Why I Will Never Fly Air India Again

By a former passenger and complainant at the Consumer Court

The recent Air India tragedy near Ahmedabad, claiming nearly 300 lives, has shaken the nation’s conscience. For many, it’s a horrific reminder of how fragile air safety still is, even after decades of supposed progress. For me, it reopens an old wound — one that never healed — and forces me to ask again: has anything really changed at Air India?

It is easy to grieve in silence, to watch headlines scroll across the screen, and then move on. But when you’ve lived through a traumatic experience with the same airline, the grief cuts deeper. The Ahmedabad crash wasn’t just an accident — it was a culmination of operational negligence, poor maintenance, and an organisational culture that seems to treat passenger safety as a secondary concern.

Several years ago, I flew Air India from Chicago to Mumbai — a journey that turned into a 30-hour nightmare. The air conditioning system failed midair, and the cabin quickly turned into a furnace. There was no air circulation. The heat was stifling. Children were crying, the elderly looked dazed and dehydrated, and the rest of us were on the verge of collapse. The only response we got from the flight crew? “You can complain to customer service.” As if that was a balm for what felt like slow suffocation in the skies.

But the ordeal didn’t end there. When we finally landed in Mumbai, I discovered my luggage was missing. It wasn’t just a misplacement—it was a complete black hole of accountability. No tracking, no apology, no empathy. When I confronted the airline’s ground staff, they had nothing to offer except blank stares and bureaucratic shrugs.

And I didn’t stay silent. I filed a complaint in the Consumer Court after returning to Mangalore. But the betrayal didn’t stop with Air India. My own advocate, ironically a well-known human rights lawyer, began skipping crucial hearings. Eventually, I realised she had struck a deal behind my back. The case, which should have been an easy win, was lost due to deliberate neglect.

I had trusted the airline. I had trusted the legal system. Both failed me.

So when I saw the visuals from Ahmedabad, of charred remains, of grieving families, I didn’t just feel sorrow — I felt rage. Because that tragedy could have been prevented. So many passengers, like me, had raised alarms. Complained. Protested. But nothing changed. Not even under the Tata Group, whose takeover was heralded as a new dawn. In truth, it was just old wine in a new bottle. The staff remain indifferent. The systems remain opaque. The consequences, as we’ve now seen, are fatal.

Air India continues to operate with an attitude of impunity, insulated by a brand name and a misplaced nostalgia for “Maharaja” hospitality. But glamour can’t mask rot.

The Ahmedabad crash should not be remembered merely as a one-off tragedy. It must be a turning point. For accountability. For reform. For justice to those who paid with their lives — and for those of us who are still haunted by what could have been.

I made a vow that day, long ago: never again will I step onto an Air India flight. That vow remains unbroken. And I write today not just as a victim of bad service, but as a citizen demanding answers. Because if 300 lives are not enough to spark reform, then what will it take?