"The Day Air Travel Stopped Being Ordinary For Me"

As an Indian international student, I've taken numerous flights, frequently with Air India, between my home country and my second home abroad. I hoped for the best on every journey, but instead I received disappointment. Every flight felt like a reminder that we, as passengers, deserved better because of the delays, haphazard service, and broken promises. Like any other regular traveler, I would vent to loved ones, gripe over coffee, and dismiss it as "normal Air India." We always think minor annoyances remain minor.

Then came the Ahmedabad Air India disaster in 2025.

The shock I experienced upon hearing the news is beyond my comprehension. Those small complaints, which I dismissed, suddenly felt more pressing, as if they were unheard warning signs that accumulated into an unimaginable catastrophe. Videos of the wreckage, including burned bodies, smouldering debris, and twisted metal, were widely shared online. The once-vibrant faces are now unrecognisable. I've only ever seen such scenes in fictional films, complete with dramatic music and computer-generated fireballs. But this? This did indeed occur. No music. No special effects. Tragic, pure tragedy.

What torments me most are the memories of those last minutes. What were the passengers—children, families, and students—thinking? Did they think for a moment that they would escape unscathed? Did they, like me, ignore poor service at one point, not realising it could turn into something unthinkable?

Every regular passenger on that flight had a story to tell. Any other day, we could have passed them in an airport lounge, or we could have sat next to them silently. The noise of packed terminals would have erased their lives and stories. But death also has the terrible ability to turn the ordinary into the spectacular. We suddenly realise the worth, frailty, and weight of every life when we experience loss.

I can't stop thinking: what if we were more vocal? What if travellers like me made public demands for improvement rather than merely venting in private? Would anything have been different? Would those travellers have reached their destination without incident? Perhaps. Perhaps not. However, the regret is still there. The tragedy not only shook the country, but it also rocked me, reminding me that keeping quiet about even the "little things" can have more consequences than we may think.

Your stories are important, those we lost. I wish we had listened earlier, but we are listening now.