The narrator shares a personal experience deeply affected by the example of a Flydubai pilot reciting the Hanuman Chalisa during a critical situation. This incident prompted the author to reflect on his own struggle with disability and early mortality.
Ten years ago, an autoimmune disease forced the author to use crutches, and only medication helped control severe pain. The calmness heard in Anuradha Padwal's recording of the Gayatri Mantra helped him fall asleep. He sought other soothing sounds, including the angelic voice of Catherine Jenkins or a church choir.
The author explored a wide range of music—from classical Western opera and symphony to Carnatic and Qawwali. He found a special magic in collective sound, especially when hundreds or thousands of voices merge into one whole. Reflecting on Captain Smith Macchar's recovery, the author recalled an event that took place several months ago at the Chatsworth stadium.
Collective Prayer at the Stadium
More than 15,000 people gathered at the Chatsworth stadium for an impressive rendition of the Hanuman Chalisa, organized by the Chinmaya Mission and led by the renowned Indian spiritual music singer Anupam Jalota. This gathering became a unique example of joint prayer, during which the Hanuman Chalisa was recited twenty-seven times. Standing among this huge crowd, the author was struck not so much by the volume of the hymns as by their impact. Although energy was palpable, there was also a deep sense of tranquility. Thousands of people breathing and chanting together seemed to enter another psychological state.
For deeply religious people, this might have been a manifestation of Hanuman himself, while for those approaching the experience outside of Hindu faith (including the Premier of KwaZulu-Natal), it could simply be the incredible power of rhythm, repetition, breath, and collective concentration. The author suggested it could be both.
The Pilot's Crisis
Captain Macchar found himself in a situation where he had to fight for his life while simultaneously saving 174 passengers on a flight. The flight from Dubai to Tel Aviv was in danger when his second pilot attacked him. The plane suddenly lost altitude. Macchar sustained serious injuries but managed to open the cockpit door, allowing passengers and crew to intervene. Ultimately, the plane was stabilized and made an emergency landing in Saudi Arabia.
The author was particularly drawn to Macchar's remark about those terrible moments: he was reciting the Hanuman Chalisa during the ordeal. Trying to put himself in his shoes, the author imagined the plane under his command rapidly descending after the brutal attack and injuries. The lives of 174 people depended on his next actions. Amidst this unimaginable chaos, his mind turned to 40 verses that he repeated repeatedly.
The Significance of Ancient Practices
This is what makes the Hanuman Chalisa so captivating. Written by the poet-saint Tulsidas in the 16th century in honor of Hanuman, it has become a symbol of strength, courage, devotion, humility, discipline, and selfless service. This prayer does not merely ask for supernatural intervention; it constantly directs the mind toward qualities necessary for a person facing fear, depression, anxiety, or mere unease.
Perhaps this is one reason these ancient practices have endured for centuries. We live in an era where anxiety, trauma, and psychological disorders are increasingly discussed through the lens of neuroscience, psychiatry, and clinical psychology. However, science is beginning to study what religious traditions practiced intuitively for generations—the effect of repetition, focused attention, breath, and mantra on the mind.
It is emphasized, however, that the Hanuman Chalisa is not a substitute for psychiatric care, psychotherapy, or medical treatment, and the ancient prayer should not be presented as a miracle cure for trauma. It should be considered that we might be mistaken in believing that modernity and tradition must be opposites. The human brain has not changed because of the advent of smartphones, airplanes, or artificial intelligence.
Searching for an Inner Anchor
A frightened person remains frightened, a grieving person remains grieving, and a person in severe pain, like the author limping on crutches seeking relief, still needs something around which to organize their mind. For millions of Hindus, this anchor may be the name of Hanuman, while for others, it might be another prayer, psalm, mantra, meditation, controlled breathing, music, or simply a familiar sequence of words quietly repeated until the heart begins to calm down.
To understand the experience of finding support in words, one does not need to be Hindu or accept the theology behind those words. The author recalls watching at the Chatsworth stadium how thousands of people surrendered to the rhythm of the Hanuman Chalisa. Hearing Captain Macchar's story about reciting the mantra during the rescue of passengers, he wondered if what he saw at the stadium was, in another form, preparation for the psychological storm the pilot faced.
People often talk about physical preparation for emergencies: pilots train for mechanical failures, firefighters for fires, soldiers for combat. Perhaps people also need ways to train the mind. Regardless of whether a person understands the power of mantras as divine, psychological, neurological, or some mysterious combination of all of these, there is wisdom in learning to calm the mind before a crisis moment arrives.
We cannot choose the storms that come into our lives, but perhaps we can choose what we carry inside us when the storm hits. Sometimes it can be forty verses. Sometimes it can be just a breath, as the author learned by raising his hands to the sunrise every morning. And sometimes, when everything falls apart, a small mental anchor can be enough to find the courage to continue, to give up the crutches, and to focus the power of the mind.