Families cling to hope after a deadly ethereal India catastrophe

Imtiyaz Ali Sayed refuses to grieve.

Not when the news first broke – that his younger brother, Je,, along with Jave’s wife and two children, died in the devastating Air India crash in Ahmedabad on Thursday afternoon.

Even now, more than 10 hours later, as the clock hits three in the morning and he walks the sterile corridors of the hospital where their bodies lie, refusing to sit, refusing to accept.

Authorities have confirmed that only one of 242 people aboard London’s flight has survived. DNA testing is now being carried out to identify victims.

Mr. Sayed, a Mumbai-based businessman, is one of the dozens of families who expect closing after one of the worst aviation disasters in India.

He says that until he sees his brother’s body – or “whatever remains of him” – with his own eyes, he will continue to look for him.

“You don’t understand. They were my life – if I give up now, I might never be able to recover,” he says.

He then slides through his phone, showing pictures of his niece and his nephew, including some who were only made moments before they got on the flight.

Side remembers how their bigger sister was intended to travel to London with JAVED, but could not receive a ticket. Then he is silent. Outside the night deepens, the sky darkens from slow grades.

Minutes later, he picks up his phone again – this time to show a series of messages he sent to Javed after hearing about the crash.

“Look,” he says, holding the screen. “They are still delivering. It must mean something, right?”

The tragedy unfolded in seconds: the Boeing 787-8 Dreamliner erupted in flames shortly after taking off from Ahmedabad International Airport Sardar Valabhai Patel, collapsing at a medical college in a tightly packed residential neighborhood.

“There was a strong roar, a deafening screaming, and then suddenly the fire, iron and steel began to rain from the sky,” said Mukes, a driver who lives about 15 minutes from the place of the crash.

At least eight people who were killed on the ground, a senior health official in Ahmedabad told the BBC. When the rescuers first arrived, they found fragments of the aircraft broken with such force that it was difficult to say in the pieces except human remains, two members of the disaster forces told the BBC.

After the crash, the abundant smell of the pungent smell over the area as the smoke exploded from the remains late at night.

Authorities say they are working to identify victims, but the scale of destruction made it difficult to task.

A volunteer at a civil hospital told the BBC, provided for anonymity that many bodies are so poorly charred and robbed, physical identification can be impossible.

“It’s like trying to say ashes besides ashes.”

For families, the wait is painful. Many have camp out of the hospital – in cars or on the streets – their alarmed shouts echo through the corridors.

Sameer Shaikh’s wife can’t stop crying. Their son, Irfan, a member of the Air India crew – did not call often, but always sent before take -off and after landing.

So when the airline called this afternoon, the sheikh went wrong. Irfan had to be on his way to London.

“But instead we realized that he had died in a crash.”

Sheikh, who lives in Pune, flew to Ahmedabad with his family to gather his son’s body. Air India employee at the Civil Hospital helped him in the identification process.

“But the police didn’t let us take my son back,” he says. “We were asked to be back in three days after DNA samples from all the victims was completed.”

Devastated, the couple seeks help – and answers.

“What should we do?” he asks, pointing to his wife, sitting in a corner of the street and sobbing. “How can we wait three days when we know it’s our son?”

Sheikhs are not alone in their grief. There is still another tragedy throughout the city – the one of the site itself where the plane descended.

The BJ Medical College Civil Hospital, one of Ahmedabad’s most respected institutions, became zero when the plane crashed into its hostel on Thursday. Victims are reported, but the full fee remains unclear.

Peal Takur walks anxiously looking for no news about her mother Sarla, who worked as a hostel cook. It was in the back of the building – the very place where the plane hit.

Telling the events of the day, D -Thakur says that her family, who works in the hospital, has gone to work around 1:00 pm local time.

“The plan was to serve lunch to the doctors and return home. But when my mother saw students arriving in the porridge hall, she decided to stay back and make Rotis (Flatbreads) for them,” she says.

It was the moment when the plane crashed into the hostel and torn apart across the first floor of the building. In the chaotic minutes that followed, the confusion and grief hung heavy.

“So much black smoke was pouring out of the building. People were running, trying to save their lives. We are looking for our mother from morning, but we have not found any trace of it,” she adds.

Her father, Dralad Takur, says Sarla was not alone – “My brother’s daughter was with her,” he says. Both are missing.

They searched the top floor where the kitchen was, but they found nothing.

“I went there twice, hoping to find something – something. But there was only water and debris,” he says.

The crash not only breaks a building – it shook a normal afternoon in the campus.

“There was a loud noise. All the doors and windows of the classroom began to tremble. Everyone was running out to check what had happened,” said a student, who preferred to remain unnamed.

As the news spread and it began to become more and more clear that many students were injured – probably even killed – panic was broken into the campus. Some began to flee, others, too dizzy with what they were witnesses, froze in place, their sobs mixed with the screams.

“A student was just standing there with tears in the eyes, unable to move, while others were so severely injured that they had to be transferred to the hospital. Many are now being treated for severe wounds, some of them are in the intensive care unit,” the other added.

By the evening, the heavily damaged corridors stood silent. Backpacks and half -eating dishes lay abandoned at tables where the students escaped. The air was still thick of smoke, sirens and the weight of it had just unfolded.

Additional reporting by Kalpesh Kumar Chavda in Ahmedabad