An old arch with fading Telugu letters marks the entrance to Bollikunta village. Though only a few kilometres from Warangal, Telangana’s second-largest town, Bollikunta retains its rustic charm, with its lush fields, ponds and old houses inspired by traditional aesthetics. Driving a little further along the village road leads to a modest house with a narrow door frame. A huge tree shelters Donthi Rami Reddy from the harsh Deccan sun as he steps out to welcome guests.
The 91-year-old is sharp and alert, although he relies on a walking stick to move about. He served 26 years as the sarpanch of the village, which has a population of 6,000. He sits down carefully on a plastic chair before starting the conversation. It has been more than seven decades since that day, but Rami Reddy is transported back to his teens as he speaks of it. “What happened in the sky that day was unbelievable,” he says. He carries in his heart an important slice of history that never made it into the popular narratives of ‘Operation Polo’―the mission that integrated the state of Hyderabad into the Republic of India in 1948.
Rami Reddy’s agricultural fields bordered an airport built by the last Nizam of Hyderabad, Mir Osman Ali Khan. It was located at Mamnoor, a village neighbouring Bollikunta. Similar airfields were constructed by the Nizam in Hyderabad, Adilabad (in Telangana), Bidar (Karnataka) and Aurangabad (Maharashtra) in the 1930s. The Mamnoor airport, in particular, facilitated access to Nizam’s industries and paper mills in northern Telangana.
Rami Reddy still remembers the last days of the monarchy. “There was hectic activity at the airport. A massive plane, large enough to accommodate 200 people, made daily rounds transporting people and goods. The villagers were terrified as it made a deafening noise while landing and taking off.” Rami Reddy cannot forget the day when the plane made its final appearance. “As soon as it was airborne, two smaller planes appeared out of nowhere and began chasing it. All three aircraft flew aggressively close to each other, and the entire village feared they would crash.”
For villagers still getting accustomed to planes, witnessing a dogfight was frightening, but what followed next shook them further. “After disappearing from our line of sight, the two smaller planes reappeared moments later. They flew over the airfield, bombed the runway multiple times, and vanished into the sky.” That evening, the panicked and confused villagers flocked to the house of the village patwari and local scholar, Devulapalli Keshav Ranga Rao. He told them that the smaller planes belonged to the Indian government and assured that civilians would not be targeted.
“For the next two or three days, the planes would come and drop bombs on the airfield,” says Rami Reddy. “My cattle had accidentally strayed into the airfield, and I hurriedly brought them back. Just after it was cleared, there was a bombing. It felt as though the pilots thoroughly checked for life before bombing the site. No animals or humans were injured.”
Painful past: The Kakatiya-era Shiva temple near the airport was vandalised by the Razakars | Satyanarayana Gola
Rami Reddy’s words find confirmation in a rare government record. The book, Operation Polo: The Police Action Against Hyderabad 1948, authored by S.N. Prasad and published by the ministry of defence, serves as one of the most authentic accounts of the mission. “Two Tempests bombed Warangal (Mamnoor) airstrip, damaging a small airspace found there,” says the book. It also details the scale of the attack on Hyderabad state across various airfields. A total of 32 sorties were carried out, resulting in the dropping of 14 bombs of 500 pounds each and eight bombs of 20 pounds each. The precautionary stance taken by the Indian authorities during the operation―likely what saved Rami Reddy’s cattle―is also recorded: “Air attacks would be confined to strictly military targets, and it had to be remembered that the Hyderabad people in general were friendly to India, and in fact were a part of the Indian nation,” reads a passage.
According to the book, the Indian government was compelled to act after learning that Australian mercenary and pilot Sidney Cotton was smuggling arms into Hyderabad from Pakistan. Cotton had dropped arms at Mamnoor, and also in Bidar and Hyderabad. Hired by the Nizam to procure and transport arms to defend against the Indian state, Cotton―a colourful character―appears in the annals of both World War I and World War II, undertaking photographic reconnaissance and spy missions across the globe.
During World War II, the Mamnoor airstrip was used by the British army after being handed over by the Nizam as a friendly gesture. Rami Reddy remembers when the airport was taken over by “white men”. “They would arrive in cars. There were very few sightings of planes back then. During that period, the British would come into our village and plunge into the water bodies. As children, we believed they would kidnap us, so we hid behind trees and waited until they left the village.”
Beyond the airport, the village holds yet another chapter from the Nizam’s era waiting to be unearthed. Bollikunta lake, situated behind the airport, is surrounded by fields and a Shiva temple. Locals believe it was built during the Kakatiya period, dating back about 1,000 years.
Rami Reddy | Satyanarayana Gola
The temple features three distinct grilled doorways, each leading to a different avatar of Shiva. While its walls boast unique carvings, what truly sets it apart is an unexplained mystery. Above the temple’s entrance, tiny droplets of water glisten mysteriously, leaving a perpetual dampness. But where does this water come from? “Nobody knows,” says Kodandram Reddy, the temple’s caretaker.
“Many have tried to locate the source of the water but failed. Strangely, the droplets appear more in summer than in the monsoon or winter. During Shivaratri, when the heat is intense, even more drops ooze out. Archaeologists and other experts have not been able to explain how water reaches the structure or why only that particular spot remains damp.”
The temple also bears scars of a painful past, as the Nizam’s notorious paramilitary force, the Razakars, unleashed their reign of terror even here. It was common for villagers to raise the tricolour, which the Razakars would later tear down, warning or assaulting those involved. When tensions peaked, the Razakars stormed the temple and vandalised it. Broken parts of the ancient idols could still be found just outside the temple premises. Until 2009, the temple―bereft of idols―was visited by only a few devotees. Local people later restored it and installed new idols, making it fully functional. The striking feature of the temple premises is the intricate carvings on the boulders, each etched with artistic precision and stunning detail.
Rami Reddy and other older residents recall little activity at the Mamnoor airport immediately after Hyderabad’s integration into India. However, in 1959, a momentous event unfolded when prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru landed here for a high-profile visit. Nehru laid the foundation stone for the first Regional Engineering College (REC) in Warangal town, which remains a legacy of excellence to this day.
One of its most distinguished faculty members, Panduranga Rao, recalls a special connection to the Mamnoor airport. In the 1970s, he was an NCC Air Wing officer, conducting programmes for NCC cadets at the Mamnoor airfields. “During my tenure, we used hand gliders―these were preliminary models supplied by the Indian Air Force. We gave gliding experiences to the students and conducted field drills. Most of the cadets were boys and they were astonished to sit in an aircraft without an engine and view the surroundings of the airport from above.”
Rao’s team also worked to restore the existing hangars, which had witnessed another war up close. In 1962, during the war with China, the IAF parked aerial assets from Delhi and other regions at Mamnoor airport hangars, as it was deep within Indian territory, making it a relatively safe zone. By the 1980s, the runways of Mamnoor fell silent. With air traffic ceasing entirely, the airport faded into obscurity, becoming a defunct relic of its past.
Today, it looks much the same. Along the Khammam-Warangal highway, the airport is identifiable by its long boundary wall with two large gates. The property is under the control of the Airports Authority of India. Inside, dry grass and pale green shrubs dominate the airfields. Faint outlines of helipad circles can still be seen. Some distance away, remnants of a bygone era hide behind overgrown plants and trees.
The airport currently occupies 697 acres, having shrunk to one-third of its original size. Over the years, hundreds of acres were transferred to other government bodies, such as the AP Special Police Battalion at Mamnoor. Now, the Telangana government is keen to convert it into an international airport. As part of its expansion plans, the Telangana government has allocated Rs205 crore to acquire 253 acres of additional land for constructing extended runways, terminal buildings and upgraded air traffic control infrastructure to accommodate large commercial flights. The Central government has included the project under the UDAN scheme. The district collector of Warangal has been tasked with acquiring the necessary land and handing it over to the Airports Authority of India. State revenue officials, in coordination with the roads and buildings department, have already surveyed half of the project site. Political leaders and government officials have begun negotiations with local residents and farmers, persuading them to part with their land for the project. The proposed acquisition will take place in three villages―Gadepally, Gunturpally and Nakkalapally―affecting about 150 farmers and landowners.
Among the three villages, Gunturpally has raised the most concerns. In a way, the village has its own heritage value. It was established 140 years ago by migrants from the Guntur region of Andhra Pradesh who settled in this area due to its soil ideal for chilli cultivation. “I belong to the fourth generation of my migrant family who have been farming these lands,” says Bhaskar Rao, a farmer. He is upset that the villagers are not being offered a fair deal. The farmers are demanding compensation of Rs3 crore per acre or an equal-sized plot of farmland nearby. “An international airport will generate substantial revenue for the government. When we are giving up our ancestral lands, how can they offer us a few lakhs and wash their hands of it? The compensation they are offering would not even buy us a 200-yard plot,” says Rao.
The farmers are frustrated that the land registration value in the village has been kept low compared to neighbouring villages, meaning the government will likely use this figure to calculate compensation. There are also questions about the village’s infrastructure. A lake that supported farmland will be absorbed into the project, leaving farmers uncertain about alternative water sources. A village crematorium lies along the proposed airport route, raising doubts about its future accessibility. “We need clarity on these issues,” says Babu Rao, another resident of Gunturpally.
The Congress government is treating the proposed airport as a flagship project, as its completion would be a success story for the administration. Unlike Andhra Pradesh, which has nearly half a dozen airports, Telangana has only one commercial airport, at Shamshabad on the outskirts of Hyderabad. Politically, the airport project is a high-stakes move. If completed on schedule, it will be a major achievement for the government just in time for the next state elections.
Dr Kadiyam Kavya, MP from Warangal constituency, spoke about restarting the airport in her maiden speech in the Lok Sabha and has since been closely involved with the project. “Hyderabad has seen significant development, and now it’s Warangal’s turn. It has ample resources like water and forests, hosts a tribal festival and boasts a rich heritage. It is also the next big destination for business investments, with its textile park and status as an education hub. We want to develop this airport to international standards because investors’ basic requirement is a good airport. Once it is operational, our government is confident of generating high revenue.” On the issue of land acquisition and farmers’ concerns, she says the administration is working towards a compromise.
As the buzz around the impending airport project gains momentum, real estate prices have soared. What was Rs50–75 lakh per acre has skyrocketed to Rs1.5–2 crore or more per acre. Many are eager to buy and build commercial or residential projects, hoping the airport will spur demand for housing and shops. Villagers also hope it will create jobs. “I am happy about it, but I’m not sure if I will live long enough to see the new airport,” says Rami Reddy. Even as a modern airport takes shape, Rami Reddy’s fields will remain a silent witness to history giving way to the future in the neighbourhood, watching new stories unfold in the sky.