On Ealing Road in Wembley women drape colourful sarees across their heads, a sign of respect to the dead. Though life continues – the scents of burning sandalwood, jasmine, fresh methi and coriander, coconuts glinting like marbles and thick sugar cane leaning lazily in the dry June heat – ‘Little India’, as this part of London is known, mourns the loss of the 241 killed in Thursday’s (June 12) air disaster.
The crash, India’s deadliest single-aircraft disaster in decades, occurred at 1:38pm on Thursday, local time. The plane was headed from Ahmedabad’s Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel International Airport to London Gatwick. But seconds after departure, the Boeing 787 Dreamliner went down, striking a multi-storey hostel housing doctors from a medical college. Among the dead were 229 passengers and 12 crew members. There were 53 British people on the flight. Indian officials have said five medical students on the ground also died.
Ask cloth, gold, and sweet shop owners here in this corner of Brent, and some say grieving staff have been given the day off. Ask a group of chattering old men who sit outside the Wembley Gospel Hall if they know someone in grief, and everyone nods. It is difficult to find someone who has not been affected. Most people here have no words.
For thousands of Gujaratis, this mile-long stretch of road between Wembley and Alperton has long been a happy place, with many living in terraced houses on the surrounding streets, and more visiting resident family members. Today the sarees, dancing to the breeze, all head one way down Braemar Road, floating to a standstill as they reach the former home of 44-year-old Chandu Baguane.
“He was the sweetest, generous person, the happiest person I have seen,” Chandu’s son Ridham Chandu tells MyLondon. The 19-year-old is surrounded by more than a dozen men and more than twice as many empty sandals. The sound of lamentation from inside the house is harrowing but eerily beautiful. A harmony of wails set to a deep and grave spiritual refrain.
Later Narendra Thakra, the Chairman of Wembley’s Shri Sanatan Hindu Mandir, tells me: “There’s nothing better than chanting God’s name.” The chanting is to help people forget, Narendra says, but today for Ridham there is no chance of this.
Grasping at every word, Ridham explains how his father went to Diu, an island town connected to Southern Gujarat, to cremate his own mother, Ridham’s grandmother. Chandu was coming back to London to hand out wedding invitations, and to take Ridham’s sister back to India for her marriage, but less than a mile after take-off, Air India Flight Al-171 crashed and burned.
“I’m just in distress about losing my dad. I just recently lost my grandma too,” Ridham says, quiet and despondent, “He was my main supporter. He really supported whatever I did. He was also there for everyone that I know.”
Kirti Khambhaitm, a Jehovah’s Witness, was with the good friend of an affected family when news reached North-West London. Ajay Kumar Ramesh was killed on the flight, sitting alongside his brother, the only surviving passenger Vishwash Kumar Ramesh.
“They were obviously very distraught,” 54-year-old Kirti says, “I was with our friend. She got a phone call from her sister [Ajay’s sister-in-law] who said this is what happened.”
Thrust into the role of caregiver, Kirti called the Embassy to give them Ajay’s details, and to arrange for family members to travel to India so they can contribute DNA to help with identification. Barely 24-hours later she is stood outside a cookware shop, offering support anyone who needs it. When we talk about the number of British passports on the passenger list, she underlines that many of the Indian nationals on the flight would have been just a part of Britain’s social fabric, including regular visitors to families and students in higher education.
“It’s a miracle you see, nothing apart from a miracle,” says Narendra, sat in his office at the temple. He is describing a remarkable interview given by Ajay’s brother Vishwash from his hospital bed. “He was sitting near the emergency exit and the door broke and he saw and he just jumped out there. The other side could not open because there was a wall there. He does not know how he survived, he just came out and then he started looking for his brother.”
Narendra’s desk is a messy with printed emails. Journalists from around the world are flooding his inbox and doorstep with requests for an interview. He waves paper at me. “Sky and BBC,” he says, seemingly invigorated by the task. I tell him: “It must be a lot of weight on your shoulders.”
“There is,” Narendra sighs, “A lot of people have died. There are many from Gujarat. Many people come to our temple. Their relatives are here. They went to see relatives. They were returning back. They were the victims.”
Gujaratis in Brent are looking to people like Narendra for leadership. The temple will host a large memorial for the dead late on Sunday afternoon, while just up the road the Brent Indian Association (BIA) plans to hold a vigil on Saturday from around 5pm.
“A lot of people are coming in, giving their condolences,” says BIA Chairman Sunjay Mehta, handing over a list of telephone numbers that Londoners can use if they are concerned about a relative (They are at the bottom of this piece). Sunjay knew two chefs who died in the crash, and says the previous chairman of the association also lost someone close to them.
In Jalaram Sweet Mart I find Daxesh Patel gloomily scrolling through a passenger list on his phone. More than half the surnames on the list are ‘Patel’, he points out, zooming in to every single one. The list is long. Daxesh looks more pained the longer we speak.
Originally from Nadiad, a town only 30 minutes from the airport, Daxesh is glued to his phone for news of victims. One story feels particularly cruel. “There is one lady in our relation,” Daxesh says, “She went to see her in-laws. She was supposed to come on the seventh [of June] but extended her stay until yesterday. She boarded that plane with her husband and four-year-old boy.”
Air India owner Tata Group has offered £86,000 for every dead passenger. For Daxesh, though: “Money is not the matter.” He cannot stop thinking about the dead, not just the passengers, but crew members and people on the ground, doctors who were reportedly having their lunch when the plane struck.
“It’s really sad. I can’t describe any words with it,” the 45-year-old says, “It’s really sad for humanity, the world.
“Everyday when you wake up and see your phone, there’s some bad news that comes through. ‘His mother in the plane’. ‘His father in the plane’. ‘Someone’s husband in the plane’. What can we do? There’s prayers and nothing else.”
The following numbers were provided by the Brent Indian Association, who are hosting a vigil at 116 Ealing Road on Saturday from 5pm. The Shri Sanatan Hindu Mandir will also be holding its own memorial event on Sunday from 4pm.
Air India Emergency Number: 1800 5691 444
Ministry of Civil Aviation (India): 011-24610843 / 09650391859
High Commission of India in London: 07768765035
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