Why us? The emotional aftermath of Ahmedabad air crash

Ahmedabad: The air was thick with grief and disbelief in the aftermath of the devastating plane crash in Ahmedabad, as families rushed to the Civil Hospital in search of answers, hope, or perhaps just closure.

The raw emotions ranged widely: a husband plagued by guilt after losing his wife; a father angrily refusing to accept that his son was gone; and others swinging rapidly between denial and devastation. The psychiatrists listened—often in silence, offering an empathetic presence.

The devastating air crash on June 12 had shaken the city—and their lives—to the core. For many, it marked the beginning of an emotional journey more harrowing than they could have imagined.

Amid the chaos, the Department of Psychiatry at B J Medical College here swung into immediate action.

A team of psychiatrists—five senior residents and five consultants—were deployed around the clock across the hospital’s Kasauti Bhavan, the postmortem building, and the civil superintendent’s office.

Their mission: to support the surviving families through the mental trauma of a tragedy.

So far, the identity of 259 victims, including 199 Indians and 60 nationals of the UK, Portugal and Canada, has been established, while 256 bodies have been handed over to their families.

"The accident was unimaginable. Even bystanders were disturbed. Then what must be the condition of someone who lost their loved one?" said Dr Minakshi Parikh, Dean and Head of Psychiatry at BJMC.

"If the people who heard the news were so disturbed, then it is not even within our scope to imagine the state of mind of the family members of people who lost their lives," she told PTI.

With horrifying images of the crash already circulating, families poured in—numb, desperate, and clinging to threads of hope. The mention of a lone survivor sent hearts racing. Many believed—needed to believe—it could be their loved one.

"There was an uncertainty whether one would be able to identify the loved ones they have lost and wait for matching of the DNA samples for three days. In some cases, samples of another relative of the kin had to be taken. The shock would have logically led to acute stress reactions and post-traumatic stress disorder," Dr Parikh said.

"There was complete denial,” recalled Dr Urvika Parekh, an assistant professor who was part of the crisis team.

"They kept asking for updates, insisting their family member had survived. Breaking the news gently, while having no confirmation ourselves, was incredibly difficult. We had to provide psychological first aid before anything else," she recalled.

Dr Parekh said the hopes of many relatives hinged on the news of a lone survivor who they felt could be their loved one.

"We had to deal with the denial and explain that nobody could have survived the horrific crash (except one who was not their relative)," she added.

She said the relatives initially didn't want counselling as they were devastated and angry over the lack of information. "It was also difficult to accept the truth without seeing the bodies of their loved ones. Counselling aided them at this critical juncture," she said.

A man, Parekh recalled, sat speechless, refusing to cry or talk. His wife had died in the crash.

"There was immense guilt—survivor guilt (that he is alive and his wife died). We gave him anti-anxiety medication to help ease the immediate stress. Eventually, he began to speak. He talked about their plans, their memories. It was catharsis. We didn’t interrupt—we just let him speak and communicated through silence and empathy,” Parekh said.

She said in such cases empathetic listening played a crucial role.

"We were managing their anger, outburst, and their questions like 'why us' (why did it have to happen to us)," she said.

For many, the most unbearable part was the wait. DNA confirmation could take up to 72 hours, sometimes longer. In the meantime, grief festered, fuelled by uncertainty. Some relatives insisted they could identify the bodies themselves.

"There was one father who kept saying he didn’t need DNA tests—he could identify his son by his eyes," Parekh shared.

"We had to gently discourage that. Seeing their loved ones in such a state could trigger PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) and depression. We told them: it’s better to remember them with a smile than with charred remains.”

The team worked through the five commonly known stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—though rarely in a linear way.

"People cycle through these stages. Someone might accept the loss in the morning and fall back into denial by evening,” said Parekh. "So we mourned with them. That was part of the therapy".

Parekh stays in one of the buildings on the residential campus where the plane crashed after take-off. Her building didn't suffer any major damage.

Sleep-deprived and broken by anticipation, many began to unravel.

One Air India crew member’s family waited seven days for DNA confirmation. "The exhaustion, the helplessness—it broke her mentally," said a relative. “But the counselling helped. Those sessions were our only anchor."

"A calm voice, the right amount of information, and simply being there—these saved a lot of families from spiralling into chaos,” said Dean Parikh.