Ahmedabad tragedy is not just a news headline—it is a collective moment of grief, reflection, and resilience
Mrinal Chatterjee
Ahmedabad Air Crash
The tragic air crash in Ahmedabad on 13 June that claimed nearly 300 lives including passengers, crew members and medical students having midday meals in their hostel over which the plane crashed- is a heart-wrenching reminder of the fragility of human existence. In a split second, lives full of dreams, plans, and relationships were lost to the unforgiving forces of fate. Such incidents shake us to the core—not only because of the scale of loss, but because they confront us with the stark truth that life is profoundly uncertain. No amount of planning, routine, or control can guarantee what the next moment holds. Death looms round every corner, silent and unpredictable.
And yet, amidst the sorrow, there emerges something equally powerful—hope. It is hope that allows survivors to rebuild, families to mourn and move forward, and societies to strengthen safety protocols and continue the journey of life. It is hope that keeps us boarding planes, loving people, chasing dreams, despite the lurking possibility of loss.
The Ahmedabad tragedy is not just a news headline—it is a collective moment of grief, reflection, and resilience. It urges us to value each day, cherish our loved ones, and find meaning in the everyday. It also demands that we work harder towards safer systems, more accountable institutions, and compassionate responses in the face of disaster.
In the end, hope sustains humankind. Even in our darkest hours, it lights a small candle in the heart, reminding us that life, though fragile, is still worth living with courage, kindness, and purpose.
(Tribute caricature by Raghupathi Shringeri)
155 years sans Dickens
At just 12 years old, his childhood was stolen.
His father was thrown into debtor’s prison. And young Charles Dickens was sent to work in a grim shoe polish factory by the Thames.
His job? Gluing labels on pots of blacking for hours and hours. The factory was bleak. The work was exhausting. The pay barely enough to survive.
For a bright, imaginative child, it was soul-crushing.
He felt abandoned. Invisible. And that pain would stay with him forever.
But from that pain, something remarkable was born. It planted the seeds of deep empathy for the poor, the forgotten, the voiceless.
It lit a fire of ambition that never stopped burning.
And it became the beating heart of some of the greatest novels ever written: Oliver Twist, David Copperfield, Little Dorrit all carrying echoes of that dark, broken boy in the factory.
Eventually, his father was released. Charles returned to school. But the scars remained. And in many ways, they fuelled his brilliance. He turned trauma into timeless stories, suffering into social change and silence into a voice that still speaks to millions.
Charles Dickens rose and gave the world literature that still stirs the soul.
He died on 9 June 1870.
Why do Japanese Stay Silent on Public Transport?
My friend Snehasis Sur, who recently had been to Japan told me about the Japanese tradition of keeping quiet on public transport. Japanese trains and buses are eerily quiet even when they’re packed? No loud conversations, no phone calls, no music blasting—just silence.
This isn’t just about manners—it’s deeply tied to Japanese values of respect, harmony and personal space. In Japan, speaking loudly in public—especially on transportation—is seen as disruptive and inconsiderate. People believe in not disturbing others’ peace, especially in confined, shared spaces.
Many commuters use this time to rest, read, or simply relax. That’s why one will often see people sleeping on trains—it’s not laziness, it’s part of the daily rhythm and trust in society.
Phones are kept on silent mode (even called manner mode), and most people avoid even voice calls unless absolutely necessary.
This quiet culture might feel unusual at first, but it’s something many people around the world appreciate once they experience it—especially in noisy cities.
When will we Indians learn to keep quiet in public places, even in religious sanctoriums?
Yoga Day
Yesterday 21 June was Yoga Day. A yoga camp was held near my locality. The organisers told me to come early in the morning to take part in the Yoga session. I went there wearing a T-Shirt with a writing”I am here just for the Savashana.” The organisers told me to do that at home. So I came back and slept again.
(The author is Regional Director Indian Institute of Mass Communication, IIMC Dhenkanal. Views expressed are personal.)
