By Dr. Abdul Sattar
Yesterday’s horrific fire at the Pakistan Institute of Medical Sciences (PIMS) in Islamabad left the nation devastated. At least fourteen newborn babies lost their lives in a place where they had been brought into the world with hope, and where their parents expected them to be protected. Instead, a hospital nursery became a death trap.
Initial reports indicate that the fire was linked to an air-conditioning unit, while serious questions have also been raised about emergency exits, fire safety arrangements, and preparedness. Investigations have been ordered, but for fourteen families, no investigation can bring back their children.
This is not merely an accident. It is a question that should shake the conscience of the entire nation.
Why do such tragedies keep happening?
And why do we so often hear of them in institutions meant for ordinary citizens — the poor, the powerless, and those who have nowhere else to go?
A CHILD IS A CHILD
The child of a labourer, government servant, or college lecturer has the same right to safety as the child of a minister. Any newborn deserves the same protection as the newborn of a politician, a general, a bureaucrat, or a wealthy businessman.
No child should ever die because a building was unsafe. No mother should ever hear that the hospital where she placed her newborn was not prepared for fire. No father should ever leave a nursery and return to collect a coffin.
Yet we must confront a painful reality.
Those who make decisions about public hospitals do not depend on them. Politicians, senior bureaucrats, and the privileged have access to private hospitals. And if they do have to go to government hospitals, 100 safety checks are carried out before their arrival. When public institutions fail, they have the alternative of seeking treatment abroad at government expense.
But what about the ordinary citizen?
Where should a junior government official or a daily-wage worker take his sick child? Where should a mother from a modest family go when her newborn needs intensive care?
For millions of Pakistanis, a government hospital is not a choice. It is the ONLY choice.
That is why the condition of public hospitals must be a matter of national honour. The vast majority do not deserve second-class safety. Their lives are not cheaper. Their children are not less precious.
WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF THE WORLD?
Do such tragedies not happen elsewhere?
Very rarely. Although hospitals everywhere have nurseries and ICUs with the same risks, the difference lies in the response. In functional states, if any mishap occurs, the government owns the failure immediately. Independent investigations are launched, officials are held accountable, laws are tightened, and compensation is paid. The system learns.
Here, we form committees, express sorrow, and wait for the nation to forget. That is the difference between a state that values every life, and a state that treats the poor as statistics.
A QUESTION FOR THOSE IN POWER
Answer this honestly: If your own child were admitted to this ward, would you accept locked emergency exits? Faulty fire alarms? An uninspected electrical system? Untrained staff?
If the answer is no, then why should the children of ordinary Pakistanis accept these risks?
Public office is not a privilege. It is an AMANAT — a sacred trust.
A ruler cannot think only of his own family. In a moral sense, the children of the nation are also his children. The government is entrusted with the lives of its citizens.
When fourteen newborns die, the question is not just “who started the fire?”
The real questions are: How many warnings were ignored? How many inspections were delayed? How many reports were filed and forgotten? And how many days until we forget?
WHAT MUST BE DONE
Pakistan does not need another inquiry committee. It needs:
Independent audits of fire and electrical safety in every government hospital.
Accessible exits and functional alarms, extinguishers, and suppression systems.
Mandatory emergency training for all staff.
Real safety certificates that mean protection, not paperwork.
And finally, strict accountability — not temporary suspensions followed by reinstatement with full benefits, but the public naming of those held responsible, not scapegoats fired on behalf of others.
FOR TOO LONG OUR PATTERN HAS BEEN: TRAGEDY, COMMITTEE, PROMISES, SORROW, AND SILENCE.
But mothers do not forget. Fathers do not forget an empty cradle. And those fourteen babies cannot speak for themselves. We must speak for them.
A government is judged not by the comfort it provides to the powerful, but by the protection it provides to the powerless.
Are the children of Pakistan truly equal in the eyes of the state? They must be.
Yesterday, fourteen tiny lives were lost.
Tomorrow, God forbid, another tragedy will follow unless we learn today. The greatest tribute to these children is not another condolence message.
It is to ensure that no parent ever again fears that the place meant to save a child’s life will become the place where that life ends.
