NEW DELHI: A day after three minor sisters were found dead by suicide in Ghaziabad—reportedly following conflict over cellphone and mounting parental pressure—the question lingered heavily in the air: what happens when a child, or anyone, reaches out for help and dials a helpline?
This newspaper attempted to test the alertness of mental health helplines meant to respond to precisely such moments of crisis—when distress turns urgent, and despair needs an immediate human voice.
On the other end was a mental health helpline number listed on Google, one of several that promise support for people battling anxiety, depression or thoughts of self-harm in Delhi and NCR. For someone in emotional freefall, this moment—dialling a number, waiting for it to connect—can be the thin pause between despair and survival.
On Thursday, to assess accessibility, this newspaper dialled six helpline numbers commonly listed online—Kiran, Tele-MANAS, IHBAS, One Life Organisation, the Vandrevala Foundation and NIMHANS. Of these, only one answered.
“What happened? Please share,” the counsellor at One Life Organisation said gently, without rushing, without judgment.
The others told a far more troubling story. The phone rang. And rang. And rang again.
Tele-MANAS played an automated message assuring a call-back—but none came through. The Kiran helpline was unreachable on four attempts. IHBAS numbers rang endlessly. The Vandrevala Foundation helpline placed the caller on hold for over four minutes on two occasions before disconnecting.
For a person in acute emotional distress, those unanswered minutes can feel endless—and dangerous.
“A suicidal person cannot wait,” said a counsellor working with a Delhi-based helpline, requesting anonymity.
As cases of depression, anxiety and suicide continue to rise, helplines are projected as the first, sometimes only, line of support. Delhi appears well-covered on paper: toll-free numbers, round-the-clock availability, trained counsellors. Yet when tested on the ground, that safety net feels fragile.
Waiting to hear a voice
After the Ghaziabad tragedy, the message is starkly clear: Behind every missed call could be a child, sitting alone, shaking, hoping a voice will answer.