Campus deaths in Goa: Concerns for Goans across globe
The writer is a senior woman leader in Washington D.C., with experience across corporate, academic, and non-profit sectors.
“Tired now… sorry, sorry.” Another young life gone. And with her, the future she may have imagined, perhaps becoming an engineer, perhaps something else. At least five more young people before her at the same elite academic institution in Goa, each loss feels heavier than the last. Even one is too many.
When a young life ends this way, the pain is not contained within a family. It ripples outward. Even those who never knew the youth personally feel the weight of it. There is a collective grief, and a quiet question that hangs in the air: How did we not catch this in time?
Goa is often described as idyllic, scenic, relaxed, and charming. Yet this image sits uneasily beside the steady emergence of youth suicides. Something does not seem to add up. Are we caught up in a culture that leaves little room for faltering, opting out, or saying simply, I am not okay.
I am not an expert in mental health, and this article does not present itself as such. What it does ask is a different question altogether: what kind of society are we living in, one that places high expectations on youth, does not give them a chance to opt out of the distressful situation, nor gives them an outlet for their feelings?
Suicide is often the tragic endpoint of distress and a sense of hopelessness. Many such acts happen impulsively, during moments when the weight feels unbearable and the exits feel sealed shut. We may never know the precise contours of that pain.
In the past, families have leaned on faith and prayer, and in recent times, the services of a therapist, to get through. It can be deeply sustaining, but not always enough. The fear of being judged, labelled, or seen as weak often keeps young people from speaking openly.
How can we weave a safety net for our youth? Across educational institutions and communities, we can observe small but powerful interventions like peer support groups, mentorship programs, shared lunches, or even something as simple as an adult spending an hour a week with a student, creating openings where previously there were none.
Friendship Bench DC
But one model deserves far more attention, one that places the power in the hands of wise, experienced, and ready-to-help senior citizens. It’s disarmingly simple and is called ‘Friendship Bench DC’, currently in 14 locations in Washington, D.C. There are no clinics or white coats. It's just a bench, indoors or outdoors, placed in a familiar, safe space, and on that bench sits a grandparent or a senior citizen with their “young friend”.
The senior citizen is trained to listen deeply, patiently, and confidentially. To ask thoughtful questions. And to allow silence. They do not rush to fix, but help the person sitting across from them to make sense of their own thoughts.
Volunteers, often referred to as “grandparents”, undergo structured training in problem-solving therapy. They learn how to guide conversations gently, helping individuals identify challenges, break them down, and arrive at achievable next steps. The emphasis is on reminding people that they are capable of navigating what lies ahead.
A Friendship Bench may be located in schools, libraries, community spaces, churches, parks, or wherever people already get together. The intervention meets youth before they reach crisis. It is preventive, relational, and profoundly human.
What makes this concept especially powerful is who delivers it. Grandparents carry a kind of moral authority with gentleness. They embody patience and they signal safety. For many young people who resist speaking to “professionals”, sitting across from a grandparent feels natural, even comforting. It feels like being heard rather than being examined.
Similar model for Goa
The ‘Friendship Bench’ model holds particular promise for a place like Goa.
Goa has an ageing population that is educated, active, and deeply rooted in community life. Many seniors are eager to give back, to be useful, to stay engaged. At the same time, Goa’s young people are navigating intense academic pressure, shifting social norms, and the quiet burden of expectation. Pairing these two generations could be the most practical thing to do, and it will also serve to restore intergenerational trust. It reframes care as something shared and creates a safety net.
At its core, a Friendship Bench is about building a world that is worth living in. Building a society where no young person feels they must apologise for being tired and give up on life. Help must be accessible, and it must feel safe.
