– Mohammed Talha Siddi Bapa
They boarded the flight as a family, full of hope.
Dr. Pratik Joshi, a seasoned software professional living in London, had finally created the space and stability to bring his loved ones across continents. His wife, Dr. Komi Vyas, a physician at Pacific Hospital in Udaipur, Rajasthan, had just resigned from her medical practice. Their three children – Miraya, the eldest at eight, and twin boys Nakul and Pradyut, both five – were thrilled. New schools awaited. A new home. A new rhythm of life.
On the morning of June 12, 2025, the Joshi family checked in for Air India Flight AI-171, bound from Ahmedabad to London. Moments before takeoff, they took a photo – smiling, shoulder-to-shoulder, a perfect snapshot of a life in motion.
They never landed.
A Dream Years in the Making
For nearly six years, Dr. Pratik had lived and worked in London, carefully saving and planning for the day his family would join him. His wife’s decision to resign, their children’s preparation, the final goodbyes exchanged in Ahmedabad – all of it spoke of careful intention and heartfelt longing.
This was not a holiday. This was a migration of the heart – a family leaving behind the familiar to build something new. And as the aircraft rose into the sky, the excitement of reunification filled their cabin.
Less than three minutes later, it all ended.
The aircraft, a Boeing 787 Dreamliner, issued a distress call and plunged into a neighbourhood near Ahmedabad’s B.J. Medical College. Everyone on board perished – except one.
Among the 242 passengers and crew, not one member of the Joshi family survived.
The Image That Speaks
Their final selfie has since been shared across the world – a soft-lit moment in the cabin, five faces leaning into the frame. There is no sign of worry. No fear. Just a quiet joy that comes from believing the future is within reach.
It is a photo that now speaks louder than any words.
Because that image is not just theirs. It is ours. How many of us live our lives waiting for the right time? The perfect job. The ideal school. The last EMI. The moment when things finally feel “ready.”
But life doesn’t always wait. The calendar we plan from isn’t always the one written for us.
Between This World and the Next
There is something sobering about the way they left – together, as they lived. No one was left behind. There were no missed calls, no unanswered texts. There was only one journey, shared from beginning to end.
And perhaps, in that, lies a strange kind of mercy. Because while their earthly plans were cut short, their togetherness endured – beyond the boarding gate, beyond the sky, perhaps even beyond this life.
For those who believe that life is not the destination but the passage, that death is not the end but the crossing – this tragedy carries a quiet clarity. That what matters most isn’t how far we go, but who we hold close while we’re here.
What Remains
Across India and the UK, friends, colleagues, neighbours, and strangers have gathered in prayer and remembrance. Some light candles. Some weep in silence. Others share the family’s story to remind themselves – and others – what really counts.
It is not success, nor certainty, that defines a life well lived. It is love. It is presence. It is the courage to plan for tomorrow and still be fully alive today.
The Joshi family lived that kind of life. And in their final flight, they left us not only with sorrow – but with a story that softens the noise of this world and awakens the heart.
May their memory be a blessing. And may their final journey remind us all: the future is never guaranteed, but this moment is. Live it gently, live it gratefully, and live it well.
