By Muhammad Mohsin Iqbal
In childhood, if we stepped out of the house for an errand and failed to return at the appointed hour, the entire household would sink into a quiet unease. Mothers would pace, fathers would cast repeated glances toward the gate, and when we finally returned—dusty and carefree—we were met with a barrage of questions that felt little short of a formal interrogation. Irritation often overcame us in those moments, only for a grandmother’s gentle yet resolute voice to remind us that one day we would understand it all ourselves. Time, as it invariably does, proved her right. Today, we worry for our own children in much the same way our parents once worried for us. Each morning, parents dispatch their children to schools, colleges, and universities with a mingled sense of hope and apprehension.
Education remains the safest path to dignity and stability. Yet a chilling fear has begun to haunt families across Pakistan: what if a child were to end their life within the very walls of an educational institution? For parents, no calamity is more devastating, and no silence more unbearable, than the extinguishing of a young life. Lahore, long considered the intellectual heart of the country, has witnessed a disturbing rise in such tragic incidents in recent years, particularly in some private universities. Similar tragedies have also been reported from Peshawar, Karachi, Islamabad, Faisalabad, and other cities. In one case, a student is found lifeless in a hostel room; in another, a young person leaps from a building after a bitter confrontation with administration; elsewhere, hastily written lines, heavy with despair, are left behind.
Each incident flashes briefly across news screens and social media, yet behind every headline lies a family shattered beyond repair. Studies and media analyses indicate that a significant proportion of reported student suicides occur within colleges and universities. Research based on newspaper records over several years suggests that nearly half of such cases are linked to higher education institutions. Even more alarming are the findings of academic surveys: over forty percent of university students in Pakistan show symptoms of depression, while studies among medical and professional students indicate that nearly one-third have considered suicide. A smaller, yet deeply troubling, percentage admit to having attempted it.
These figures, frequently cited in research, almost certainly understate the true scale of the crisis, due to stigma and chronic underreporting. The tragedy becomes even more painful when the victim is a young girl. Instead of restraint and compassion, society responds with whispers, insinuations, and merciless speculation. Her character is scrutinized, her family placed in the dock, and her suffering rendered suspect or sensational. Rarely do we pause to ask, with genuine concern, what unbearable pressure or humiliation might have driven her to such a final decision. The causes of this crisis are complex and deeply interwoven. Academic pressure stands foremost among them.
Many institutions prioritize grades, attendance, and rigid discipline over mental wellbeing. Cases have emerged where students were publicly humiliated for academic shortcomings or threatened with expulsion—consequences that, for a vulnerable mind, can feel like the end of the world. Family expectations, often born of love, can become suffocating when success is narrowly defined and failure treated as disgrace. Financial strain, fear of unemployment, and relentless competition further intensify the anxiety. Modern life has added new dimensions to these pressures. Social media magnifies comparison and failure, exposing young minds to constant judgement while offering little genuine support.
Mental health remains a taboo subject. Many students suffer in silence, fearful that seeking help will earn them labels of weakness or instability. The erosion of patience, tolerance, and empathy in society has deepened their isolation. A profound spiritual vacuum also plays its part. Growing distance from faith has deprived many young people of an inner anchor. Islam forbids suicide and places immense emphasis on hope, patience, and the sanctity of human life. When these values fade, despair finds fertile ground to take root. If this trend continues unchecked, parents will inevitably begin to question whether universities are sanctuaries of learning or arenas of silent torment. This crisis cannot be addressed through perfunctory inquiries after each tragedy. It demands a clear, sustained, and humane course of action.
(The writer is a seasoned parliamentary expert with over two decades of experience in legislative research and media affairs, leading policy support initiatives for lawmakers on complex national and international issues, and can be reached at editorial@metro-Morning.com)
