This story is from November 19, 2008

In the shadow of death

The foul smell of suicide is in the air. Caught in the grip of turbulent markets, educated middle-class executives, habituated to the good life and all its trappings, find themselves, quite literally, at the end of the rope.
In the shadow of death
NEW DELHI: The foul smell of suicide is in the air. Caught in the grip of turbulent markets, educated middle-class executives, habituated to the good life and all its trappings, find themselves, quite literally, at the end of the rope.
The latest victim of an erratic stock market is Rajendra Gupta, a businessman from Helimandi in Haryana, who hung himself on Novemner 16, because he had lost over Rs 80 lakhs in shares.
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In a similar trajectory of fate, Vikram Bhadwal, a Gurgaon-based senior executive jumped off his 11th floor apartment's bathroom window on 18th October, broken by the fact that US supermarket Macy's had turned down a consignment from his export firm. A resident of upmarket Ridgewood Estate, he has left behind a bewildered wife and 8-year-old daughter.
While the tragic details of each suicide may be different, the desperate circumstances that lead to it are usually the same. As recently as Sunday, October 26, a 45-year-old businessman, Ashish Pal Khetri, shot himself with a country-made pistol. Predictably, it was plummeting stocks that led to the final, conclusive shot he fired at his temple.
According to the latest WHO estimates, India, with a suicide rate of 98 per 100,000 people annually, is second only to China, with a morbid rate of 99 per 100,000 people. While 89,000 persons in India committed suicide in 1995, the number increased to 96,000 in 1997 and to 1,04,000 in 1998. The health ministry estimates states that 1.2 lakh people commit suicide every year, in the country.
The WHO report also mentions the fact that 37.8% suicides in India are by those below the age of 30 years. Over 71% suicides are committed by persons below 44 years of age. A morbid fact reflected in the recent spate of deaths.
Professor Manju Mehta, who teaches clinical psychology at AIIMS, is convinced that social stereotyping the man in the family is the one who rolls up his sleeves and steps out of the house for an honest day's work is so deeply entrenched, that a sudden change of fortune leads him to believe that he has let his family down and does not deserve to live. Recalling the tragic exodus of a family of four in Borivali, Mumbai, in which an elderly Nair couple were smothered to death by their son and daughter (both engineers by profession) before they hung themselves from ceiling fans in a bid to escape their financial troubles, she says, "Sometimes, an exaggerated sense of responsibility leads the breadwinner to believe that since he is responsible for the family's downfall, he has the right to decide that they must die.'' Professor Mehta, who is currently counselling two senior executives who have recently lost their jobs, explains how men equate the loss of a job with a complete loss of self esteem: "Men clam up; they can't face-up to the fact that they can no longer afford a chauffeur-driven car or a vacation abroad. And of utmost importance is the fall in social stature what will people say?'' Plagued by the need to keep up appearances, they live in the delusion that all is well until the creditors coming knocking on the door.

Dr Neeru Kanwar, a psychotherapist in private practice, recalls a property broker who attempted suicide in his office after it had closed for the day, but was saved by an employee who returned to pick up a photocopy, and saw him standing on a pile of boxes. "It was horrifying for the family to find out that he had tried to kill himself his wife called me in a state of shock. She had no idea he had borrowed heavily from the market and people were threatening him,'' says Dr Kanwar. The broker, who had given up a well-paying sales job to start his own firm, had reached out to a friend a few days before he attempted suicide, "but in a vague way''. According to his therapist, "Most people attempting suicide have a desire to live on, and that is critical to our counselling. They reach out to close friends and relatives, but their cries for help are often written off as mood swings, attributed to a rough day at work or a tiff with the wife.'' Elaborating upon the role of the family, she believes that a supportive, non-judgmental environment at home goes a long way in preventing suicides: "A bank of people who know what's going on and can reach out to a friend in a tight spot will definitely avert a tragedy.''
Counsellors warn that a sudden change in mood from agitated to a misleading calm can be a symptom that a person has made the crucial decision of ending his life and is no longer perturbed by trying circumstances. Anandita Paul, who runs the crisis intervention centre at Sanjeevani, says, "It's important to watch out for a sudden spree of meeting friends, making up with siblings one may have fought with in the past, or a decision to give away a cherished possession.'' An attempted suicide then, is a cry for help by someone who doesn't really want to die. Says Anandita, "They may have given up on life, but we mustn't give up on them.''
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