When the Sky Fell Quiet and So Did We All.

It was just an ordinary Thursday.

People were rushing to work, sipping chai, replying to texts, crossing things off to-do lists. It felt like any other day until the news broke.

A flight.
An accident.
A tragedy.
An Air India Flight.

At first, I froze. Then the ache crept in not because I knew anyone on board, but because I’ve lived that moment. Maybe you have too.

I’ve packed my bags while my mother wrapped snacks in foil and tucked in handwritten notes.
I’ve waved goodbye at airports, promising to text once I land.
I’ve sat in planes, hopeful and excited, thinking about what’s next: about the weekend plans, organizing events for next month, next year or the next chapter.

That’s what made it feel personal.
Because for many of us, flying is familiar. It’s about dreams, reunions, new beginnings. And then, in one unimaginable moment, everything changed.

But the grief didn’t stay up in the skies.
It came down with force, striking the very ground where others were simply living their day: sharing lunch, walking across hostel mess, working in the quiet rhythm of their routines.

It’s the kind of loss that doesn’t just affect a city or a family: it echoes.
Across homes, across hearts, across borders.
Because grief, like love, doesn’t need passports.

What struck me most was how sudden it all was. How, in one moment, lives that were learning, healing, hoping, dreaming… were gone.

And isn’t that what makes this loss so hard to hold?
That it came for the ordinary. For people mid-sentence, mid-laugh, mid-dream.
For people just like us.

It reminded me again how fragile life is. How wildly precious every small, seemingly mundane moment can be.

I often think: it’s tragedy that calls us back to what we so easily forget.
To love, out loud and deeply.
To speak gently.
To begin the things we keep postponing.
To hug people longer.
To not wait.

So as we sit with the weight of this heartbreak, may we also remember the light that still lives in us and around us.

The way a friend checks in.
The way a stranger holds space in silence.
The way memories bring both tears and warmth.

Let’s live in a way that honors those we’ve lost: in the skies, on the ground, and in the hearts of all who are grieving.

Let’s not delay joy. Let’s not put love on hold.

Because sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is simply be here, fully together.