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After a few months, when things start to go back to normal, they begin to feel all is lost. Flashbacks, nightmares, and fear of repetition set in.
When people ask how someone can live after seeing so much death, the answer isn’t courage, it’s endurance. Survival isn’t the end of trauma; it’s its beginning (Image: Canva)
When Air India Flight AI171 crashed in June 2025, the world saw one man walk out alive from the wreckage – Vishwash Kumar Ramesh. Cameras caught him limping away, ash and flame behind him, disbelief on his face. In the days that followed, he was called “the miracle man”. Yet, months later, that miracle feels like a curse. He lives with sleepless nights, phantom pain, and a hollowness that refuses to fade.
His story has reignited conversations around what happens after survival, the silent psychological war that begins once the body heals but the mind refuses to.
The Hidden Toll of Survival
Surviving a plane crash, tsunami, car accident, or terror attack creates an illusion of victory. But for many, the end of physical danger is only the start of emotional collapse. Psychiatrists call it post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD – a mental health condition that often appears after the body has recovered.
In Vishwash’s case, it’s the invisible wounds that cut deepest. He lost his brother in the crash – the one person he called his anchor. He still wakes to nightmares of fire and screams. Normal sounds like fireworks or sudden thuds jolt him into panic. His body escaped, but his mind remains inside that burning aircraft.
Understanding PTSD After Near-Death Experiences
Dr Krithishree S S, Consultant in Psychiatry at KMC Hospital, Mangalore, explains that such trauma rewires the brain. “His condition is PTSD – post-traumatic stress disorder, which affects patients who have had a near-death experience,” she says. “He lost his elder brother, who was like a backbone to the family. Within a fraction of a second, the people he walked in with turned into ashes around him. He didn’t have time to process the situation while trying to escape.”
When survivors like him return to routine, the shock doesn’t fade; it mutates. “After a few months, when things start to go back to normal, they begin to feel all is lost. Flashbacks, nightmares, and fear of repetition set in. They go to bed every day but can’t sleep well. Even distant incidents of similar nature can trigger the same panic,” she explains.
In clinical terms, these are “intrusive memories” – the mind replaying terror in loops. It’s not imagination; it’s the brain’s survival system gone rogue, trying to keep the person alert forever.
The Body Keeps the Score
Neuroscientists note that PTSD is as much physical as psychological. The amygdala, the brain’s fear centre, stays hyperactive. The body pumps cortisol and adrenaline at the slightest cue – a sound, a smell, a memory. Over time, this wears down sleep, digestion, and immunity.
That’s why survivors often describe a “stomach-churning” feeling or physical unease when reminded of the event. Dr Krithishree notes, “They develop sensitivity to sound and experience emotional numbing. Even firecracker noise can make them shiver.”
It’s the body’s way of saying: You survived once. Don’t relax again.
The Long Road to Healing
For patients like Ramesh, recovery is neither quick nor linear. Dr Krithishree says that if symptoms are severe, “they need systemic desensitization.” In such cases, medication comes first – to stabilize sleep and anxiety levels. “Once they’re about 50 to 60 percent better, we begin different therapies specific to each patient. Three to six months of medication may be enough to control symptoms, but therapy might take years.”
These therapies include trauma-focused cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), eye-movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR), and exposure therapy all designed to retrain the brain to separate past fear from present safety.
But therapy alone doesn’t cure. Survivors need consistent social support. Isolation worsens PTSD. Avoidance – skipping gatherings, shutting off conversations – creates a bubble where fear festers. That’s where families and communities matter. A patient’s healing often mirrors how gently society treats their pain.
The Ghost of the Moment
Every near-death survivor describes a peculiar kind of time distortion, the second between life and death replaying endlessly. Psychologists call it “temporal freezing”, where the brain stores that moment in unusually vivid memory.
For Vishwash, it’s the seconds after the plane hit the ground – the smell of burning fuel, the weight of silence before the screams. For tsunami or accident survivors, it might be the rush of water or the screech of metal. These sensory memories often come back stronger than visual ones, triggering full-body panic responses.
It’s why so many survivors avoid certain sounds, places, or even weather patterns. A thunderclap, a whiff of kerosene, a flight announcement – any of these can become a portal to the past.
Why We Call It a “Miracle” And Why That Hurts
Society romanticizes survival. News headlines call them “blessed”, “chosen”, “reborn”. But those labels can deepen guilt. Survivors often ask: “Why me?” The miracle narrative pushes them to feel grateful when they’re really grieving.
Ramesh’s recent interview captures that paradox. “God gave me life, but took all my happiness,” he said. It’s a line that echoes what trauma specialists hear often, that survival feels more like punishment than gift.
Celebrating a survivor too early can erase their pain. True empathy begins by acknowledging that survival and suffering coexist.
What Helps
Modern psychiatry is beginning to understand trauma not as a disorder to be “fixed”, but as a wound that must be integrated. Along with therapy and medication, trauma-informed care includes mindfulness, structured physical routines, and community reintegration.
Simple daily stability – cooking, walking, listening to music – grounds the mind in the present. Support groups help survivors share without judgment. Over time, these small repetitions teach the brain that safety is possible again.
Lessons Beyond One Man’s Story
Vishwash Kumar Ramesh’s case is one among thousands worldwide, from plane crashes to natural disasters to war zones. What unites them is the invisible aftermath. Survivors rarely get the long-term care they need. Insurance covers bodies, not minds. Media moves on; therapy bills pile up.
For India, this tragedy should be a wake-up call to integrate psychological first aid into all disaster-response protocols. Mental-health follow-ups should be as routine as physical check-ups for survivors.
When people ask how someone can live after seeing so much death, the answer isn’t courage, it’s endurance. Survival isn’t the end of trauma; it’s its beginning. As Dr Krithishree reminds us, “They may look physically fit, but the mind is still fighting that one moment again and again.”
For the world, Vishwash Kumar Ramesh remains the lone survivor of Air India AI171. But inside his mind, the crash has never ended. His journey reminds us that true rescue begins long after the rescue itself.
November 04, 2025, 15:22 IST
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