Why are we still watching a mental health crisis unfold across our school campuses – and responding with half-measures and pilot projects? Why are our children navigating a hypercompetitive, hyperconnected world with no guaranteed access to someone who will simply listen? Why, even after young lives are lost, are we treating mental health as a bonus instead of a basic right?
On July 25, 2025, the Supreme Court of India delivered a historic judgment. It didn’t just address one case of student death – it exposed a nationwide failure to safeguard the emotional well-being of students. The Court described India’s student suicide crisis as a “systemic malaise”, a term that should rattle policymakers into immediate action.
In 2022 alone, over 13,000 students died by suicide across India. Of these, more than 2,200 were linked to exam failure. Let that sink in. That’s one student lost every 40 minutes – not to disease or accident, but to preventable mental distress, to a system that pushes relentlessly but listens rarely.
Goa’s situation is even more worrying. The state’s suicide rate is nearly twice the national average, and in just the last three years, at least five student suicides have been directly linked to academic stress and psychological distress. For a small, relatively well-resourced state, this is nothing short of alarming. We cannot afford to brush this under the carpet or outsource the solution to non-profits and part-time consultants. The failure to take school mental health seriously is costing us lives.
The Mukhyamantri Samupadeshna Yojana, Goa’s newly introduced counselling scheme, promises to bring 150 counsellors and 25 supervisors to address student distress. It’s a welcome beginning – but that’s exactly what it is: a beginning. Goa has over 1,000 schools. This scheme, even if implemented fully, translates to one counsellor for every six to seven schools. In an environment where students need real-time emotional support, that ratio simply does not cut it.
Mental health is not a rotating duty. Children cannot schedule their breakdowns on Thursdays when the counsellor visits. What they need is someone present – someone they trust – in the school every day.
The Supreme Court, recognising this growing crisis, issued landmark interim guidelines under Articles 32 and 141 of the Constitution – creating a national standard for mental health protections in educational spaces. These aren’t policy suggestions. They are enforceable directions. And they represent the minimum safety net every child deserves.
Key among them: Every educational institution with 100+ students must have at least one trained full-time counsellor, psychologist or school social worker. Smaller institutions must partner with certified professionals.
Teachers and staff must undergo mental health training twice a year – on emotional first-aid, distress signals, referral pathways and inclusive engagement.
Anonymous mechanisms for reporting bullying, abuse or discrimination must be in place, with zero tolerance for inaction.
Suicide prevention protocols – including helplines, response systems and referral linkages – must be prominently displayed and integrated into school SOPs.
Parental sensitisation sessions and structured career counselling must be conducted to reduce academic pressure and unrealistic expectations. Annual mental health audits must be conducted and submitted to the appropriate education regulatory bodies. These guidelines make one thing abundantly clear: If a school does not support mental health, it cannot claim to be safe.
Children today are under unprecedented pressure. They aren’t just facing exams – they are navigating cyberbullying, sextortion, screen addiction and digital isolation. These issues don’t come with visible injuries. They fester in silence, shame and fear. And when schools lack a full-time, trained mental health professional, who do children turn to? Too often, no one.
I have heard children disclose unimaginable pain – abuse, suicidal thoughts, online trauma – often after carrying it for months or years. Children want to speak. But they need someone who listens, without judgement or dismissal. If schools can’t offer that space, they are not safe. If governments don’t mandate that space, they are not serious.
Let’s not pretend the solutions are elusive. They are not. What is missing is political will, budgetary commitment and a sense of moral urgency. If we can fund mega-events, road projects and surveillance systems, we can fund a full-time counsellor in every school. Anything less is negligence.
Goa has historically taken the lead in child rights. We were among the first to pass a dedicated Children’s Act. We have built structures around juvenile justice and protection. But this is where we are currently lagging – and the cost is unbearably high.
The new scheme in Goa can be a seed – but only if we water it with political will, professional expertise and sustained public pressure. As someone who has held children in moments of their worst pain… as someone who has tried to keep systems accountable… and as someone who refuses to stay silent while our children suffer in plain sight, I end with this:
“Every child deserves someone to talk to. If schools can’t provide that, they aren’t safe. And if governments don’t mandate that, they’re not serious.” Let this not be another moment of mourning. Let it be a moment of reckoning. Because the next time a child dies by suicide, the question will not be what happened. The question will be: Why didn’t we act when we still could?
(Peter F Borges is Assistant Professor of Social Work at the D D Kosambi School of Social
Sciences and Behavioural Studies, Goa University. )