The death of Awais Sultan, a university student, shook not only his campus but the entire nation. A young life was lost after a fall from a height, and despite rescue teams rushing him to the hospital, he did not survive. In those first painful hours, fear and confusion spread rapidly among students and staff. Questions hung heavy in the air, and answers were painfully absent.
Before facts could surface, social media rushed to fill the silence. Posts, videos, and accusations spread like wildfire. Claims of murder, institutional negligence, and cover-ups dominated timelines. Public anger grew, and reputations—both personal and institutional—were damaged without evidence. In moments of grief, outrage replaced patience.
Later, as investigations progressed and CCTV footage emerged, a clearer picture came into view. The video showed that no one else was present at the time of the fall. There was no physical altercation, no involvement of another individual. The speculation that had fueled public rage collapsed under the weight of facts. What many believed to be a crime was not one.

This tragic incident exposes two deep cracks in our society.

First, the silent mental health crisis among students. Academic pressure, personal struggles, and emotional isolation often go unnoticed until it is too late. Universities must do more than educate—they must protect, support, and listen. Counseling services, awareness programs, and safe spaces are not luxuries; they are necessities.

Second, the danger of unchecked misinformation. Sharing unverified claims may feel like seeking justice, but it can instead create injustice—deepening grief for families and harming innocent lives.

Not every tragedy is a crime. But every tragedy is a reminder: to be compassionate, to wait for truth, and to care more deeply for mental health. Only then can we truly honor lives lost—and prevent future ones from slipping away in silence.

Credit: Independent News Pakistan (INP)