Editorial

The Shadow Over Excellence: IIT Bombay’s Latest Tragedy The death of Sahil Wakode, a second-year BTech student at IIT Bombay, has once again forced the nation to confront an uncomfortable truth: India’s most prestigious institutions of learning can sometimes become pressure cookers that crush the very talent they claim to nurture. Found dead in his hostel room hours after being caught using a mobile phone during an examination, the young man from Yavatmal leaves behind grieving parents, a campus in turmoil, and questions that go far beyond one tragic afternoon. According to the institute, Sahil had uploaded the question paper to ChatGPT. Officials insist no disciplinary action was initiated; he was counselled and assured that the incident would not damage his academic future. Yet by evening he was gone. His parents have alleged something darker: months of casteist harassment by a faculty member, now named in an FIR under the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act and charges of abetment to suicide. The Crime Branch has taken over the investigation. The institute denies any caste-based discrimination, stating that students’ caste details remain confidential. Both accounts cannot be true in full. A thorough, transparent probe is essential—not only to establish facts but to restore public faith. Premature judgments serve no one. Yet the larger pattern is undeniable. This is reportedly the third student suicide at IIT Bombay this year. Similar tragedies have scarred other IITs and NITs. High-stakes academic environments, intense competition, isolation from family, and inadequate mental-health support create a toxic mix. When allegations of discrimination surface—whether caste, gender, or region—they compound the crisis. IITs were conceived as meritocratic engines of national progress. Merit, however, is not sustained by brilliance alone; it requires psychological safety. A student who fears humiliation or bias cannot innovate freely. Institutions must move beyond reactive statements. Robust, independent grievance mechanisms, mandatory mental-health screening, accessible counselling, and zero-tolerance policies on discrimination are no longer optional—they are urgent necessities. Sahil Wakode’s death is not merely a personal tragedy. It is a systemic failure. The Crime Branch investigation must be swift and impartial. More importantly, the IIT system itself must ask hard questions about the human cost of excellence. Until campuses prioritise the well-being of the young minds they claim to shape, the shadow of such losses will continue to lengthen. Justice for Sahil demands truth. Prevention for others demands change.

On the final day of Russia’s tightly controlled parliamentary elections, Ukraine delivered its most audacious long-range attack of the war. More than 1,600 drones, according to Moscow, were launched toward the Russian capital region, with roughly 450 directed at Moscow itself. An oil refinery burned. Residential buildings were damaged. At least two or three people died and dozens were injured. For the first time, the war that Vladimir Putin once insisted was confined to Ukraine’s borders arrived with unmistakable force at the gates of the Kremlin.

This was not a random barrage. Targeting Moscow during an election is a calculated act of political and psychological warfare. Ukraine sought to puncture the carefully curated image of invulnerability that the Russian leadership projects at home. By striking energy infrastructure that fuels both the civilian economy and the war machine, Kyiv also aimed to impose tangible costs. President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has framed such attacks as legitimate responses to Russia’s relentless campaign against Ukrainian cities, power stations, and civilians. In pure military terms, the logic is clear: if Russia can hit deep into Ukraine with impunity, Ukraine will eventually find ways to hit back.

Yet the escalation carries profound risks. Every successful strike on Russian soil hardens domestic support for the war among many Russians and gives the Kremlin fresh propaganda material. It also raises the spectre of disproportionate retaliation—against Ukrainian cities, energy grids, or even neighbouring states. The international community, already weary of the conflict, must now confront the possibility that the war is entering a more unpredictable and dangerous phase.

There is, of course, no moral equivalence between the aggressor and the defender. Russia launched a full-scale invasion in 2022. Ukraine is fighting for its survival. Still, the human cost of every escalation remains real: ordinary residents in Moscow suburbs who never chose this war, just as civilians in Kharkiv, Odesa, and Kyiv never chose it.

The attack underscores a grim reality. Neither side appears close to a negotiated settlement. Russia continues to grind forward on the battlefield while Ukraine, constrained in manpower and conventional weapons, innovates with drones and long-range systems. The result is a conflict that grows more sophisticated, more personal, and more difficult to contain.

The world cannot afford indifference. Greater diplomatic urgency is required—not to force Ukraine into surrender, but to create conditions where both sides eventually see a path short of mutual exhaustion or catastrophic escalation. Until then, the drones will keep flying, and the shadow over Europe will deepen.

• SAS Kirmani