched in Memory

On July 17, 2000, the residents of Patna awoke to an ordinary morning. By 7:34 a.m., their city had become the site of India’s deadliest urban air crash.

Sixty lives were lost, dozens more scarred forever. For India’s aviation sector, it was a brutal reminder that procedures, training, and infrastructure must advance together—or lives will be the price.

Today, at Gardani Bagh, life has returned. Children play in narrow alleys, shops hum with business, and rebuilt houses line the street. Yet for those who were there, the sound of that descending jet and the fireball that followed remains vivid—a haunting echo of a tragedy that reshaped Indian aviation.