by Manish Anand
Delhi is unfortunately threatening to earn the sobriquet of a "suicide Capital" in place of the tag of much maligned rape Capital. Print is just full of reports about too many suicides committed in different parts of the city. Disheartening at the most, but ironically sociologists are yet to take notice of the alarming trend. Probably they must feel alarmed and institute a study to probe what's going wrong in the city of hearts.
I always feel horrified about the incidents of suicide. I had the most horrible time listening to the story of a suicide told to me by one of my friend from Kerala, which is infamous for reporting the largest number of suicides by any state in India.
"A friend of mine just gave up after being condemned to the cruelty of poverty," my friend began telling me the story with me staring him with my skin going cold. "He just threw himself against a train running at full speed, and his body was found in the worst possible condition," he said. And, why did he do so, I asked meekely. "He had no father, no income, and no other means to support his four unwed sisters. For some time he became reclusive, would not speak to anyone. Just for being in an hopeless conditions he gave up," said my friend. He rounded off the discussion with the sad truth that too many youth in Kerala were committing suicide.
The most terrific moments that I recollect is from my childhood. Just seven-year-old, I remeber the chilly month of December damped by continued rains at that moment. A 12-year-old girl had gone with her younger brother to a dam where women used to celebrate "Chath" festival just one day before the festival. On the way, the boy was asked to go back home, which he did most obediently. The next day the swollen body of the girl was found on the bank of the dam with her shoes on in the beautiful frock, which, however, was bloated.
Later on I overheard that her father always wanted her to come first in her class, but that time she unfortubately had come second, and she was subjected to the most cruel treatment that he father could have given. However, grown people added at that time that the girl was always beaten up with her mother watching her helplesseley. That suicide had something to do with her misfortune at home, elders concluded.
I too had a close encounter with the dreaded suicidal tendencies. One afternoon, driven mad with hackling of all around me on my knack of all round failure in competitive examinations, I had taken a long march of more than five kilometer to take a jump in the riven Ganges in my hometown. However, at the most crucial moment I started thinking about the consequences of my act, and the thought dawned on me that my parents will have to live under a permanent shame because of me, and I took a retreat.
However, the first place where I went was my friend's home whom I told about my aborted move. And, my friend, though alrmed, shared my agony, empathising with his own experiences, which were similar to mine, said: "Look, we all have to go to God one day. What's the hurry in this wwhen it's a certainty. let's take our time and endure whatever comes our ways." These were words permanently etched in my mind, and despite seeing more worst times in life, I contune to live.
Social collapse no doubt is leading to suicidal spates. Anonymity of lives in lage cities with belief setting in that there is no one to care for you may be another reason. The reasons may be numerous, but social compassion is the most missing link in today's society, that must be noted earnestly.
Delhi is unfortunately threatening to earn the sobriquet of a "suicide Capital" in place of the tag of much maligned rape Capital. Print is just full of reports about too many suicides committed in different parts of the city. Disheartening at the most, but ironically sociologists are yet to take notice of the alarming trend. Probably they must feel alarmed and institute a study to probe what's going wrong in the city of hearts.
I always feel horrified about the incidents of suicide. I had the most horrible time listening to the story of a suicide told to me by one of my friend from Kerala, which is infamous for reporting the largest number of suicides by any state in India.
"A friend of mine just gave up after being condemned to the cruelty of poverty," my friend began telling me the story with me staring him with my skin going cold. "He just threw himself against a train running at full speed, and his body was found in the worst possible condition," he said. And, why did he do so, I asked meekely. "He had no father, no income, and no other means to support his four unwed sisters. For some time he became reclusive, would not speak to anyone. Just for being in an hopeless conditions he gave up," said my friend. He rounded off the discussion with the sad truth that too many youth in Kerala were committing suicide.
The most terrific moments that I recollect is from my childhood. Just seven-year-old, I remeber the chilly month of December damped by continued rains at that moment. A 12-year-old girl had gone with her younger brother to a dam where women used to celebrate "Chath" festival just one day before the festival. On the way, the boy was asked to go back home, which he did most obediently. The next day the swollen body of the girl was found on the bank of the dam with her shoes on in the beautiful frock, which, however, was bloated.
Later on I overheard that her father always wanted her to come first in her class, but that time she unfortubately had come second, and she was subjected to the most cruel treatment that he father could have given. However, grown people added at that time that the girl was always beaten up with her mother watching her helplesseley. That suicide had something to do with her misfortune at home, elders concluded.
I too had a close encounter with the dreaded suicidal tendencies. One afternoon, driven mad with hackling of all around me on my knack of all round failure in competitive examinations, I had taken a long march of more than five kilometer to take a jump in the riven Ganges in my hometown. However, at the most crucial moment I started thinking about the consequences of my act, and the thought dawned on me that my parents will have to live under a permanent shame because of me, and I took a retreat.
However, the first place where I went was my friend's home whom I told about my aborted move. And, my friend, though alrmed, shared my agony, empathising with his own experiences, which were similar to mine, said: "Look, we all have to go to God one day. What's the hurry in this wwhen it's a certainty. let's take our time and endure whatever comes our ways." These were words permanently etched in my mind, and despite seeing more worst times in life, I contune to live.
Social collapse no doubt is leading to suicidal spates. Anonymity of lives in lage cities with belief setting in that there is no one to care for you may be another reason. The reasons may be numerous, but social compassion is the most missing link in today's society, that must be noted earnestly.
1 comment:
u have said it....stress is directly linked to suicides,, Bengalis and Tamils are stress prone for more reasons than one. But I also believe these statistics reflect nothing -- statistics r often lies
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