Sometimes, after I scold her, I find little notes tucked away around the house. Sad smileys. Tiny hearts drawn with a shaky hand. Apologies written in uneven letters. "Sorry, Mumma." Notes that break my heart even as they remind me how deeply children feel, even when their emotions seem small or fleeting to adults.
That is why the suicide of three minor sisters in Ghaziabad has shaken me so deeply.
Ghaziabad Sisters Die By Suicide
Early Wednesday (February 4) morning, around 2.15 am, three girls - aged approximately 16, 14 and 12 - jumped together from the ninth-floor balcony of their apartment in Ghaziabad's Bharat City society. According to police, all three died on the spot and were declared dead at a nearby hospital. The girls were sisters. They lived together. And according to initial claims, they were allegedly influenced by a mobile gaming app.
The word "allegedly" matters here. Because even as the story unfolds, it is riddled with gaps and deeply troubling questions.
Early accounts suggested the sisters were addicted to a Korean gaming app that assigned them "tasks." It is not yet known if the final task allegedly asked them to take this extreme step.
Their suicide note carried lines such as "A True life Story," "DO READ IT MUMMY PAPA," "SORRY MUMMY PAPA," followed by multiple sad emojis. The words - raw, emotive, childlike - sound heartbreakingly familiar to anyone who has ever raised a child.
And yet, police have since said no concrete evidence has been found linking any specific game or task to the deaths. Investigators have also stated that the girls were "influenced by Korean culture," a phrase that feels vague and unsettling in its lack of clarity. Influenced how? Or is this a convenient explanation in the absence of harder answers?
Several Unanswered Questions
Then there are the details that refuse to sit quietly.
One of the sisters was reportedly 16-years-old but studying in Class 4. Her education, it is said, was disrupted after Covid. This alone raises questions. How does a child lose so many academic years without intervention? Also, it is being reported that none of the girls had been attending school for the last two years? Were there learning difficulties, mental health concerns, social isolation - or something else entirely - that went unnoticed?
Their family structure, too, is unusual and deeply complex. The girls' father, Chetan Kumar, had married twice - to two real sisters. The second marriage reportedly took place because there were no children from the first marriage at the time. Later, children were born from the first marriage as well. All family members lived together under the same roof. Among the three girls who died, two were daughters of the second wife, and one was the daughter of the first.
What dynamics were at play inside that household? Were there emotional fault lines, unspoken tensions, or feelings of insecurity that children absorbed silently? We do not know. But pretending that these factors are irrelevant would be dishonest.
Another critical detail has emerged: the family had reportedly imposed restrictions on mobile phone usage just days before the incident. As a parent, this detail stops me cold. Could the extreme step have been an impulsive act triggered by sudden withdrawal? Could it have been an act of protest, despair, or fear? Or is the timing purely coincidental?
Were these girls acting out a "task" from a game - or reacting to a loss of control, connection, or comfort? Were they mimicking something they had seen online, or expressing distress they could not articulate in words adults would take seriously?
We are too quick, perhaps, to blame screens alone. Too quick to point fingers at "games" and "apps" without asking what emotional needs were being fulfilled there in the first place. Children do not disappear into digital worlds for no reason. They go there because something feels missing, unsafe, or overwhelming in the real one.
What troubles me most is the image of three sisters jumping together. Not one child acting alone in a moment of despair - but three, united in death. That speaks of intense bonding, shared isolation, and perhaps a belief that there was no other way out. It speaks of children who may not have felt seen, heard, or protected enough.
As parents, we like to believe love is enough. That a roof, food, and rules will keep our children safe. But cases like this force us to confront uncomfortable truths. Are we listening closely enough? Are we noticing the small signs - the sad emojis, the repeated apologies, the quiet withdrawal?
My daughter can read my face and know when I am upset if she spends too long on the phone. Sometimes, she even forces herself to switch it off. But I also know this: children don't always tell us what they are carrying inside. Sometimes, they leave notes instead.
This case deserves more than rushed conclusions. It demands careful investigation, sensitivity, and honesty. Was it a game? Parental restriction? Family dynamics? Mental health struggles? Or a tragic combination of all of these?
Until those answers come, one thing is clear: three young lives are gone. And for parents everywhere, this is not just a news story. It is a warning - fragile, painful, and impossible to ignore.
If you or someone you know is struggling, please seek help. Children need more than rules. They need reassurance that no mistake, no scolding, no restriction is ever the end of the world.
It is completely natural to feel shaken. As a parent, hearing about a tragedy like the one in Ghaziabad—where three young sisters (aged 12, 14, and 16) lost their lives—strikes at our deepest fears about our children's safety in a digital world.
The news that they were deeply influenced by a "Korean task-based game" and felt such a profound sense of isolation is heartbreaking. It’s a stark reminder that the digital world isn't just "entertainment"; for children, it can become an entire reality.
If you are feeling overwhelmed, here is a way to process this and practical steps to protect your own peace and your children’s well-being.
1. Validating the "Parental Panic"
First, acknowledge that your fear is a sign of your love. Events like this often trigger a "protective reflex" where we want to snatch away every device. However, experts suggest that extreme, sudden restrictions can sometimes lead to the very secrecy or distress we’re trying to prevent.
2. Recognizing the "Rabbit Hole"
The Ghaziabad case highlights a specific type of risk: Task-based or "Immersive" content.
The Escapism Factor: The girls reportedly felt they "belonged to Korea" rather than their real lives. When real life (school, social circles) feels lacking, a digital world that offers "tasks" and "rewards" can become an addictive substitute.
The Secrecy: Addiction often thrives in the dark. The sisters reportedly hid their activities and even threw their phones away before the incident, showing how much pressure they felt to keep their digital lives private.
3. Practical Steps You Can Take Now
Rather than reacting with fear, you can respond with engagement.
Build a "Digital Bridge"
Be Curious, Not Accusatory: Instead of asking "What are you doing on that phone?", try "Show me the game you're playing lately. Why is it so fun?" If you understand the "hook," you can see the red flags earlier.
Watch for "Digital Dysmorphia": Notice if your child is obsessing over a specific culture, persona, or "task list" to the point where they stop attending school or interacting with family (as was the case with the sisters in Ghaziabad).
Implement "Common Area" Rules
Keep gaming and heavy internet use in the living room or kitchen. Isolation is often the catalyst for these tragedies.
Set a "Digital Sunset": Devices should be charged in a common area overnight, not in bedrooms.
Use Technical Guardrails
Parental Controls: Use apps like Google Family Link or Apple’s Screen Time to monitor what apps are being downloaded.
Check Ratings: Look for PEGI or ESRB ratings. Avoid "task-based" apps that don't have clear publishers or that encourage "secret" daily challenges.
4. Emergency Resources (India)
If you ever feel a situation is spiraling or notice your child expressing deep hopelessness, please reach out to these professionals immediately:
Vandrevala Foundation: 9999666555 (24/7 Support)
TISS iCall: 022-25521111 (Mon-Sat, 8 AM - 10 PM)
Kiran Helpline: 1800-599-0019 (Govt. Mental Health Helpline)
Would you like me to help you draft a gentle way to start a conversation with your child about online safety and their favorite games?
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