Mangalore crash

A plane full of people. Reaching their destination. Some for happy, others for sad reasons. Destined to be together. Ill fated.

All that is left now is sadness. Immense sadness. Families have been wiped out, bodies burnt beyond recognition. The very very very few lucky survivors have an even tougher job ahead- the mental trauma, the physical reality of absence of the loved ones, and above all, a realisation, a haunting acknowledgement of the fickleness of life....

Why does it always take a big tragedy to make us look into our own carelessness? Whether it was the treacherous runway, or the pilot's fatigue, we do not know that as yet. But what we do know is the huge void left behind by the deceased passengers...who not only died, but died so violently...only consolation being that in those last minutes before losing it all, families were together, at least some of them.

What would you call it, if not destiny- when some who survived did so completely by chance- a human error, a spur of the moment judgement; some who did not, had needed to reach their homes so urgently that they took the flight, leaving no stone unturned to get a seat on it...

When the time comes, we get pulled to it. Death, the ultimate power, as strong as the life itself.

My heart goes out most to the kids, who lose their parents in such tragedies. All hopes crash, all positive thoughts seem meaningless, and all prayers seem useless. And yet, we know, they know that they have to survive, somehow, even when pain tears their hearts and lives apart.