Karachi got hit hard, and it got hit right where it hurts: not just the streets and homes, but its future doctors. From August 19 to 21, 2025, Karachi was battered by monsoon rains that felt biblical in scale. The NDMA had warned of torrential rains across southern Sindh, including Karachi, and guess what? Karachi’s rickety infrastructure seemed to come apart at the seams. Infrastructure was overwhelmed, power grids went dark, mobile networks died, roads turned into rivers, and people lost their lives. Ten or more were killed in Karachi alone.
For the city’s residents, this was not the first time they faced such devastation, but for many students of Dow University of Health Sciences, this year’s downpour revealed something far worse than the storm itself: the complete failure of an institution tasked with safeguarding future doctors and the patients they serve with a sense of being, left to fend for themselves in the middle of a crisis.
In 2022, during a similar flooding event, Dow University took measures that, although imperfect, demonstrated a sense of responsibility. Students were allowed access to safe indoor areas, temporary accommodations were arranged, and communication was maintained. The institution’s medical and academic obligations were balanced with at least a minimal effort to protect its community.
This year, however, the story unfolded very differently. Despite repeated weather advisories warning of heavy rainfall and urban flooding, classes and clinical rotations were not suspended. By 3 P.M., libraries, canteens, and lecture halls were shut down, leaving hundreds of students stranded in knee-deep water with no designated safe space to seek shelter.
Hostels themselves were found to be leaking, unsafe, and inadequate to house displaced students. Many were forced to wade through flooded streets late into the night, some without transportation, some without any way of contacting their families. The breakdown of communication and lack of emergency planning left parents desperately waiting for word of their children’s safety.
The contrast with this year’s handling of the crisis has not gone unnoticed.
The disappointment feels even greater because of what Dow represents. It is more than a university; it is also a major hospital. During citywide emergencies, it should offer safety and support to both patients and its own community. Yet, students say there was no emergency plan, no clear communication, and no effort to work with city officials to help those who needed safe passage.
The consequences were deeply human. Some students, particularly women, reported feeling unsafe while being asked to leave the campus after dark. Others described the fear of walking through flooded roads with no transport available. One father, attempting to reach his daughter, tragically lost his life during the ordeal. His death has become a painful symbol of what can happen when institutions fail to rise to their responsibilities.
The real issue goes beyond a single night of rain. Karachi’s monsoon happens every year and is not a surprise. Institutions that are both hospitals and universities need to be ready for it. Dow has a special responsibility, not just to care for patients, but also to train future doctors. Leaving students unsupported during a crisis sends the wrong message about how much human life is valued and the duty to protect it.
The way forward lies not in blame but in reform. By embracing preparedness and placing human life at the center of its decisions, Dow University can turn this painful episode into a catalyst for long-overdue change. In doing so, it will not only protect its students but also honor its role as a hospital, a university, and a guardian of Karachi’s health and future. Will it remain unprepared when the next storm strikes, or will it take clear, immediate steps to protect all those who depend on it? The time to act is now. Dow’s response will define its legacy.
