Eraj Alisherov
When God Turned On Airplane Mode: The Silence of the Cosmic Signal
The Deafening Sound of Unanswered Prayers
December 2025
— I am writing this to ask a question that haunts the quietest corners of my mind: what happens when the connection to the divine is not just weak, but deliberately severed? We live in an era where cosmic forces seem to send us calamities not as tests, but as punishments, and when we call out in prayer, we are met with a silence so profound it feels like a dial tone. I don’t know if you feel it too, but it seems as though God has simply toggled a switch. This article is not a complaint; it is an observation of a terrifying possibility—that the ultimate punishment is not hellfire, but being left entirely alone.
SERVICES
Risk Advisor, Accountability Leader, Strategic Forecaster
Backstory
I was sitting on the chair of my balcony in an apartment on Mauritius Island, quietly looking at the beautiful mountain, Piton de la Petite Rivière Noire. The view was majestic, a masterpiece of nature that should have brought me peace. But instead of peace, I felt a cognitive dissonance—a clash between the serenity of the mountain and the chaos unraveling in my mind.
I started thinking about myself, my family, and the entire human race. I looked at the sky, expecting a sign, a cloud, a whisper. Nothing. It hit me then, a thought as cold as the wind: God has turned on Airplane Mode.
The prayers are coming and coming, billions of them rising from the earth like steam, but they are not being delivered. They are stuck in a cosmic outbox, queuing up for a recipient who has gone offline. Something is slowly dawning on us that we don’t even notice, and in a strange, twisted way, I think that terrifying silence is something beautiful—because it forces us to finally look at ourselves.
Current Reality
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When I look around, I just want to say one thing: “What is happening to this world?” It feels as though the universe has its own rules of physics that are shifting beneath our feet, affecting us in ways we cannot even fathom. I had a talk with one of my friends from Iran, the land of my ancestors. He told me about a drought devouring the capital city, Tehran. You might say, “It’s just a drought.” But consider this: the population of that city is 16,000,000 people—more than the entire population of Tajikistan. The government is talking about moving the people, but you cannot simply pick up a megacity and move it because the water has run dry. I told my friend, “Maybe they need the entire province to become a new capital.” But deep down, I knew that was just hope speaking. The reality is harsher. I checked my own birthplace, Central Asia. Uzbekistan? A drought like never before. Tajikistan? The same situation. I looked at Afghanistan, where rumors swirl about rerouting rivers—pure rumors, but desperate ones.
I looked further. Sudan—witnessing the bloodiest war of the decade (through the safety of YouTube, of course, but the horror transmits through the screen). Ukraine—thousands of souls giving up their lives in the biggest war since World War II. The Caribbean, Venezuela—tens of boats blown up, a nation on the brink of eternal war. The Taiwan moment heating up, ticking closer to a climax. Palestine and Israel, Iran and Israel, Syria, Iraq—eternal wars that seem to have no end. So many unnecessary things happening because of trivial things. And I asked myself: Am I living in the end of times? Is this true for me, or for everybody else?
The Future
If we accept the premise that the "Airplane Mode" is on, we must ask why. In a world governed by cause and effect, this silence is not random; it is a response. Imagine a parent who finally stops scolding a rebellious child and simply goes quiet. That silence is far more terrifying than the shouting. The universe is sending us signals—droughts, wars, rumors of collapse—and we are replying with prayers. But the prayers are not fixing the physics. God decided a different outcome than what we expected.
We are entering an era where we are alone in the cockpit. The auto-pilot is off. The control tower is not responding. We are flying this plane called Earth manually, and we are doing a terrible job of it. I believe this silence is the ultimate test. It is easy to be good when you think God is watching and grading you. It is much harder to be good when you suspect that no one is watching at all.
That is where we are heading—a future where our morality must come from within, because the external validation has vanished. If God is silent, then we must speak. If the rain does not come, we must find the water. We are being forced to grow up, violently and quickly.
Which Path Should I Take?
I recall walking down the streets of our capital city in Tajikistan, Dushanbe. I looked back around at the streets, the people, the sky, and I suddenly realized all the shitty, sinful, silly things I did in my life. A wave of guilt washed over me, and I asked myself: “Oh my God, so many things done by only me that are a secret to everyone but You… how come I did not get any punishments till now?” I looked at the sky, realizing that at any moment, God could change anything for me—He could strike me down, or save me. But somehow, He remained silent. "God, You are too silent now," I whispered. "And I don’t even know why."
Perhaps I will find the answers to these questions at the end of my life. If not, I am definitely going to meet the One who created me, and then, maybe, the silence will be broken. But until then, the path is clear: If the prayers are on hold, the actions must be immediate. We cannot wait for the signal to be restored. We must live as if we are the last line of defense.
The Land of Ajam
“I called my mom, a woman deeply close to the values of God, and I asked her, ‘What is happening with this world?’ She didn’t hesitate. She said, ‘Drought is a signal of the end of the days.’ I paused. I wanted to argue, to offer a strategic forecast or a risk assessment. But instead, I just said, ‘Maybe.’ May God protect us again and again. But as I hung up the phone, I realized that her faith and my fear were two sides of the same coin—both of us waiting for a call that hasn’t come through yet.” — Eraj Alisherov, The Patriot
The End
“Darius the Great, the King of Kings, once inscribed a prayer on stone for his empire: ‘God protect this country from enemy, from drought, and from lies.’ Today, as my friend reminds me, we have all three. The enemy is at the gates, the drought is in the soil, and the lies are in our news. It seems God has decided a different outcome than what King Darius prayed for.”
— Eraj Alisherov, The Patriot
And so, we sit on our balconies, looking at mountains that have stood for millions of years, and we wonder if we will see the next century. We live on alert, not because we want to, but because the silence demands it. To live in this era is to accept that the "Airplane Mode" might not be a glitch—it might be the new setting. And in that silence, we must find our own voice.
Modern data confirms the chaos we feel is not just in our heads. According to the UNHCR 2024 Global Trends Report, the number of forcibly displaced people has reached a historic record of 123 million, driven by the very conflicts and instability we witness daily. Furthermore, the water crisis is no longer a distant threat; reports from World Weather Attribution (2025) indicate that the reservoirs serving Tehran have dropped to 12% capacity, confirming that the drought is not a cycle, but a structural collapse. These numbers prove that while the line to the divine may be silent, the alarm bells of reality are ringing louder than ever.
TEHRAN RESERVOIR CAPACITY
DISPLACED POPULATION
