22 October 2013. It was a few minutes past 7.30 pm. I was climbing up the stairs of the Pragati Maidan metro station to board the train for Dwarka. But by the time I reached the platform, a train had already departed the station. The train headed towards Vaishali, on the platform opposite to mine, was also leaving the station. I usually take the ladies’ coach in the evenings and so, I ambled towards the extreme left-end of the platform. The platform was empty, or so I thought it was empty until I saw the figure of a girl in blue shirt and black jeans trying to climb over the railing. She had her back towards the platform and she was preparing to jump. To kill herself.

It was a moment I can never forget; a sight that would haunt me every time I hear the word ‘suicide’. I called out to her. She heard me but didn’t respond. I wanted to run and grab her but I was scared that she might let go seeing me run towards her. I feared that I would helplessly watch her fall. I increased my pace little by little and called out again. I don’t remember what I said to her. “Don’t do it, please” “Please” “Listen…just look at me” I must have said something. I was close enough to grab her; she was still contemplating her jump but I may be wrong. I was on the platform and she was hanging outside, the only thing keeping her alive was her grip on two iron railings. But her determination to die scared me.

Her thin wrists were within my reach and I grabbed her right arm with both my hands. And then I screamed for help. I could see some people gathered on the road below. They seemed helpless and as if waiting for something to happen. There was not a soul on the platform I was in. Again, I don’t remember what I said. “Hello!!!” “Help!!” I saw another train approaching and a few men had gathered at the far end of the platform. I screamed until they heard me. By then the girl had let go of the railing. She pleaded me to let her go. But I wouldn’t. I held her by her right wrist with all my strength. My arms were hurting against the iron railings but I didn’t let go. Because I couldn’t. I must have been holding her arm for almost a minute that the train’s doors opened and the driver came out running; a few other men who heard me scream too came running to help. They pulled her back on to the platform as I let go slowly. I realised I had been crying. I was shivering. The girl was sobbing and mumbling something about a friend who had betrayed and insulted her, as a result of which she wanted to bring a desperate end to her life.

I don’t know how many people, in total, have killed themselves by jumping off the elevated platforms of the Delhi Metro till date. Or for that matter, how many have jumped on the rail tracks to get killed by a running train. There are many. But until yesterday, every time I read about such a case in the newspapers, I felt sad only for a moment and then forgot about it. I wasn’t connected to any of them. People say it is a cowardly act and that life is precious. I concur. But at that moment, when she sat crying in the control room of the metro station, I could say nothing to console her. She refused to eat or drink anything. I cannot reveal why she decided to jump. I can only hope that her name will not appear in the newspaper like many other unfortunate ones, at least not under a headline like “Girl commits suicide at Delhi Metro station.”

She was taken to the Yamuna Bank police station for interrogation afterwards and the friend of hers who apparently insulted her was also called in.

I don’t know much about the suicidal psyche but if I were to believe what everyone present at the scene yesterday had said, that “When a person has been stopped/saved from committing the act once, it’s unlikely that he/she may try it again.”

I would like to be optimistic and believe that she lives a long life. God bless.