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This extract from Flying High: A Parsi Life of Gratitude: 37 Amazing True Stories That Are Stranger Than Fiction by Noshir N. Sanjana has been reprinted here with permission from the author.

We have to explain to the youngsters of today that phones were not cameras, and cameras didn’t have memory cards but something called film rolls. Film rolls came wrapped and sealed in tiny canisters and we could get either 24 or 36 shots in a roll. But this is not a lesson in the ancient art of taking pictures without a phone.
In that era, I owned a Kodak camera. It was an expensive one, by my standards. In my excitement over the new camera, I used up more than a dozen rolls of film within a few months. I would have gone on to use more, but for the fact that the camera got jammed one day when I was taking a picture. It would not click. The flash did not work. I tried opening the camera in order to extricate the half-exposed reel. The reel was badly jammed and immovable. Try as I might, I could not pry it out. I did not want to use excessive force and break the delicate mechanism and render the camera inoperable. The Kodak showroom in town should be able to repair it, I thought. It was not enough for them to sell expensive cameras, they had to offer repair and maintenance services, I was convinced.
A few days later I took my camera to the Kodak showroom on Sir Pherozeshah Mehta Road and requested them to release the reel from the camera. After fumbling with it for some time, and calling other colleagues to try, I was told that they would have to send it to their head office for outstation repairs. I expected the issue to be small and was quite annoyed. What was the point in having such a swanky showroom if they couldn’t release a film roll from a camera that their company sold? I took my camera and left the shop.

  Air India’s in-flight supervisor Noshir Sanjana (l) with VIP passenger Mother Teresa

 
One of the perks of working for an airline is that you can ask to be scheduled on a flight going to a country where you have to run an errand!
At the time, I was an in-flight supervisor for Air India (AI). The next day I requested the AI scheduling section to assign me to a flight to Tokyo via Hong Kong. My plan was to get my camera fixed in Hong Kong — the Chinese being very skilful and nimble in most repairs.
A week later, at Sahar airport in Bombay, before my flight to Hong Kong I declared my camera’s name, make and model number on the customs departure declaration form. This was the norm so that I could take it with me to Hong Kong.
I took my camera to a few repair shops in Kowloon. None of the shops could assure me that they could get it fixed in the limited time that I would be in Hong Kong. Let me go back one step — with confusion written on their face, none of the repair guys could figure out what had gone wrong with the camera and why it was so badly jammed. Their uphelpful "Buy new camella! Ha, ha!!” was getting me quite irritated. Disappointed and discouraged, I took my camera with me to the next stop — Narita in Tokyo.
I got the same response there. From Kodak shops, no less! What kind of company did not stand by the products they made? "No repair. Much cheaper to buy new camella!” is all I heard. Frustrated, I gave up on the idea of repairing the camera. Even though we touched Hong Kong on the return flight three days later, I did not bother trying to get the camera fixed.
My last leg home was from Hong Kong to Calcutta. The airport manager at Hong Kong informed us that we were to fly a VVIP to Calcutta. Still brooding over my non-functioning camera, I nodded moodily and walked on. "Mother Teresa,” he said. I stopped in my tracks, all thoughts of the camera dissolving like out-of-focus photos. Mother Teresa. "The” Mother Teresa. Even to utter her name, one had to take a solemn breath before that. Mother Teresa — the Roman Catholic nun and missionary. Mother Teresa — who founded the Missionaries of Charity. Mother Teresa — Nobel Prize winner. Mother Teresa — declared a saint by the Roman Catholic Church after her demise.
When I informed the crew about our VVIP guest, they were all very excited. Immediately a cry went around asking if anyone had a camera. "Noshir has one,” one of them said. "I saw him fill out the customs declaration form in Bombay.” There are several times in my life when I have hoped the ground beneath me would open up and swallow me, but that wish was at its peak that day. I told them that my camera was not working and that I had failed in getting it repaired. Their faces fell. We checked with the cockpit crew, and none of them had a working camera on board.
Boarding had started and we were honored to welcome the diminutive, very sweet, loving, radiant, devout, saintly, and very, very angelic Mother Teresa on board. We were floored to see her in person.
Desperate, my crew cajoled me and tried their best to convince me to check out the camera one more time. Irritated, more at myself than the others, I told one of my crew members to take it out from my briefcase and check it out himself, if he thought I was lying. My purser brought the camera to me. "See,” I said, and pressed the jammed button to prove my point. Click! The most beautiful music I had ever heard. I was absolutely shocked, astonished and stunned — lo and behold, my camera clicked! With a blinding flash! I couldn’t believe my eyes and my ears. A miracle had come to life right before our very eyes. It truly was like a divine intervention. Mother Teresa! It was her!
The camera showed the reel was halfway through and there were about 10 shots left in the roll. We were giddy with excitement, almost delirious. We took the camera to the upper lounge where Mother Teresa was seated. I spoke to her, stammering, of course, and explained the story of the malfunctioning camera and its resurrection. She just gave me a beatific smile in return and agreed to take pictures with us.
Since we had only nine or 10 shots left, we decided to form small groups so that everyone got a chance to be in this impromptu photo shoot. Nine historical, cherished, glorious pictures. Although the camera clicked and flashed with each shot, I was on tenterhooks in case it got stuck again or even worse, in case the camera was merely clicking and flashing without taking any pictures. I had to wait till I reached a photo studio in Bombay to have the film developed.
After touching ground, I was at the nearest photo studio the first thing the next morning. I was jittery while I waited for the camera to be taken to the dark room and the verdict to be announced. The studio owner came out of the dark room beaming and confirmed to me that there were nine beautiful group pictures with Mother Teresa in the roll. We were so happy that I slapped him on his back and he congratulated me as if we had birthed nonuplets in the dark room.
I made copies immediately and sent them to all the crew members via the AI transport department. Those days, there were no mobile phones and very few of us had landlines. But all the crew members managed to reach me and thank me profusely for allowing them to take part in the miracle.
I still have those nine pictures with me and I will treasure them forever.
What happened on that flight between Hong Kong and Calcutta? I can only say that Saint Mother Teresa truly performed a miracle for us 30,000 feet above ground level. We were all blessed to be part of this.