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When Melbourne resident Manan Sheth answered a call from his father on the evening of his birthday, neither knew it would be their final conversation.
Hours later, Dr Himanshu Sheth, an anaesthetist travelling to London for work, was among 241 passengers and crew killed when Air India flight 171 crashed shortly after take-off from Ahmedabad, a major city in western India.
The tragedy carried an additional layer of heartbreak.
The Boeing 787 Dreamliner crashed into the campus of the same institution where Himanshu had trained as a young medical student decades earlier.
As the anniversary of the tragedy approaches, Manan and his wife Hetal Sheth are remembering the father, doctor and mentor they lost, the legacy he left behind and the questions that remain unanswered following the world's deadliest aviation accident in a decade.
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One year on: What investigators know so far
On 12 June 2025, Air India flight 171 departed Ahmedabad for London's Gatwick Airport carrying 230 passengers, 10 cabin crew and two pilots.
Less than a minute after take-off, the aircraft crashed into the hostel and canteen building of BJ Medical College, around 1.5km from the runway.
The disaster claimed the lives of 241 people on board. Only one passenger survived — British national Vishwashkumar Ramesh, whose escape from the wreckage stunned investigators and observers alike. Nineteen people on the ground were also killed, bringing the total number of lives lost to 260.
The official cause of the crash has not yet been determined.
A preliminary report released by India's Aircraft Accident Investigation Bureau (AAIB) last year found that fuel to the aircraft's engines was cut off shortly before the crash. The report did not assign blame or reach a conclusion on whether the disaster was caused by technical failure, human error, maintenance issues or broader systemic factors.
Indian authorities were expected to release a more detailed report on the first anniversary as investigators continue to examine the circumstances that led to the crash. However, the report is likely to be delayed, according to a report by the Reuters news agency.
According to media reports, India's civil aviation minister, Ram Mohan Naidu, said earlier this year that the investigation was in its final stage and could even be completed within a month.
"However, the investigation is being done by the AAIB, and we don't interfere in it. We are giving them all the resources they need," he said in May.
Emphasising the need for transparency, Naidu said the final report would be subject to international scrutiny because the flight was also carrying 61 foreign nationals.
For families like the Sheths, the findings cannot change what happened. But one year on, many are still hoping they will help explain why.
The last phone call
For Manan, who lives with his wife and two daughters in Melbourne's western suburb of Rockbank, the memories of 12 June 2025 begin not with news alerts or television coverage, but with a phone call from his father.
It was Manan's birthday and Himanshu had called to wish him well before beginning his journey to London.
Like countless conversations they had shared over the years, it was routine and familiar.
"My father called me to wish me for my birthday. He said, 'I just called you to wish you before I board the plane. Enjoy your day. I will call you tomorrow once I reach London,'" the 45-year-old tells SBS Gujarati.
Neither could have imagined it would be the last time they would speak.
Hours later, as the family was preparing to go out for a birthday dinner, reports emerged that an Air India flight bound for London had crashed shortly after taking off from Ahmedabad.
Initially, the family struggled to believe what they were hearing.
But as details slowly became clearer, Manan and his family were confronted with a reality they struggled to comprehend: Himanshu had been on board.
"We had just spoken to him, we thought it might be a minor incident and that he would simply take another flight," he says.
When we saw the news on television and images of a massive fireball, and people were taken to the hospital, we realised that it was a huge disaster.
In the chaotic hours that followed, information was scarce and often conflicting. Families across India, the United Kingdom and around the world searched for updates, clinging to hope as authorities worked to establish who had survived.
"Even then, we searched desperately for signs of survivors, hoping to find our father's name among those taken to the hospital," Hetal tells SBS Gujarati.
She says that hope faded as the scale of the disaster became clear.
A doctor, mentor and guiding force
To many people, Himanshu was a highly respected medical professional.
To his family, he was much more.
Manan describes his father as both a parent and a trusted friend. Whenever he faced an important decision, whether personal, professional, or financial, he says his father was often the first person he called.
"He was always there to help," he says.
Friends, relatives and colleagues regularly sought Himanshu's advice.
"No matter the time of day or the nature of the problem, he was willing to listen and guide people in the right direction," Manan says.
Hetal also remembers him as a warm and caring person who she says brought people together.
Where it all began, it ended
Manan says, for his father, the BJ Medical College was more than a place of study. It was where he laid the foundation for his medical career, built lifelong friendships, and began imagining the future.
It was also where he met his future wife.
"My father's professional journey had begun at that campus. Many of his lifelong friendships were formed there. His future family had its roots there," he says.
The family did not immediately realise the significance of the location when the news of the crash first emerged. It was only later, as they reflected on old memories and family stories, that the connection became fully apparent.
For Manan, the coincidence remains difficult to process.
It is an unimaginable twist of fate. Where he studied, his life came to an end.
The long wait for confirmation
Soon after learning of the crash, the family travelled to India.
What followed was an agonising wait as authorities worked to identify victims through DNA testing, but days passed without confirmation.
Manan recalls the uncertainty of those first days.
"As soon as we reached India, we followed all the procedures to search for our father's body," he says.
"My uncle gave his DNA samples, but it couldn't match.
"Every morning brought fresh hope and fresh disappointment. After nearly ten days, a second DNA sample was requested. We finally received confirmation, and that moment brought mixed emotions."
There was relief in having certainty, but it came alongside the devastating confirmation of what they had feared.
Despite the circumstances, the family says government agencies, hospital staff and emergency officials supported them throughout the process, assisting with documentation, transport and funeral arrangements.
Still seeking answers
One year on, the Sheths continue to follow developments in the investigation.
Like many families affected by the disaster, they say they are still waiting for clarity about what led to the tragedy.
"For us, accountability is not about blame. It is about understanding what happened and ensuring future tragedies can be prevented," Hetal says.
The family has remained in contact with relatives of other victims as they continue to monitor updates on the investigation.
"We have a right to know what happened," Manan says.
A life remembered, a loss lived daily
In the months since the crash, life has settled into a different rhythm for the family in Melbourne, though Himanshu's absence is still felt in everyday moments.
Conversations that once came easily now feel unfinished, and decisions that were once shared now sit in silence.
Across generations, Manan says his father's memory lives on in different ways — in fragments remembered by grandchildren, in guidance recalled by relatives and in the presence friends say they still miss.
For Manan, the absence is most present in the ordinary moments of daily life.
"Whenever I used to ask him to come to Australia, he used to crack a joke and say, 'I don't have money to buy flight tickets, please buy for me so I can visit.'"
Beyond the investigation and the headlines, Manan says his father would be remembered not for how his life ended, but for how he lived it.
This story has been produced in collaboration with SBS Gujarati.
Griefline provides confidential support on 1300 845 745 and via griefline.org.au
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