It’s been months since the Dreamliner went down, and here’s the thing that keeps hitting me—families aren’t just mourning. They’re stuck in this awful limbo, waiting for the smallest things: a wallet, a kid’s teddy bear, a wedding ring. The kind of stuff that shouldn’t matter but does. The NSG did their job fast—scanned everything, no bombs found—but that’s almost the problem. When you’re drowning in grief, bureaucracy moves at the speed of cold tar.
Remember when the news broke? [Insert date], near [location]. [Number] lives gone in an instant. First responders did what they could—secured the site, pulled out bodies, all that grim work. Investigations are still crawling along, but let’s be real: for families, the “why” doesn’t hurt as much as the “what now.” Like how [Name] keeps asking about her husband’s ring. “They took it for scans,” she says. “Now it’s stuck in some filing cabinet while I stare at his empty coffee mug.”
Psychologists have a term for it—”linking objects.” Fancy way of saying a dead person’s watch or scarf becomes the rope you cling to. And when you can’t even get that? One guy I talked to—lost his sister—put it like this: “They gave me her passport photo. Just the photo. Like that’s supposed to be enough.” Meanwhile, volunteers whisper about waterlogged suitcases sitting in some government warehouse, the contents slowly rotting.
Look, I get why security scans are non-negotiable. After 48 hours, the NSG gave the all-clear: no explosives. But here’s the kicker—now every single earring or keychain needs triplicate paperwork. An NSG guy told me off-record: “We have to photograph a child’s melted toy like it’s evidence in a terror case.” That’s the system working perfectly, and failing people completely.
Try proving a half-burned diary belonged to your wife when the flight manifest got singed. Or explain why a toddler’s stuffed elephant—now missing an eye—is yours. No one plans for this. So families bring birth certificates to claim crayon drawings, and still get told to “wait for the committee’s next meeting.” Makes you wonder: if this were politicians’ luggage, how fast would it move?
Remember the Ahmedabad crash in 2020? Belongings were back with families in six weeks. Not because the process was easier—because someone decided it mattered. Meanwhile, this time? Different airport, different rules. One volunteer muttered to me: “They’re treating socks like classified documents.”
#ReturnTheirMemories blew up last month after [relative’s name] posted a photo of her mom’s empty jewelry box. But hashtags don’t untangle red tape. And the media? They’ll run tearjerker interviews for clicks, but zero follow-ups on who’s actually responsible for the delays. Classic.
Authorities are “exploring streamlined processes.” Translation: more committees. NGOs are helping families file RTIs—because apparently you need a law degree to get back a pair of reading glasses. The only real pressure’s coming from that one pissed-off dad who told a reporter: “I don’t want your thoughts and prayers. I want my daughter’s hairclip.”
Investigations will drag on, reports will gather dust, but here’s what sticks with me—a woman showing me her husband’s phone, still locked, battery dead. “I just want to see his last selfie,” she said. Not much to ask, is it? Maybe that’s the real test of a system: not how it handles the big tragedies, but the small, stupid, human things that come after.
Source: Hindustan Times – India News
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