Skip to main content

Tomorrow, My Morning Coffee Will Taste Different

It’s been three weeks since we moved to Vadodara. Every morning since, I’ve unknowingly built a quiet ritual—coffee in hand, eyes on the sky, watching planes take off from Vadodara Airport, which I can see clearly from our balcony. There's something calming about it. Hopeful, even. A small moment of stillness as the world begins to move.

But today… today was not like the other days.

Around noon, news broke about the Air India crash at Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel Airport, Ahmedabad. And everything I felt in those quiet, breezy mornings shattered into something heavier, more fragile. It’s strange how suddenly a routine can take on new meaning and how quickly something comforting can start to feel ominous.

My husband used to be a frequent flyer to Ahmedabad in the months before we settled down here. I was right there at that same airport with my dad and daughter, barely three weeks ago. I still remember my first visit to Ahmedabad and I wasn’t particularly excited. It felt temporary. But the second time, I arrived with dreams. With hope. With plans to call this place home.

And now, hearing about the crash, I can’t stop thinking—what if?

It’s terrifying how close tragedy can come to our stories without touching them. But it leaves fingerprints anyway. On our thoughts, on our routines, on our mornings.

Tomorrow, when I stand on my balcony with my coffee, I know it won’t be the same. I’ll still see the runway. I’ll still see planes take off. But I’ll also see the people behind those flights—their journeys, their families, their fragile trust in the sky.

The tragedy today wasn’t just about a plane. It was about dreams cut short, plans never lived, homes left waiting.

My heart goes out to the families. And as the engines roar tomorrow morning, I’ll hold my breath a little longer. I’ll sip my coffee a little slower. And I’ll be grateful for every ordinary day that still lets me watch the sky.

Labels:
Location: Vadodara, Gujarat, India

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Journaling: A Habit That Became a Lifeline

Journaling has been an inseparable part of my life for over 20 years—almost as natural as brushing my teeth or taking a bath. It’s more than just a habit; it has become an obsession. Every day, I capture my thoughts, emotions, and moments, pouring them into the pages of my diary like an old friend who never judges. Growing up, I was an average student, often overlooked in school and college. My parents weren’t the most supportive, and humiliation became a constant companion, especially in front of family, friends, and neighbours. But amidst all of this, my diary remained my refuge, my safe space, and my most loyal friend. During my school and college days, my diary listened when no one else would. It never ridiculed or belittled me. It saw my laughter, my tears, my struggles—it even stopped me from making drastic decisions at times. If not for my diary, I don't know how I would have survived those years. Reliving the Past Through Old Journals Back then, my diary held stories of joy...
Post a Comment
Read more

June 15: The Day I Buried My Mother and Met My Daughter

Eleven years ago, on this very day, our family grieved all over again. My mother passed away on May 8, 2015. While the initial rituals were completed within a few days, one final responsibility remained. Since she had been cremated, we decided to take her ashes to our ancestral graveyard, where my great-grandparents and grandparents were buried. On June 15, 2015, we laid her ashes to rest. Along with them went her favorite sarees, her notebook, the pen she always carried, and several belongings that had been a part of her daily life. As we buried those ashes, it felt as though we were saying goodbye to her all over again. Her ashes were the last tangible reminder we had of her, and letting go was not easy. Six years later, in 2021, I was pregnant with my daughter. My due date was June 7, 2021, but God had a different plan. Days passed, and there were no signs of labor. We waited and waited. By June 13, I had crossed 40 weeks, and labor was induced without much success. On the night of ...
Post a Comment
Read more