The apartment where I now stay has 35 floors, and the higher balconies afford suicide points. A few years ago, a large and lugubrious family man, who would acknowledge me with a half-smile, jumped to his death in the stairwell of the building. He left behind three children, his wife, and his father. I never got to know why he let go of his life and responsibilities in this painful manner.
Was he taking upon himself all the faults of life? Suicide bets not on reason, but on a sense of inadequacy and a lack of faith in life’s benign forces. In short, we choose to die not because we are fed up, but because we want to live better.
If you stare at the road below, you must work on yourself not to give way to gravity’s terminal call. If you are a man, the chances are that you stand to end your life more than a woman who may be toying with the idea. Contrary to given wisdom, in the much-maligned patriarchal society, we must face up to more patriarchs dying than women, their victims. Behind the stark numbers lies a web of social pressures, economic burdens, and cultural expectations shaping India’s suicide epidemic. In 2022, the nation recorded 1,71,000 suicides, with significantly more number of men dying by suicide than women. This gender disparity, consistent across urban and rural landscapes, demands a closer look.
Suicide is a pressing public health crisis in India, marked by a stark gender divide. According to the 2022 National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) data, 1,22,000 men and 48,000 women died by suicide—a ratio of roughly 2.5:1, with men accounting for 72 percent of all deaths by suicide. The male suicide rate stood at 17.6 per 1,00,000 population, compared to 6.9 for women, against a national average of 12.4.
Men’s rates peak between ages 18 and 45, while women’s are the highest from 18 to 29. Underreporting, driven by stigma and misclassification, likely masks 25-36 percent of cases—particularly among women. Despite these figures, men also often ask for and receive less mental health support, partly due to cultural narratives emphasising women’s vulnerabilities and men’s agency.
Urban India, pulsing with competition and anonymity, reports high numbers. In 2022, Delhi led with 3,367 suicides (up 22 percent from 2021), followed by Bengaluru (2,313), Chennai (1,581), and Mumbai (1,501), accounting for a third of the suicides across 53 major cities. Men make up 70-75 percent of these deaths, as seen in Chandigarh (2021-2024), where 314 of 435 suicide deaths were of men. Urban men grapple with job insecurity, career stagnation and isolation, worsened by weak community ties and alcohol dependence. Professionals in tech hubs like Bengaluru often cite layoffs as triggers. Women face domestic issues like marital discord, but access to education and support networks may lower their rates. Hanging is the dominant method of self-destruction, reflecting private urban spaces. And unspeakable loneliness.
Rural areas face higher per capita suicide rates, rooted in socioeconomic hardship. A Tamil Nadu study estimated rural rates at 92.1 per 1,00,000, far above the national average. In 2022, there were 41,433 male suicides versus 3,752 female among daily wage earners, while farming recorded 5,563 male deaths against 394 female deaths. Agrarian distress—crop failures, debt and absent mental health services—drives male farmer suicides, notably in Maharashtra’s Vidarbha. Rural women, face early marriage and dowry disputes, with poisonings often mislabelled as accidents, skewing data. Pesticide poisoning remains prevalent alongside hanging, tied to easy access to toxins.
The disparity reflects divergent social roles. Men, seen as providers, face massive economic pressures—unemployment in cities, crop failures in villages—compounded by norms discouraging emotional expression. Women, socialised to seek support, battle domestic violence and dowry disputes, particularly in rural areas. Method matters: men favour hanging (urban) or pesticide poisoning (rural), while women’s poisonings are often misclassified. Age amplifies risks—men peak at 18-45 years with breadwinning stress; women at 18-29 face marriage-related strife. Among students, male suicides (53 percent of the total) fell 6 percent from 2021 to 2022, while female cases rose 7 percent, hinting at growing pressures on young women.
Schools and workplaces should ideally integrate mental health education, teaching coping skills early on in life. Community-led initiatives, like village support groups or urban peer networks, can bridge gaps where services are scarce. India’s high global suicide burden underscores the need for a national prevention strategy, aligning with the WHO’s goals to cut suicide rates by a third by 2030.
The epidemic exposes a gendered divide: men bear economic despair, women navigate social traps, and both suffer in silence. Cities pulse with career-driven isolation; villages groan under survival’s weight. Closing this gap requires policies and a cultural shift to value every life equally. The 2022 NCRB and WHO data confirm that India has the highest absolute number of suicides (1,71,000), accounting for 30-36 percent of the global total (7,00,000-9,00,000 annually). Per capita, India’s rate of 12.4 per 1,00,000 is high, but lower than countries like Guyana (40) or Lesotho (30). But this is not cheerful news.
Tackling this crisis demands targeted action. For men, economic relief—debt forgiveness for farmers, urban job programmes—could ease burdens alongside campaigns to normalise seeking mental health support. For women, addressing domestic violence and dowry disputes is urgent, paired with access to improved healthcare. Both men and women need more counsellors, helplines, and stigma-free spaces. And accurate data collection is critical to controlling the crisis’s scope.
(Views are personal)
C P Surendran
Poet, novelist and screenplay writer whose latest novel is One Love and the Many Lives of Osip B
(cpsurendran@gmail.com)