Oblivious of what is going to happen tomorrow, or the next moment, we all live in a world of dreams. There are a number of people in our extended family, who have gone to Dubai with such dreams after realising that they would not earn enough if they stay back. As far as I know, they work day in and day out to make a decent living and they are also spread across the Gulf countries.
They are burdened with the responsibility of footing the hospital bills of their sick parents, make arrangements for the wedding of their sisters and also set aside money for the education of their less fortunate kith and kin. They are also expected to make sure that their wives and kids back home are enjoying a decent enough life. For the masses, they are ‘foreign’ guys. When they return on vacations, many feel a pang of envy by the whiff of their perfumes and the dresses they flaunt.
But they also become a source of inspiration to the easy-go-lucky youngsters, who for a moment start dreaming big. They also strike an instant chord with their old friends and get nostalgic about the days of childhood. But within some days, they get ready to return to the barren land in pursuit of their livelihood. Tears are shed over the negative aspects of Gulf life in some intimate discussions, with relatives and friends sharing the grief. Once the vacation ends, they fly off from the Bajpe airport, leaving the family members weeping and sobbing.
These people, who always dream about getting back to their hometown, would not have thought that the aircraft they were travelling in on May 22 would plunge into the gorge after hitting the runway wall at 6.15am and push them into an inferno. Among these were five of my close relatives, who were charred beyond recognition in the tragic crash.
Usman, the husband of my niece (elder sister’s daughter) Rubina, after working for years in Gulf, had managed a decent living and had also become a huge support for the rest of the family. He was living in Abu Dhabi with his wife and four children. Born and brought up in Kakkinje near Ujire, Usman never hesitated to lend a helping hand to his kith and kin, who would approach him for varied reasons including marriage, school fees and hospital bills.
A BCom graduate, Usman was working in a reputed company in Abu Dhabi and also ran a stationery store during his free time. He also helped his brothers and brother-in-laws get decent jobs in Abu Dhabi. On the ill-fated morning he was rushing to Mangalore to visit his ailing mother. As he could not get a ticket from Abu Dhabi, where he normally flies from, he boarded the aircraft from Dubai, bidding goodbye to his wife and two children.
When I contacted my brother, who is also in Dubai, after the crash, he said Usman’s wife Rubina, who is just one year older to my daughter, was crying uncontrollably. I asked him to be by her side and console her as much as he could. I had visited their home in Abu Dhabi, when I was on a visit ten years ago. His little daughter looked like a carbon copy of Rubina. I also took a snap with the little girl. (I have attached the same with this article).
Even now, I can’t come to terms with the fact that Usman died in the crash. I was disappointed not to find his name in the list of six people who had miraculously survived the crash. Around afternoon, when the television flashed the names of the other three who defied death, I grew curious when I came to know that one among them was a Mohammed Usman. I called up my friend Bava and asked him to find out if it was the same person. He apparently sent his son to Unity hospital, where he was told that the survivor is not the Usman we had hoped he would be. In fact he was a passenger from Karkala. Now the biggest question before me is how I would console my sister and my niece Rubina, who is now in Mangalore along with her two children.
The four others in our extended family, who have died in the crash are Zulekha Banu from Ullal and her sister Nasima Mohammed Ashraf, and her niece and the niece’s five-month-old baby. Zulekha Banu is the wife of Dr Mayabba, who had acquired fame as a medical practitioner in Ullal. Currently Dr Mayabba is in Dubai and Zulekha was on a short visit to Mangalore to attend a wedding in the family. Her body was identified by her close relatives by the watch and the bangle she was wearing.
Another heart-rending story is that of a family of 12 people who were coming down to attend a funeral. They were burnt alive even before they could see their deceased mother. Many of these dead bodies were lying at the morgue as their names or identities were not known. Ironically, the articles like watch and bangles, which were not devoured by the blaze, acted as ID cards in a number of cases.
Who is responsible for this? Did pilot err in his judgment? Was it because we did not heed to the warning given by experts before the new runway was built? Whatever be the reason, these have given fodder to the media and an opportunity to fill up their broadcast slots. Does this in any way help those who are still in shock and distress?
Time takes everything in its fold. Azaan is ringing from the minarets, bells are peeling at the temples. The world moves on after a fall, sulking, crying and then rising again.
(Translated by Thufail Muhammad, Courtesy: Kendasampige )
Comments
Add new comment