Two Manipuri girls’ last flight

By Allen Brooks

Guwahati, June 17, 2025: In the heart of Manipur, where rolling plains and enchanting hills whisper tales of unity and strife, two young girls, K Nganthoi Sharma of the Meitei community and Lamnunthem Singson of the Kuki-Zo community once gazed up at the same sky and dreamed of wings.

As children, they must have lain on the grassy slopes and fields, watching planes fly past, igniting within their hearts an ambition to fly one day.

I presume Nganthoi, with her quick laugh, would spread her hands and mimic the roar of engines, while Lamnunthem, quieter but resolute, sketched planes in her notebook. But despite their different roots, their dreams converged in the clouds and careers.

Manipur’s skies had opened to the world in the 1960s when Air India’s first flight landed in Imphal, a symbol of connection for a state often isolated by geography and conflict. That runway became a lifeline, igniting dreams, carrying hopes, students, families, and stories.

For Nganthoi and Lamnunthem, like many others, it was more—it was their launchpad. Both girls, inspired by tales of air hostesses who bridged worlds, worked tirelessly, excelling in school and training to become cabin crew. Their families, though divided by community lines today, must have shared common pride when the two girls donned Air India’s iconic uniforms, as their smiles shone brighter than the planes they served.

Tragically, on June 12, an Air India’s Dreamliner crashed at Ahmedabad and claimed both their lives, uniting both the Meitei and Kuki-Zo communities in grief. The Air India Flight AI171 crash in Ahmedabad resulted in a confirmed death toll of 279. This includes 241 of the 242 passengers and crew on board and an additional 38 people on the ground.

As Manipur awaits the return of their daughters’ mortal remains, the state learned of another loss: Air India announced the end of its operations to Imphal. On June 15, the final Airbus A319 lifted off from Bir Tikendrajit Airport, Imphal, closing a glorious 60-year chapter. The skies over Manipur felt emptier, as if mourning the girls and the legacy.

Nganthoi’s mother recalled her daughter’s habit of gifting her small souvenirs from flights—a keychain from Delhi, a scarf from Kolkata—each a token of her soaring spirit. Lamnunthem’s brother spoke of her letters, filled with stories of passengers she helped, her gentle voice calming nervous flyers. These anecdotes wove a tapestry of shared loss, transcending community divides as tears and embraces now speak louder than their differences. For the two who stood together in work stand united in death too.

The Imphal airport, once a bustling hub, stood quiet, the runway holding memories of the first flight and the ground crew making their final farewells. Elders reminisced about the 1960s, when Air India’s arrival sparked dreams in a generation. Pu P. Doungel IPS(Rtd), former DGP Manipur, recalls, “It was the first airline to land here. I remember as kids we could walk right up to the gate to drop the passengers, and there was no checking at all.” As for Nganthoi and Lamnunthem, and many more, it ignited a fire that carried them skyward.

Today, though their lives and the Airline’s presence ended, their story has kindled hope. In Manipur’s plains and hills, children will still look up, dreaming of flights, their ambitions a bridge between communities, just as the girls once were.