ospitals are meant to save lives. On August 26, however, lives were lost at the Pakistan Institute of Medical Sciences. The fire that engulfed the neonatal nursery of the PIMS was not the first hospital fire in the country. Over the years, wards have burned in Karachi, Lahore and Rawalpindi—each incident revealing the same pattern of faulty wiring, neglected alarms and emergency protocols that exist more on paper than in practice.

This fire carried a different weight.

Fourteen newborns died before their families ever had the chance to take them home. What made this tragedy even more unbearable was the post-incident behaviour. The official silence, defensive statements and absence of moral urgency created an atmosphere in which the death of infants seemed to have dissolved into administrative routine. It was this indifference that made the fire psychologically inextinguishable and unforgettable.

Images of smoke, frantic staff and parents running through corridors have already entered public memory. But the wounds of this tragedy live far beyond what the eye can see. They live in the minds and bodies of the parents who lost their children; they reverberate across a society that has grown accustomed to institutional failures yet remains incapable of absorbing the death of children without a profound sense of rupture.

For any parent, the arrival of a child marks a psychological turning point. Parents begin to imagine the newborn’s future. They shop for clothes, discuss names and wait with a mixture of excitement and gentle anxiety. Modern improvements in child mortality have reduced the fear that once surrounded childbirth. After delivery, mothers undergo intense biological and emotional priming. Hormone levels rise, sensory awareness sharpens and the body prepares for the slow and delicate process of attachment.

When a newborn dies in an avoidable tragedy within days of birth, this trajectory collapses. The grief that follows is not ordinary sorrow. It is a form of complex traumatic loss shaped by suddenness, violence and preventability. The mother’s body continues to produce milk. Her hormonal cycles insist on nurturing. Her emotional world remains oriented toward a child who is no longer there. This becomes a grief felt not only in the mind but also in the body. The grief refuses to settle on account of its unexpected nature.

The trauma of seeing one’s child unidentifiable—requiring DNA matching to be claimed—transforms grief into multilayered traumatic bereavement. Parents will experience intrusive mental images, sudden flashbacks, hyperarousal and persistent replays of their child’s final moments. These are not ordinary memories. They are psychological imprints that return without warning and disrupt sleep, appetite, concentration and the ability to function. Many parents will also experience moral injury—the shattering of their belief in a just world. They may blame themselves for trusting the hospital or for not being present or for failing to foresee the unforeseeable. This guilt is irrational yet common in catastrophic loss and can become a lifelong burden if not addressed with care.

The tragedy does not end with the families. It reverberates across the entire society.

Hospitals are meant to be sanctuaries, places where vulnerability is met with care and where life is protected. When a hospital becomes the site of preventable death, the social contract collapses. Citizens lose trust not only in healthcare but in the state’s ability to safeguard life. This is institutional betrayal, a form of collective trauma that erodes public confidence and replaces it with fear. Even those far removed from the event experience vicarious traumatisation. Images of burnt incubators and grieving parents create shared grief and helplessness. People realise that basic safety is not guaranteed, even in spaces where it should be unquestionable.

The same mantra is repeated every time after such a tragedy. Financial problems, negligence and system collapse. This normalisation of deviance attempts to create an environment where catastrophic failure becomes inevitable. Bureaucratic structures often diffuse responsibility so widely that no one feels personally accountable. Safety becomes an abstract concept. Many staff members, working in chronically under resourced environments, internalise a sense of helplessness. The systemic decay consumes their potential and produces apathy.

These patterns are not accidental. They are rooted in the historical legacy of colonial administrative structures where governance was designed to manage populations rather than value human life. Postcolonial states inherited bureaucracies that prioritise institutional convenience over citizen welfare. In such societies, the death of an ordinary citizen is often treated as an unfortunate statistic rather than a national emergency. The valuelessness of human life becomes an indispensable social feature, visible in the way tragedies are absorbed, discussed and eventually forgotten. The PIMS fire is not an isolated event. It is a symptom of a historical condition in which human life has not been the central organising principle of governance.

Healing from a tragedy of this magnitude requires a multi-layered response. Families need immediate and specialised trauma interventions, including trauma-focused grief therapy and long-term psychological monitoring. Support groups can provide safe spaces for families to share their pain and reduce isolation. Systemic restorative justice is essential. Public trust can only be rebuilt through transparency, accountability and meaningful structural reforms that ensure safety protocols are not merely written but lived.

Among the therapeutic options available, eidetic psychotherapy stands out as particularly effective for trauma involving vivid intrusive imagery. Developed by Akhter Ahsen, it works directly with mental images and memory traces. Instead of suppressing traumatic imagery, it allows individuals to access and transform it safely. This is crucial for parents who cannot stop imagining their child’s final moments. Eidetic therapy can reduce intrusive mental pictures, ease traumatic guilt, restore emotional revival and rebuild internal resilience. It is culturally adaptable, humane and grounded in the lived experience of trauma rather than abstract theory. In Pakistan, where mental health resources are limited, it offers a path forward that is accessible, fast acting and deeply effective.

In Islamabad, the Psychology Department at Bahria University has long recognised the need for specialised trauma care. After the Army Public School tragedy, the university established its Trauma Treatment Unit to provide free psychological support to families devastated by catastrophic events. That commitment remains vital today. The families grieving their newborns need more than formal condolences. They need gentle, sustained care provided without financial or administrative burden. Free consultation and psychological support ensure that every parent, sibling and relative can step into a space where they can share their pain without judgment, speak without fear and begin to process a loss that feels impossible to bear.

Support cannot fade when the news coverage shifts. True care requires a steady, fully accessible path forward. Therapy is not meant to force someone to move on or erase their grief. Grieving is a deeply human response to loving someone deeply. The goal of psychological support is to help parents carry their grief so that the traumatic nature of the loss does not permanently shadow their lives.

The PIMS nursery fire is a national wound. It forces us to confront the fragility of our institutions, the depth of our collective helplessness and the painful truth that human life is often treated as negotiable. Fourteen lives were cut short. Their families will carry this weight long after the headlines change. Healing does not mean forgetting. It means helping a broken heart learn how to keep beating alongside the memory of the life that could not be saved.

Dr Akhtar Ali Syed is a principal clinical psychologist in the Republic of Ireland. He can be reached at [email protected].

Dr Uzma Masroor is a consultant clinical psychologist and dean of professional psychology at Bahria University. She can be reached at [email protected].