Many in the city only learned about the true condition of Hyderabad’s largest mental health institution only after the evening of 3 June – when the death of a 30-year-old man named Karan broke through the walls of silence.
Published Jun 05, 2025 | 7:00 AM ⚊ Updated Jun 11, 2025 | 9:12 AM
Synopsis: A food poisoning incident at Hyderabad’s Institute of Mental Health on 2 June left one patient dead and over 90 others ill, exposing severe neglect, institutional decay, and systemic abandonment. The facility – meant to serve as a transitional home for recovered psychiatric patients – has instead become a place where patients, fit for discharge, languish for months or even years due to absent families and state inaction.
The building stands quietly under the harsh summer sun, its faded pink walls peeling at the edges, bearing the weight of time and neglect.
Above the entrance, barely visible beneath layers of grime and weathering, the words “Male Ward” are stencilled in fading blue.
It is the Discharge Ward of the Institute of Mental Health, Erragadda, in Hyderabad, Telangana.
A modest signboard affixed to one of the entrance pillars informs visitors of the building’s purpose.
It is a government-run facility – under the aegis of the state’s mental health services – intended as a halfway home for men recovering from psychiatric illness, and waiting for family members to pick them up from this centre, out of this building.
The same board also mentions ‘Sayodhya Home for Women in Need’, suggesting administrative overlap or shared management.
The entrance opens into a dim veranda, held up by two decaying columns. A couple of plastic potted plants offer a token nod to cheerfulness.
The discharge ward Mental Hospital in Hyderabad. (Sumit Jha/South First)
Inside, past a metal gate, a few men in pale cottons linger – some chatting softly, others standing in silence.
One clutches a bag and speaks on a mobile phone, as preparations are underway for the arrival of Telangana Health Minister Damodar Rajanarsimha.
Cracks crawl across the ceiling; black mould and peeling paint scar the walls, lit only by the faint daylight seeping through the entrance. Despite its stated mission, the place feels more like a forgotten outpost than a centre of rehabilitation.
The Health Minister arrived at the ward around 11 am on Wednesday, 4 June.
His visit was prompted by the recent incident in which several patients fell ill after consuming food served on Telangana Formation Day – a day meant for celebration, now shadowed by sickness and concern.
As the minister made his way through the facility, iron doors appeared at every turn.
When he and the officials reached the ward housing 107 patients, loud, disoriented voices echoed through the hallway. The patients – many wearing similarly colour-coded clothing – called out in confusion and agitation.
The minister entered two wards, asking how many patients were housed there and what the ward was officially called.
Health Minister Damodar Rajanarsimha at Hospital on June 4 (supplied)
After receiving a response from the Director of Medical Education (DME), he turned around and walked back out. Meanwhile, the unsettled voices of the patients continued to resonate through the halls.
Just five minutes later, the minister was seated outside the building in the open air, pen in hand, questioning the officials about every detail of the incident.
He took notes diligently. And then came the question that cut through the bureaucracy: “Why didn’t you inform me about the condition of this hospital?”
It wasn’t just ministers. It wasn’t just officials. Many in the city learned about the true condition of Hyderabad’s largest mental health institution only after the evening of 3 June – when the death of a 30-year-old man named Karan broke through the walls of silence.
Karan had been invisible to the world for a long time – not just forgotten by society, but seemingly by his own family.
He hadn’t arrived at the Institute of Mental Health in Erragadda by choice. He was referred there by a court, a destitute man sent by the Magistrate of Bhupalapally on 25 August 2023.
He was diagnosed with intellectual disability and behavioural challenges. But Karan responded to care. He improved. By mid-November, he was deemed fit for discharge. The treatment had done its job.
But there was no one to take him back.
The institution waited. They called the police. They reminded them – again and again. But no one came. Not the family that once knew him.
Not the system that committed him. He remained there, not as a patient in need of medical intervention, but as a man caught in limbo. Recovered on paper. Forgotten in practice.
Then, in the early hours of 3 June, the silence of waiting turned fatal.
At 5.30 am, Karan was found unresponsive in his bed. The ward staff rushed in. Doctors followed. Resuscitation was attempted. But it was too late. Karan had died. The hospital states the cause: cardiopulmonary arrest. Quiet. Sudden. Alone.
In the preceding days, he had a cough. A slight fever. Nothing alarming. No reports of gastrointestinal symptoms. No signs of distress that could predict his end. At least, that’s what the hospital says.
But that same morning, a very different story was also unfolding inside the same institution. The silence of recovery had already been broken.
Thirty-five psychiatric inpatients reported dysentery – an unmistakable sign of food poisoning.
The hospital says they responded immediately: patients were examined, hydrated, stabilised. Electrolytes given. Antibiotics administered. No severe complications, no panic, no fatalities – officially, they insist.
But by the evening of 3 June, it became harder to separate the official version from the visible reality. Because Karan was gone.
And as reporters, ministers, and the public began to ask questions, the cracks in the institution – literal and systemic – came into view.
During the Telangana Health Minister’s visit, the male discharge ward housed 107 patients.
“This is called the Discharge Ward because these are patients who have completed their treatment. They’ve been declared fit by doctors. But since no one – no family member – comes to take them back, they remain here as per protocol. We cannot discharge them without proper support,” a doctor told South First.
But the patients here don’t stay for just a few days.
“Just like Karan, who had been here for nearly two years, there are others who’ve been staying for months – even up to 20 years – because their families never returned to collect them,” the same doctor added. A similar ward exists for women as well.
A patient being taken outside the discharge ward in chains. (Sumit Jha)
Another doctor explained, “Most of the patients here are destitute. They don’t even know where they’ve come from. If we do manage to trace their families, we reach out. Sometimes the police visit the family too. But many families still refuse to take them back.”
She pointed to both social and economic reasons behind this abandonment.
“Most patients are from low-income backgrounds. For many families, caring for a person with mental illness is seen as a burden – both financially and emotionally. Some fear the patient may cause disruptions at home. So, they choose to leave them here.”
Still, there are rare rays of hope. A few NGOs step in and offer to care for these patients at their own centres, the doctor noted.
But the problem doesn’t end there.
“It’s not just about the patients already here. When new patients arrive – especially in the non-DC wards – and need to be shifted to the discharge ward, it becomes a challenge. Often, there’s simply no space left.”
It was 2 June – Telangana Formation Day. At the Institute of Mental Health in Erragadda, celebrations were modest, and food was served as usual from the kitchen managed by diet contractor G Jaipal Reddy.
“It was the same food we provide every day,” a third doctor told South First. “The only addition was sweet pongal, made with jaggery, given to the patients as part of the special occasion.”
But as the night unfolded, things took a troubling turn.
Patients began experiencing symptoms of gastrointestinal distress – initially loose motions. “Most of them didn’t report anything to the staff at first. They quietly went to the washroom. A patient care worker typically attends to five to seven patients, and there were no early complaints,” the doctor said.
Food chart of the hospital
However, by late night, some patients started reporting abdominal cramps. And by morning, one patient – Karan, a long-time resident of the hospital – was found unresponsive and declared dead. “We still don’t know if his death was linked to food poisoning,” the doctor added cautiously. “Meanwhile, a few others began vomiting as well.”
Initially, all affected patients were treated within the hospital. But as the condition of several individuals worsened, the administration decided to transfer them to Osmania General Hospital.
“This is a mental healthcare institution,” the doctor explained. “We are equipped for psychiatric care, but we wanted to ensure these patients got the best possible medical attention. So, those who needed more support were shifted.”
In total, 35 patients were transferred to Osmania. As of now, 18 remain admitted.
While the incident was initially underplayed, things began to change after the Health Minister’s visit on 4 June. His presence triggered a more transparent response from the hospital administration, and full details of the incident began to emerge.
What was meant to be a day of celebration ended in scrutiny, with serious questions raised about hygiene, response time, and institutional accountability – especially in facilities that house the most voiceless and vulnerable.
Following the food poisoning incident at the Institute of Mental Health in Erragadda on 2 June – Telangana Formation Day – state authorities have stepped in with damage control measures, accountability efforts, and cautious statements.
After a review meeting, Telangana Health Minister Damodar Rajanarsimha addressed the media.
“Around 6:30 p.m. on 2 June, we received information about a possible food poisoning incident. About 92 patients were affected. We are yet to determine whether it was due to food or water contamination, as lab reports are still pending,” he said.
“However, we suspect food poisoning, especially since an additional sweet dish – sweet pongal – was served on the occasion. Unfortunately, one mentally ill patient named Karnan (32) passed away at Osmania General Hospital. Based on that, a detailed inquiry is underway,” the minister said.
He added that 18 patients are still admitted at Osmania General Hospital, while the remaining 74 are being treated within the facility under the care of special medical teams. “All are stable. We are awaiting the forensic report, and once it arrives, strict action will be taken against those responsible.”
The Director of Medical Education has recommended termination of the diet contractor, and a formal complaint has been registered with Borabanda Police Station.
“We will ensure that such incidents are not repeated. Once the report confirms the cause, the government will take strict legal and administrative action against those found negligent,” the minister said.
The hospital superintendent, in her termination order to the contractor, explicitly cited the possibility that the deceased patient died due to acute gastroenteritis caused by food poisoning.
“In view of the occurrence of acute gastroenteritis at the Institute of Mental Health on 2 June 2025, which resulted in the death of one patient and illness of 92 others – of which 18 required transfer to Osmania General Hospital – the incident is deemed catastrophic. This reflects gross negligence and a severe breach of contract by diet contractor G Jaipal Reddy. Hence, diet services are terminated with immediate effect,” the superintendent’s order reads.
In response, Jaipal Reddy has denied all charges. “I’ve been providing food here for three years with no complaints. Even our own workers ate the same food that day – and none of them fell sick. I believe the issue came from the water, not the food,” he said.
In a related move, the government also relieved the Resident Medical Officer (RMO), Dr D Padmaja, of her duties.
“In view of the circumstances reported by the Director of Medical Education, the government hereby relieves Dr D Padmaja, Deputy Civil Surgeon RMO, from her duties as In-charge Civil Surgeon RMO at the Institute of Mental Health, with immediate effect. She is directed to report to the Director of Public Health & Family Welfare,” reads the official order from the Health Secretary.
The Institute of Mental Health, one of the largest government-run psychiatric facilities in Telangana, has long served as a last resort for the destitute and mentally ill with nowhere else to go. But the tragic events of 2 June exposed deep cracks not just in its infrastructure but in its accountability systems.
In a moment that spoke volumes, the health minister himself could not remain in the hospital corridors for more than five minutes during his visit. The overwhelming stench, institutional decay, and noise echoed the neglect that had long remained unseen.
For many poor and abandoned patients, this facility remains their only home. But after this incident, even that fragile sense of safety now hangs in doubt.
