On the runway of Sardar Patel's name,
A Dreamliner rose—but never came.
Heat shimmered, 45 degrees,
The engines groaned beneath the breeze.
Air India’s wings cut through the blue,
With passengers bound for dreams they knew.
But fate gave way to a downward arc,
A sky betrayed—a world gone dark.
No terror alert, no thunderstorm-
Just climate’s hush in a deadly form.
Some say a flap, or engines weak,
But grief needs neither proof nor speak.
Calls unanswered, seats unclaimed,
Children still asking, lovers unnamed.
Now candles burn where lives once soared,
On tarmac scorched by what they bore.
Let this not fade with breaking news,
Let memory hold what time might lose.
A nation mourns, the black box hums,
But hearts remember when silence comes.
-Gautam Jha
