The silent crisis of student suicide: A call for compassion

Suicide is an act that ends a life, but before a young person reaches that point, something much deeper has already broken: trust, hope, and the belief that tomorrow can be better than today. Suicide is tragic at any age, but it becomes unbearably disturbing when teenagers—barely 14 to 18—choose to end their lives. These are the years meant to be full of dreams, curiosity, and the promise of possibility. Yet, so many young lives are being cut short by despair. The question we must ask is not “What is wrong with the child?” but “What is wrong with us?”

As a society, we speak proudly about our progress, our education system, and our achievements. We watch films like 3 Idiots, Taare Zameen Par, and Udaan, applaud their messages, and then return to pressuring our children in exactly the same ways those films warned against. If students are dying, it is not merely their failure — it is a failure of parents, of teachers, of educational institutions, and ultimately of society itself.

The National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) in its Accidental Deaths & Suicides in India (ADSI) report reveals that more than 15,000 students die by suicide in India every year — an average of over 41 students per day. More than 90% of these deaths are linked to examination pressure and academic failure. These staggering numbers are not statistics; they are an indictment. 

Parents often believe they know what is “best” for their children. They want them to secure “good careers” — not always for the child’s happiness, but to fulfill their own incomplete dreams and social aspirations. Many children are not allowed to choose their own path. Their wishes are overwritten, their talents dismissed, and their individuality suffocated. What they face is not guidance, but control. 

One 17-year-old student from Kota, who scored above the cut-off marks in JEE, wrote in her suicide note to her mother: “Please mom, jo chalakiya apne mere sath ki, meri choti behan ke sath mat karna. Mujhe history aur political science padhna pasand tha, but apne mujhe zabardasti science dilwayi.” She further wrote to the government pleading to shut down coaching institutes to save lives. This letter was written in 2016. A decade later, suicides continue — and in larger numbers. Clearly, the lesson was not learned. 

Various coaching institutes and educational institutions, once celebrated for producing engineers and doctors, has acquired the grim identity of a “suicide factory.” Students as young as 15 live alone, away from emotional support, buried under competition, miserable in silence, and terrified of disappointing their parents. The slogan floats in the air:

“IIT mil jaye, fir life set hai.” 

But reality disproves this myth. Many IIT graduates later struggle with lack of emotional resilience, relationship failures, mental health challenges, and existential confusion. Degrees and job titles cannot guarantee happiness — something that neither schools nor parents prepare children to understand. 

Alongside academic pressure, many students encounter other challenges — loneliness, financial stress, bullying, breakups, substance abuse, and cyber harassment. These problems intensify when the child lacks a safe emotional space. Often, what hurts them most is not failure, but the fear of disappointing the people they love. If parents expressed genuine love and unconditional support, many suicides could be prevented. 

It is a misconception that suicide is an act of weakness. Many who take this step are deeply sensitive individuals overwhelmed by pain, with no visible escape. Research shows that if someone empathetically stands by them at that moment, the urge reduces drastically. Suicide can often be prevented through compassion and listening. 

Fortunately, the government has started acknowledging the crisis. India has drafted its first National Suicide Prevention Strategy, seeking to reduce suicide rates by 10% by 2030, with a strong focus on student mental health. Such initiatives matter, but policies alone cannot replace parenting, understanding, and emotional guidance. 

The true prevention lies not in coaching reforms alone, but in how families and schools cultivate young minds. Parents must understand that: 

Love does not spoil a child. Burdened expectations do.

A child does not need perfection to succeed in life — they need support to survive it. 

Teachers, too, must encourage students to explore diverse interests, discover their strengths, and pursue careers that align with their talents, not merely societal ranking charts. We need to teach children how to live — how to handle failure, relationships, and disappointments — because life will not spare them these experiences. 

Conclusion:  

The value of life is greater than any exam result, degree, designation, or institution. No post — whether IAS, IIT, MBBS, or corporate — guarantees happiness. The youngest suicides we read about often have high scores; what they lacked was not intelligence but emotional cushioning. 

If parents could sincerely tell children:

“We love you, no matter what. We are with you in every circumstance,”

many tragedies would never unfold. 

Every child deserves a chance to live life fully — not to merely qualify for it. As a society, our responsibility is not to produce toppers, but to raise confident, emotionally healthy, and compassionate human beings. 

Because life is always larger than any exam, any failure, any degree, or any dream. 

(The author Devraj Thakur  is National Joint Secretary, Akhil Bhartiya Rashtriya Shakshik Mahasangh – Delhi India) . Contact @ drthakur868@gmail.com