Saved by Minutes: Bhoomi’s Missed Flight Becomes a Miracle of Survival
I still can’t fully wrap my head around it—how a few minutes changed the course of my life. On June 12th, I was supposed to be on Air India flight AI171, headed from Ahmedabad to London Gatwick. As a student of Business Administration living in Bristol, I had been visiting India for a short vacation. But what happened that day was nothing short of fate intervening.
I was traveling from Ankleshwar to Ahmedabad, about 200 kilometers away, with every intention of catching my scheduled flight. But Ahmedabad’s choking city traffic had other plans. Every red light, every congested street became part of a sequence that kept me from arriving on time. When we finally reached the airport, it was already 12:20 PM—just ten minutes after boarding had begun.
I remember the frustration, the rising panic. I ran to the counter, hoping they would still let me board. After all, I had checked in online. My seat—36G—was already assigned. But the staff was firm: boarding had closed. They wouldn't let me through.
Anger gave way to disappointment. My husband and I walked away from the terminal in silence, stopping for tea nearby to discuss how we might claim a refund. Then came the call—a chilling message that the flight had gone down. Flight AI171 had crashed just 30 seconds after takeoff, right into a residential area near the BJ Medical College in Ahmedabad. It killed 241 people on board and several on the ground. And just like that, what felt like the worst moment of my day—the missed flight—turned into a miracle of survival.
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I was numb. That could’ve been me. That should have been me. The only thing that separated me from those who tragically lost their lives was a few minutes. I had been furious with the driver, but now I realize—traffic saved me.
In the days since, I’ve watched the news reports: the black box recovered, DNA identification underway, grieving families flying in from across the globe, and heart-wrenching stories of those who never made it back. Among the victims were children, couples, students, and even former Gujarat Chief Minister Vijay Rupani. One British passenger, Vishwas Kumar Ramesh, miraculously survived and recounted his escape through a broken door, his body burnt but alive.
It could have been me. That realization hits hardest in quiet moments.
There’s no joy in being “lucky” in this situation—only a deep, humbling sense of gratitude and sorrow. I didn’t just miss a flight. I missed a tragedy. And while I try to return to my everyday life in Bristol, a part of me will always remember that day, those minutes, and the unimaginable loss that so many families are now carrying.
I’ll never forget it.
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