A Curveball from the Skies

Editor's Note

This short piece is relevant to the times and linked to the recent crash of an Air India flight heading for London but crashed immediately after take off at Ahmedabad itself. The article highlights the role of fate and destiny in our lives,especially the serving Fauji fraternity.

Editor MVI

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The other evening, as I sat riveted to news coverage of the horrific Ahmedabad air crash, I was joined by a senior veteran from my Punjab Regiment, Major Sunil Pandurang Kute, who’d dropped by for a courtesy call. Together, we watched the images of survivors: Ramesh Vishwas Kumar, bloodied and dazed, limping to the ambulance, and Bhumi Chauhan, who missed boarding by a mere ten minutes due to traffic. The thin line between life and death felt palpable.

The moment brought back a memory for Major Sunil — his close brush with fate that still gives him goosebumps. He leaned back, voice steady, as he took me to November 19, 1978.

“It was a bone-chilling evening when I reported to the Chandigarh Transit Camp — now the ‘N’ Area,” he began. AN-12 flights to Leh were frequently delayed due to weather. In those days, many officers overstayed, enjoying Chandigarh’s comforts. To curb this trend, the GOC issued a standing order: all officers must board the first flight available; troops would follow if weather allowed.

The Mess Havildar, a burly Sikh with a twinkle in his eye, informed him that the flight was at 9 AM. “After a 60-day leave spent in homely bliss, and a reunion with coursemates over generous Patiala pegs, 9 AM felt brutally early,” Sunil laughed.

He overslept. The next morning, still groggy, he was jolted awake. Outside, the transport was already loading up. He barked at the Havildar for not waking him earlier. The man replied calmly, “‘Sahab ji, nau waje taan flight da take-off hai — tusan samaan vi ta charana hai.’ (‘Sir, the flight departs at 9 — you have to load your luggage too!’)”

Sunil rushed into uniform, tossed his bag onto the jeep, with three other officers already waiting in the jeep, peeved no end. When they arrived at the tarmac, the pilot, unimpressed by the delay, ordered all four officers to be offloaded. “Pack these jokers into the next flight,” he said.

They all protested and requested, but the pilot wouldn’t budge. The first flight took off. Their second flight was eventually cleared once the weather held. But as they landed in Leh, grim news awaited them — the first aircraft had crashed barely two kilometres from the runway.

“I was on the first flight manifest,” Major Sunil said quietly. “News of my ‘death’ had reached my battalion. When I called my CO from the transit camp, he nearly collapsed. The same officers who were scowling at me hours earlier couldn’t stop hugging me.”

Since then, every November 19th, the quartet gathers at Chandigarh to celebrate their “second birthday” — a toast to God’s mysterious ways and the occasional life-saving hangover.

Sometimes, we curse delays. But occasionally, they're God’s way of telling us, Not yet, my child — hit snooze. We often fume when fate changes our course. But sometimes, what feels like a setback is divine redirection. All we need is patience — and a little faith.