This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Molina Singh, a 22-year-old from Delhi who was on board Akasa Air Flight 1719 on June 3. It has been edited for length and clarity.
I haven’t traveled alone a lot — this was probably my second flight alone. My parents were worried about me because they think I’m a homebody.
I recently started working after college and joined the YouTube team for creator marketing and strategy. There was a creator campaign going on, and their head office is in Mumbai, so I traveled from Delhi for that.
The flight was in the air, and everything was going smoothly. Everyone was kind of asleep or just chilling, and suddenly, the cabin crew came up to all of us.
Everyone was woken from their naps and asked if a piece of cabin luggage was theirs. To the last row, no one identified the luggage.
I was sitting in row nine, so I could see the cabin crew working, and they seemed very confused. And suddenly, the captain announces that we’re landing. Turns out, they were diverting to Ahmedabad, which is a good hour away from our destination.
They said there was a security concern. And as a person who’s not traveled a lot, I was like, “Shit, what’s happening?”
It took us 15 minutes to land. No one told anyone anything, and everyone was confused. We were asked to vacate the plane immediately.
Everyone was supposed to leave their luggage inside the plane, but half of them took it. I left mine because the pilot himself asked me, and I couldn’t say no. I put my phone and wallet in my overalls, and I left.
We thought they just wanted to check something for 15 or 20 minutes, but thank God I took stuff because we were stranded there for like 12 hours.
So we were on the runway, and there was a heat wave in Ahmedabad. (Temperatures in Ahmedabad reached over 100 degrees Fahrenheit on June 3.)
Through overhearing cops, I figured out there was a tissue found in the plane that had “Bomb on flight” written on it.
Then they dragged us to arrivals at Ahmedabad Airport, where there was a barricaded area, which was very small for the 186 people on the plane.
The police asked us to write “Bomb on flight” in our own handwriting with our seat number.
People were worried because they didn’t have cash or their phones, and they didn’t let us go to the bathroom or give us water. It was just very hodgepodge.
At this point, you’re not a customer of the airline, you’re a suspect.
The police called out nine or 10 names who could match the handwriting. They took them to a separate area and made them do double and triple checks.
Then they took us all in two different sections to write “Bomb on flight,” I think 36 times — dividing your tissue into four and writing on alternate sides.
Nothing is coming out of it. I think the problem was there was no protocol for this.
After three hours, they finally allowed us to get food and go to the bathroom, surrounded by a lot of police.
By 8 p.m., everyone had given up hope. This was also the time that everyone was trauma-bonded. I’m talking to aunties and people I’ve never talked to. We’d exchanged Instagrams. We were just using one phone and a charger to contact our parents and everyone.
Finally, they gave us new boarding passes. It still took us two hours to board because they made us identify our luggage. Even in the night, it’s burning hot. Because the luggage was under the direct sun for eight hours, people’s MacBooks stopped working, and my lip gloss melted.
After we board the plane they give us a few packets of Namkeen, which are like chips. I’m like, “Oh wow, thank you for that compensation for the torture.”
It was a wild experience. I think people were frightened and afraid at the start because no one gave us any information. We just figured it out on our own. After that, everyone was like, “Hey, this is something we have to get through.”
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