July 25, 2025
DHAKA – On July 21, what was supposed to be just another Monday morning became a living nightmare for hundreds of families and especially for the students of Milestone College.
A Bangladesh Air Force training jet ploughed into their campus, killing 34 people and leaving 13 others, mostly children clinging to life in intensive care units.
But even as the smoke cleared and emergency teams rushed in, one thing became painfully clear: the damage went far beyond the physical.
The bodies will be buried. The debris will be cleared. But what about the children who survived?
The crash didn’t just hit a school, it tore through childhoods, shattered friendships, and left an entire school traumatised.
The jet had struck a third grade classroom, some of them only eight or nine years old. Some of those children are now gone. Others may never truly return, not to who they were before that morning.
Eighth-grader Abdullah Al Fahad recalled the moment with heartbreaking clarity.
He and his friends had just noticed the plane circling overhead after lunch. Seconds later, two of those friends were gone.
“We had just seen the plane. Moments later, it killed my friends. I only made it back to my parents by the mercy of the almighty,” he said.
In the hours that followed, images and videos circulated across social media — raw, graphic and devastating.
A child with burns hobbled across the school field. Partially charred backpacks lay strewn across a courtyard.
Students in uniform sobbed through the chaos. While many watched in shock, these weren’t mere visuals for the children of Milestone. They were living memories, replayed endlessly on screens, making escape impossible.
This is where another layer of the tragedy emerged. Media coverage, though essential in times of crisis, often teeters on exploitation. Broadcasting graphic footage of injured children, repeatedly airing scenes of panic, and chasing grieving parents for soundbites may feed a cycle of sensationalism — but at what cost?
For the survivors, and for grieving parents, this kind of reporting does not just document trauma, it deepens it. Journalists have a responsibility to choose humanity over hype, especially when the most vulnerable are watching.
The emotional toll on these children is immense. Trauma from such experiences rarely surfaces all at once. Some may have nightmares or develop fears about returning to school. Others might withdraw or lash out.
Without immediate and sustained psychological support, the risks of long-term conditions such as PTSD, anxiety, and depression are high. Resuming classes won’t be enough; these young survivors need emotional care that lasts — not just for weeks, but potentially for years.
As if the tragedy itself weren’t enough, misinformation spread online within minutes of the crash. False death tolls, misidentified victims, and unverified graphic content flooded social media, triggering panic and confusion.
Parents frantically searched for truth while being bombarded by digital chaos. For survivors, seeing their classmates misrepresented or exploited deepened their anguish. For bereaved families, it was inhumane.
True recovery from such devastation requires more than condolence. It calls for collective responsibility. Media outlets must report with care. Social media users must pause before posting. Authorities must prioritise trauma counselling alongside medical aid.
And schools must become safe spaces again — both structurally and emotionally.
Above all, the children must be heard. Grief doesn’t follow a timetable. Some will want to speak, others won’t. Both responses are valid. What matters most is that they know they are supported, that they are not alone.
Teachers, parents, neighbours, policymakers — everyone has a role to play in helping these children rebuild their lives. The scars from that day may never fully fade, and some will bear that burden forever.
For now, though, we must acknowledge the depth of their pain. We must resist the urge to rush the healing. We must stay present.
Because for the students of Milestone, the journey to recovery is only beginning.