Campus deaths in Goa: Concerns for Goans across globe
The writer is a community mental health practitioner with a not-for-profit organisation in Australia and concurrently undertakes freelance journalism, producing digital media content for television, radio and YouTube
The reported suicide at a premier educational institute in Goa may be the sixth in the last 13 months. That fact alone should unsettle us deeply. What is even more disturbing is the likelihood that this represents only a fraction of the reality.
Across the State of Goa—and indeed across India—there are likely many more suicides involving young students in schools and colleges that never reach headlines or public scrutiny. This compels us to ask an uncomfortable but necessary question: who do we hold responsible for these deaths?
Late last year, another tragic incident affected me personally. A young, bright man from a well-established family, who had returned home after discontinuing his studies in the UK, died by suicide. I learned about his death through relatives. I did not know him personally, yet I found myself wondering what must have gone through the mind of a young person who, from the outside, appeared to have a promising future ahead. These stories are not isolated incidents; they are signals—clear warnings that something is failing our young people.
As a community mental health practitioner and journalist based in Australia, I often return to simple, human questions: “Are you OK?”, “Do you need to talk?”, “Can we talk?” These are not clinical interventions, but they are powerful openings. Sometimes, these few words are enough to help someone begin to open up—even when they feel trapped in the darkest corner of the room.
The death of Vaishnavi, a 20-year-old student at the BITS Pilani Goa campus, is one such tragedy—and an uncomfortable mirror held up to India’s higher education system. I do not see this as an isolated failure, but as part of a recurring pattern that demands urgent systemic reflection.
What is striking is that BITS Goa reportedly has mental health policies, helplines and 24×7 counselling facilities aligned with Supreme Court guidelines. Yet, this is the sixth student death in just over a year. This raises a critical question: are mental health systems meant to exist on paper, or to actually reach students before they reach breaking point?
Student mental healthcare in Australia
In Australia, student mental health challenges are real and ongoing, but the education system operates on a different philosophical foundation. Academic rigour exists, but it is not celebrated at the cost of wellbeing. Pressure is recognised as a risk factor—not a badge of honour. Universities are legally bound by duty-of-care obligations, and student welfare is treated as a shared institutional responsibility rather than an individual burden.
Mental health support in Australian universities is embedded into everyday academic life. Flexible deadlines, reduced course loads, mental-health leave, pass/fail options, and early-intervention pathways are standard. Students are not required to fail publicly or reach crisis point before support is activated. Importantly, seeking help carries far less stigma. Therapy and medication are openly discussed, and faculty members are trained to recognise warning signs and escalate care.
Pressures in Indian campuses
This stands in contrast to many Indian campuses, where hyper-competition, relentless performance metrics and fear of academic penalty create a culture of silence. Vulnerable students are expected to identify themselves, overcome stigma and seek help—often while already struggling with depression, anxiety or burnout. This is a deeply flawed model. Those most at risk are usually the least likely to ask for help.
The tragedy at BITS Goa also exposes a deeper cultural issue: the equation of excellence with endurance. High-pressure learning environments that leave no room for emotional distress are not producing resilient students; they are producing exhausted ones. When multiple deaths occur within the same ecosystem, responsibility cannot be placed solely on individual circumstances. Institutional design matters.
Role of media, government
The role of the media in shaping public understanding of such deaths is equally important. In Australia, reporting on suicide is governed by strict national standards. Journalists avoid sensational headlines, refrain from describing methods or locations, and prioritise context, prevention and help-seeking resources. Suicide is treated as a public health issue, not as scandal or spectacle. These guidelines exist because decades of research show that irresponsible reporting can trigger copycat behaviour.
In India, despite advisory guidelines, reporting often remains graphic, speculative and personalised. Headlines frequently name the deceased, describe alleged methods, and frame suicide as a result of failure—academic or otherwise. This not only causes more pain to families but also makes suicide seem like a normal reaction to stress. Media narratives must shift from “what happened” to “what failed around this student.”
Responsible reporting does not mean silence. It means asking difficult questions without causing further harm. It means highlighting systemic gaps, normalising conversations around mental health, and consistently including crisis-support resources. The media is not a passive observer; it is an active stakeholder in prevention.
Governments, too, cannot remain silent spectators. Institutional autonomy does not remove accountability when lives are lost. Independent inquiries, transparent audits of mental health systems, and enforceable standards for early detection and follow-up are essential. Without accountability, policies remain little more than posters on notice boards.
In my view, governments must step in decisively to create safe spaces so that no one is left to face their darkest moments alone.
Preparing, protecting students
Vaishnavi’s death is a grim reminder that education systems must evolve faster than the pressures they create. No academic ranking, placement record or institutional prestige can justify the loss of young lives. Excellence that ignores mental wellbeing defeats its own purpose.
If education is meant to prepare students for life, then protecting life itself must be its most fundamental responsibility. It is time institutions, governments and the media confront this uncomfortable truth—and act before another name is added to the list.
