Opinion
‘Non-fenced bridges, broken minds’: Why Kashmir’s suicide crisis needs more than wire
Another woman jumped into the Jhelum near Zero Bridge just days ago. Another family shattered. Another life extinguished before it could find help. And once again, the response is predictable: more fencing, more wires, more physical barriers.
The administration deserves credit for acting. Deputy Commissioner Srinagar recently reviewed fencing plans for Budshah Bridge and Noor Jehan Bridge (Cement Kadal), with Detailed Project Reports already formulated. Several vulnerable bridges including New Zaina Kadal, Aali Kadal, Nawakadal and Safakadal have already been fenced. Officials claim no cases have been reported from fenced bridges in recent months. But this is a dangerous illusion.
The numbers we cannot ignore: Consider the scale of the crisis. Jammu and Kashmir recorded approximately 365 suicide deaths in 2023. In 2022, the UT accounted for about 30 per cent of all suicides in India. What is particularly alarming is that 178 unemployed persons took their own lives in 2023 alone — accounting for 48 per cent of all suicides that year.
Among women, the picture is even more disturbing. Studies reveal a direct relationship between female suicide and domestic violence. Female suicide survivors are often married women aged 20-35 who have faced domestic violence. The National Crime Records Bureau data shows a staggering 121 per cent surge in domestic violence cases registered in Jammu and Kashmir during 2024-25, with 1,979 cases reported in a single year.
Why fencing alone fails: Fencing bridges may temporarily prevent an individual from jumping, but it does nothing to address the underlying psychological anguish that drove them to the edge in the first place. The administration’s focus on physical measures overlooks the complexity of mental health problems, which often result from a combination of personal, social and economic stressors.
By concentrating solely on physical barriers, we risk neglecting the emotional and psychological well-being of individuals, which is the crux of the issue.
The mental health chasm: The ground reality is sobering. According to National Health Mission figures, 11 districts in Jammu and Kashmir have no psychiatrist posted — including Shopian, Bandipora, Kupwara, Jammu, Samba, Kathua, Rajouri, Poonch, Ramban, Kishtwar and Reasi. Across the entire Union Territory, the total number of mental health professionals in all categories stands at just 65. Barely a few dozen psychiatrists serve a population of more than seven million.
This is not a health system. This is a crisis waiting to happen.
The way forward: The Tele MANAS helpline (14416 / 1-800-891-4416) is a commendable initiative, can we have similar access emergency help line offering 24/7 mental health support. J&K reportedly leads India in helpline usage. But one generic number cannot address the specific, stigmatised traumas that drive people to despair.
What we urgently need are targeted helplines — dedicated lines for domestic violence, relationship breakups, drug addiction and workplace harassment. Even if operated by the same counsellors, the differentiation serves a critical psychological purpose. When an abused woman sees a specific number for domestic violence, she feels understood and less stigmatised. She is more likely to reach out.
Beyond helplines, we need: Mental health services in every district — not just Srinagar
· Destigmatisation campaigns in Kashmiri, targeting homes and communities
· Integration of mental health screening at primary health centres
· Economic interventions to address the unemployment-suicide pipeline
A collective failure: Every suicide is a failure of the collective — a life that slipped through a system too focused on barriers and not enough on healing. As experts have observed, in societies like Kashmir where stigma around suicide remains deeply entrenched, many deaths are misclassified, hidden or socially erased. The real scale may be significantly higher.
Fencing bridges may save some lives in the moment. But only by addressing the root causes of despair — through accessible, destigmatised and comprehensive mental health support — can Kashmir hope to stem this tragic tide.
A single suicide is one too many. Let’s act before another flower withers before its bloom.
(The writer is a Consultant Surgeon and healthcare policy advisor. Views are personal.)