In a development that has sent shockwaves through the aviation world and made gin merchants reach for the tonic, the father of the Air India pilot involved in Wednesday's catastrophic crash has vowed to defend his son's honour. 'My boy is a good pilot,' declared Mr. Sharma Senior, brandishing a photograph of his offspring in full pilot regalia, complete with a moustache that could only be grown through sheer force of will. 'He has never crashed a plane before. This is a one-off, a statistical anomaly, a mere hiccup in the grand narrative of Indian aviation.'
Meanwhile, UK aviation experts, who have never met a hypothetical they couldn't throttle into submission, have been circling like vultures over a particularly juicy corpse. 'We must question the safety protocols,' intoned one such expert, Dr. Alistair Pringle-Bottomley, from the comfort of his leather armchair in Surrey. 'For instance, why are planes allowed to fly so close to the ground? It seems unnecessarily risky.'
The crash, which occurred during a routine landing approach at Kozhikode, has left the nation in a state of confused mourning. The pilot, it turns out, was attempting a 'tabletop landing' on a runway that sat atop a hill like a nervous cat on a fence. 'These are standard procedures,' Mr. Sharma insisted, while waving a sheaf of papers that may or may not have been his son's flying license. 'The runway was wet. The wind was gusty. The gods were angry. It's not his fault.'
UK experts have since proposed a series of alternative measures, including banning all flights during rain, requiring pilots to consult with astrologers before takeoff, and replacing aircraft engines with prayer wheels. 'Safety is paramount,' agreed Pringle-Bottomley, though it remains unclear whether he has ever actually set foot on a plane without a stiff drink and a Valium.
As the investigation continues, the father's vow has sparked a wider debate about filial piety versus airworthiness. 'In India, we respect our parents,' shouted a man in the crowd, before being tackled by security. 'But in the air, we respect the laws of physics!' shouted another, who was promptly escorted out for being too sensible.
The crash site itself has become a pilgrimage site for aviation enthusiasts and conspiracy theorists alike. 'I see the hand of God here,' said one bearded gentleman, pointing at a piece of twisted metal. 'Or possibly the hand of Boeing.' No one knows. No one ever knows.
In the midst of this chaos, the pilot himself remains hospitalised, presumably dreaming of those glory days when he flew through clear blue skies without his father having to defend him in the court of public opinion. 'He will fly again,' vowed Mr. Sharma, tears glistening in his eyes. 'Even if I have to buy him a new plane myself.'
UK experts, meanwhile, have issued a statement demanding that all aircraft be fitted with parachutes. Not for the passengers, mind you, but for the pilots. 'Pilots are expensive to train,' explained one expert. 'Passengers are cheaply replaced.'
As the sun sets over Kozhikode, one thing is clear: in the world of aviation, as in life, there are no easy answers. Only gin. And lots of it.
