India Mourns as 14 Children Fall Victim to Toxic Cough Syrup

NEW DELHI – In Parasia’s quiet mining lanes, grief sits heavy. What looked like routine visits for stubborn coughs has turned into a national crisis. At least 14 children under five have died after taking Coldrif Cough Syrup, an over-the-counter cough medicine found to contain toxic diethylene glycol, or DEG. The deaths have triggered outrage, fresh questions over drug safety, and a police investigation for manslaughter.

The cluster of cases emerged over the past month across Chhindwara district, where 13 children died, with one more death in neighbouring Betul. Many of the children had typical dry coughs linked to seasonal infections, allergies, or postnasal drip. Local clinicians prescribed Coldrif, a dry cough suppressant often used for children.

Dry cough syrups, which may include dextromethorphan, quiet the cough reflex and are different from wet cough mixtures. Expectorants, which often contain guaifenesin, help clear mucus when there is chest congestion. Those distinctions are meant to guide safe use in infants and toddlers, yet here the remedy became the cause of tragedy.

Parents describe the same pattern. A mild cough, followed by the syrup, then a sharp decline. Mohammed Amin Khan, a 32-year-old miner, says his five-year-old son Adnan came home with a dry cough after school. A doctor prescribed Coldrif, two teaspoons a day, and reassured him it was a simple cold.

Within two days, Adnan began vomiting, stopped passing urine, and showed signs of acute kidney failure. He was rushed to Nagpur, 150 kilometres away, where he died on 28 September. Khan clutched a worn photo of his son and said they trusted a bottle labelled for children, and never imagined it could be lethal.

Children Hospitalized Over Cough Syrup

The toll across Parasia’s sub-division is stark. Eleven children died in Parasia, two more in Chhindwara city, and another in Chaurai tehsil. In Rajasthan, three deaths in Sikar and Bharatpur are under review for links to the same product, reportedly supplied through the state’s free medicine scheme.

At least 16 other children remain in hospital, some on dialysis in Nagpur’s stretched facilities. Families keep vigil outside the local health centre, holding placards that read, Justice for Our Angels, and Ban the Poison Peddlers.

Lab tests delivered the confirmation everyone feared. Samples of Coldrif Syrup, batch SR-13, manufactured in May 2025 by Sresan Pharmaceutical in Kancheepuram, Tamil Nadu, contained 48.6% DEG. The World Health Organization sets the safe limit at 0.1%. DEG is a sweet-tasting industrial solvent used in antifreeze, brake fluid, and paint.

It is sometimes used as a cheap substitute for pharmaceutical-grade propylene glycol, a safe solvent that gives syrups their consistency. Inside the body, DEG breaks down into toxic compounds that attack the kidneys. It causes severe abdominal pain, seizures, and rapid organ failure, particularly in young children.

Tamil Nadu’s Drugs Control Department halted production and issued a public alert on 3 October after its Government Drugs Testing Laboratory detected the contamination. Tests in Madhya Pradesh confirmed the result at 46.28% DEG.

This disaster sits in a long, painful line. The 2025 case recalls the 2019 Jammu and Kashmir incident, where 12 children died from DEG-tainted cough syrups, and the 2022 Gambia tragedy that killed more than 70 children using Indian-made products.

Since 2022, DEG and ethylene glycol have been linked to at least 141 child deaths in Gambia, Uzbekistan, and Cameroon. India’s reputation as the pharmacy of the world has taken repeated hits. Exported syrups now face compulsory DEG testing, yet many domestic products do not, revealing a stark gap in oversight.

Public Anger Mounts

Public anger has now become action. On 5 October, Madhya Pradesh Police arrested Dr Praveen Soni of Chhindwara, who had prescribed Coldrif to many of the victims. He has been charged with negligence under Section 105 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, culpable homicide not amounting to murder, and Section 276 for drug adulteration.

An FIR also names Sresan Pharmaceutical and its officials, who face potential life sentences under the Drugs and Cosmetics Act. Superintendent of Police Ajay Pandey has called it a clear case of manslaughter. A 12-member Special Investigation Team, led by Parasia SDPO Jitendra Singh Jat, is heading to Tamil Nadu to search the plant and secure records.

Three drug inspectors and a deputy director in Madhya Pradesh’s Food and Drug Administration have been suspended, and the state drug controller has been transferred over claims of weak enforcement.

Facing mounting pressure, Chief Minister Mohan Yadav met grieving families on 6 October. He announced ₹5 lakh compensation per child, a statewide ban on Coldrif and related Sresan products, and promised strict action. Tamil Nadu and Kerala also announced bans, and Telangana issued alerts.

The Union Health Ministry called an emergency meeting and ordered risk-based inspections at 19 drug units in six states, including makers of syrups and antibiotics. New guidance urges careful use of cough syrups in children. None for under-twos, and caution for those under five.

India’s Drug Licensing System

Doctors are being reminded that most coughs clear on their own. Hydration, honey for older children, and steam inhalation are often enough, said Dr Rajiv Bahl, Director General of the Indian Council of Medical Research.

On the streets of Parasia, tension is palpable. Protesters gathered outside Dr Soni’s clinic, threw stones, and chanted slogans. The local Indian Medical Association unit condemned the arrest, threatened to strike, and said doctors prescribe based on what is available.

They argue the blame lies with the manufacturer and the supply chain. Bereaved families reject that argument and say their children were failed at every step. Hashtags like #JusticeForChhindwaraKids trend across social media, with loud calls for an overhaul of India’s drug licensing system.

Experts point to money-saving shortcuts and weak supply checks. Industrial-grade solvents can be 30 to 50% cheaper than pharmaceutical-grade, and they slip into production when testing is lax. A Reuters investigation in 2023 reported that nine out of ten inspected Indian factories breached quality rules.

Public health analyst Dr Meera Sharma calls it systemic negligence. India produces a fifth of the world’s generic medicines, yet domestic regulation trails behind export controls by years.

Behind the policy meetings and legal documents, the loss is intimate and raw. In Parasia’s dim courtyards, families light candles, share food with neighbours, and hang on to memories. Adnan’s father kneels by a small shrine in their one-room home, whispering a prayer for every child still fighting in the hospital.

Empty syrup bottles sit on windowsills and bedside tables, a stark reminder of trust broken. The investigation may reshape an industry worth 50 billion dollars, and it may expose long-ignored cracks in the system. For those who have buried their children, change cannot come soon enough.

The coming weeks will test the will of regulators, state governments, and drug makers. Police are set to interrogate company officials, seize raw material logs, and track solvent suppliers. Health teams will audit pharmacies and clinics for the stock of the recalled batch.

Hospitals in Nagpur and Chhindwara brace for more cases, as doctors watch kidney function markers and adjust dialysis schedules.

In Rajasthan, officials review purchasing under the free medicine scheme and are tracing Coldrif consignments across Sikar and Bharatpur. Civil society groups urge a national registry for pediatric adverse drug events and random testing of all pediatric syrups sold in India.

Pharmacists are advising parents to hold any bottle of Coldrif Cough Syrup, batch SR-13, and to inform authorities immediately. Hotlines have been set up in Madhya Pradesh and Tamil Nadu for reports of suspected cases.

There are hard lessons in every corner of this story. Substituting industrial solvents for pharmaceutical-grade ones kills. Checks that work for exports but not for home markets put Indian children at risk. Doctors need reliable supply chains, clear guidance, and accountability that does not scapegoat them alone.

Families need transparency and swift recalls when risks emerge. Regulators need testing capacity and real-time data across states. Manufacturers need to know that cutting corners will cost them their licences, their freedom, and their reputation.

For now, Parasia waits. Sirens still echo on the highway to Nagpur. Doorways hold pairs of tiny shoes that will never be worn again. The state promises justice, the centre promises reform, and the police promise arrests. The bottles remain, lined up like small headstones, a bitter symbol of how medicine meant to heal turned into poison.