In one recent incident Near the capital Ghaziabad, three young sisters named Pakhi (12), Prachi (14) and Nishika (16) jumped one after the other from the ninth floor of their apartment building. The fall killed her almost instantly.
Initially Reports claimed that the girls were obsessed with Korean games and online content. This quickly sparked outrage and calls for the government to regulate or ban such applications.
However, further police investigations revealed something deeper than mere phone or internet addiction. It turned out that the sisters lived in cramped living conditions, a complicated household with multiple marriages and a complicated, unstable family history.
Source: FII
The sisters were half-siblings and lived with their father Chetan Kumar and three women identified as their mothers, Sujata, Heena and Tina. According to reports, the girls had not been to school for years and had little contact with the outside world. As details emerged, reports also suggested disturbing accounts of isolation, possible abuse at home and contradictions in the family’s narratives.
When we move beyond the simple explanation of “phone addiction” – the blame we often place on children when we don’t want to confront harder truths – something more hidden and disturbing emerges: the possibility of family abuse in childbirth.
The story we wanted to believe
What is striking in this case is how quickly the blame was shifted onto the girls themselves. Her father publicly described her as almost obsessively addicted to Korean culture. He said they used Korean names, played Korean games all the time and spent all the time on their cell phones. The constructed image was one of three children consumed by a digital fantasy.
What is striking in this case is how quickly the blame was shifted onto the girls themselves. Her father publicly described her as almost obsessively addicted to Korean culture.
He also claimed he took their phones away like any “good dad” would. Instead of addressing why the girls had been out of school for years and there was no formal education or home schooling, the explanation given was financial hardship. The two phones the sisters owned were supposedly sold to pay utility bills, a detail currently being investigated by police.
Overall, the narrative presented suggested that her death was a response to losing access to her devices. Her alleged addiction became the central cause. It was even claimed that they were upset about being restricted and possibly threatened early marriage.
Source: FII
However, that is Diary notes Elements left behind complicate this version. The girls wrote about not being allowed to watch television and feeling very lonely and restricted. The language in these notes speaks less of gaming obsession and more of isolation. This aspect, the loneliness that may have driven them into an external digital world, was largely ignored in early public discourse.
The details that didn’t fit
Behind the noise about “telephone addiction” and an alleged obsession with the Korean fantasy world, one detail kept cropping up: “school.” The sisters reportedly dropped out after the pandemic and were never sent back. For years there were no regular classes, no homeschooling or a routine outside of the home. Their world was their home, and they had nowhere to go.
Adolescence is usually the age when life expands. Instead, these girls seemed to be shrinking more and more. They spent most of their time in a cramped home, both literally and figuratively. Although the apartment had three bedrooms, multiple adults and children reportedly shared the limited space, often crowding into a single room. This isolation made the home resemble a prison.
National data suggests this is no coincidence. According to the National Bureau of Criminal Records“Family problems” continue to be the most common cause of suicide in India. What’s even more shocking is that these family problems account for over 30% of cases each year. Even with such a number of graves, the house is rarely believed to be a site of such serious damage.
According to the National Bureau of Criminal Records“Family problems” continue to be the most common cause of suicide in India.
Taken together, these are not the details of three children consumed by screens. Instead, these are three children who were victims of the most ignored form of abuse: family abuse during childbirth.
The violence that we don’t call by name at home
In India, there is a vocabulary for marital violence. It is very common to hear about domestic violence, which includes abusive husbands. Dowry harassmentor even domestic violence. There are laws around him. There are also helplines. There is even outrage. However, we rarely extend this language to what happens before marriage within the birth family itself.
Source: FII
When we talk about domestic violence, we often forget about the children who live in these homes. Not all violence leaves bruises. Sometimes it looks like a child is being withdrawn from school without explanation. At other times, it can simply seem like constant surveillance, doors that never open, or even friendships that never form.
Complicating matters further is the fact that abuse within the birth family is often hidden under the guise of protection. It often takes the form of punishment disguised as protection or control disguised as love. In such environments, it becomes difficult for children not only to report harm, but to even recognize it as harm.
There is also a gender-specific level here. They were young adolescent girls. Historically and culturally, control over girls’ mobility is increasing first and fastest. If it is even noticed that something is wrong, their movements initially shrink and their already limited world becomes smaller and smaller. And the solution offered to them is always the same: adapt, stay inside and be obedient.
There is also a gender-specific level here. They were young adolescent girls. Historically and culturally, control over girls’ mobility is increasing first and fastest.
In this case, the report suggested that the girls were also threatened with early marriage after their phones were taken. First they were deprived of the refuge of the digital world, then they were threatened with marriage. Her diary notes repeatedly mentioned loneliness.
Source: FII
Reading about the Ghaziabad sisters, one realizes that in Indian families, many girls are raised this way, half seen, half heard, and expected to endure whatever happens in their homes. We call it strict education, culture, discipline, but rarely call it what it really is: violence.
And maybe that’s the problem. Because we rarely try to change what we don’t want to name. It’s easy to blame the phone because it doesn’t demand anything from us. It allows us to look outward, at apps, games, foreign cultures, instead of looking inward and reflecting. But the real question is simpler and far more uncomfortable: Do our homes actually feel safe for the children who live in them?
Prevention rarely looks dramatic. Instead, prevention is the most common way of life. It can be as basic as a teacher noticing a child who hasn’t come to school, or a neighbor checking in, or just a friend calling, or a safe adult often asking the child if he or she is OK. Sometimes it’s the little interruptions that save lives. But accepting this means coming to terms with something we often resist, particularly in the Indian context, namely that families are not automatically safe places and that harm can begin long before a child ever leaves home.
Until we are willing to question what is happening in our own homes, we will continue to blame screens or technology for wounds that have arisen much closer to home.
This brings us to the stark realization that it wasn’t technology that pushed these girls out the window, but rather isolation and neglect, a home that couldn’t accommodate them. Until we are willing to question what is happening in our own homes, we will continue to blame screens or technology for wounds that have arisen much closer to home.
Ananya Shukla is a development communication researcher and poet currently pursuing her Masters at Jamia Millia Islamia. Her work combines science and creative expression, using media such as documentaries and poetry to explore how storytelling can drive social change.
