New Delhi Railway Station Stampede: Negligence, Chaos, and Cover-Up

New Delhi Railway Station Stampede: Who Will Take Responsibility?

The stampede at the New Delhi Railway Station was not a mere accident—it was a failure of the system, an avoidable tragedy that laid bare the deep-rooted inefficiencies of governance and public safety mechanisms in India. At least 18 lives were lost, and over a dozen others were injured in the chaos that unfolded on February 15, 2025 at around 9:30 p.m. While stampedes are not uncommon in India—occurring at religious gatherings, political rallies, festivals, and public events—this particular incident stands out for what it reveals about institutional negligence.

More than the tragedy itself, what is most alarming is the government’s attempt to downplay and cover up the incident. Instead of addressing the lapses that led to the disaster, authorities appeared more focused on controlling the narrative. This is precisely what a responsible government should not do in the wake of such a crisis. Stampedes, in some cases, may be unavoidable due to unforeseen circumstances, but this was not one of them. What makes this incident even more damning is that it came just days after the devastating stampede at the Maha Kumbh, which claimed several lives. That such a disaster could repeat itself so soon only reveals a glaring truth—the government failed to learn from past mistakes.

Eyewitness accounts from those present at the New Delhi Railway Station paint a damning picture of how this tragedy unfolded—and how the authorities scrambled to suppress the truth. A seasoned coolie, who has spent decades working at the station, recounted to media outlets that the stampede was triggered by a last-minute platform change. According to him, Platform 12 was suddenly shifted to Platform 16, causing a panicked rush as passengers surged toward the new boarding point. In his words, he had never witnessed such an overwhelming crowd in his entire career. It was not the authorities, but coolies like him who stepped in, trying desperately to control the chaos, pulling people to safety, and ensuring the injured were rushed to ambulances for immediate medical attention.

If this was not enough to expose the negligence that led to the disaster, what followed in its aftermath reveals an even darker reality. A worker at LNJP Hospital, where the dead and injured were brought, confirmed to the media that bodies began arriving from 10 p.m. onwards. Among the deceased were children—an unspeakable tragedy that should have set alarm bells ringing at every level of governance. Eyewitness reports place the time of the incident between 9:15 and 9:30 p.m., making it clear that by 10 p.m., the fatalities were already known. And yet, at 11:01 p.m., the Delhi Fire Service was still insisting that there had only been injuries, deliberately downplaying the severity of the disaster. The timeline of events is damning—it shows not just failure, but an attempt to control information, to manipulate perception, and to delay the inevitable accountability that should follow such a catastrophe.

The government’s response to the New Delhi Railway Station stampede was not just delayed—it was a deliberate exercise in obfuscation. Nearly two hours after the tragedy had claimed multiple lives, Railway Minister Ashwini Vaishnaw put out a carefully worded tweet at 11:36 p.m., stating that the “situation [was] under control” and that the injured had been taken to the hospital. Nowhere in his statement did he acknowledge that a stampede had occurred or that lives had been lost. Instead, the focus was on downplaying the incident, framing it as a logistical challenge rather than a fatal disaster.

What followed was even more telling. At 11:55 p.m., Delhi’s Lieutenant Governor (LG) tweeted what appeared to be an honest admission: he acknowledged “an unfortunate and tragic incident of loss of lives and injuries due to disorder and stampede.” But within minutes, by 12:24 a.m., his tweet was edited—erasing any reference to deaths, disorder, or a stampede. The attempt to sanitise the reality of what had just transpired could not have been more blatant.

It was only at 12:13 a.m., almost three hours after the tragedy, that Defence Minister Rajnath Singh finally broke the silence, explicitly mentioning that lives had been lost in a stampede. Even then, it was not until 12:56 a.m. that Prime Minister Narendra Modi acknowledged the full gravity of the situation in his tweet. This timeline of events reveals more than just bureaucratic inefficiency—it shows a calculated effort to manage public perception, to control the narrative before the facts could no longer be concealed. The priority was not to inform the public or take responsibility but to buy time, delay acknowledgment, and minimise the political fallout of yet another avoidable tragedy.

The inconsistencies and apparent haste with which the aftermath of the New Delhi Railway Station stampede was handled raise troubling questions. Reports suggest that the final rites of some victims were conducted within 24 hours, facilitated by railway officials. The Hindu further revealed that the Railways swiftly distributed ₹10 lakh in cash compensation to the families of the deceased—even before the official announcement of compensation. This raises an obvious question: why such urgency? According to the Government of India’s 2023 guidelines, the Railways is permitted to provide only up to ₹50,000 in cash for immediate relief, yet in this case, the rules were bypassed without explanation.

No one disputes that victims' families deserve compensation—no sum can ever replace a lost life. But this is not about compensation alone. The real question is whether this was a calculated strategy to placate grieving families and defuse public outrage. Outside LNJP Hospital, news channels aired live footage of victims’ families being prevented from speaking to the media. Who were these people silencing them? Why was there an effort to control what they could say? Instead of transparency, there was a concerted effort to suppress voices and steer the narrative away from government culpability.

The role of the media in this cover-up cannot be overlooked. The sharp divide in media coverage was glaring—one section tried to report the facts, while another acted as an extension of the government’s damage-control mechanism. Nearly two hours after the tragedy, ANI, a major news agency, tweeted a quote from the Chief Public Relations Officer (CPRO) of Northern Railways, dismissing the stampede as a mere "rumour." According to this statement, "There is no stampede (at New Delhi Railway Station). It is only a rumour. Northern Railways was running two planned special trains (for Prayagraj)." How can the Railways be excused for such blatant misinformation when multiple eyewitness accounts had confirmed the deaths by then?

Even more telling is ANI’s handling of the Delhi LG’s tweet. Initially, the agency reported his full statement, which acknowledged the loss of lives. But once the LG edited his tweet to erase any mention of deaths or a stampede, ANI promptly deleted its original tweet of the LG. This raises a critical question: in moments of crisis, should a news agency, whose credibility depends on impartiality, be selectively modifying its reports to align with the government’s shifting narrative? This is not just about media ethics—it is about how information is manipulated to control public perception.

This apart, the intimidation of journalists covering the New Delhi Railway Station stampede raises serious concerns about press freedom and the suppression of information. A woman journalist from the news portal Molitics alleged that railway police officials harassed her, seized her phone, and threatened her with arrest unless she deleted her footage. "They told me, ‘You cannot show anything from here. Delete the data, or we will take you away right now,’” she stated in a video. This incident is not just an isolated case of intimidation—it reflects a broader attempt to control the narrative surrounding the tragedy.

While some journalists on the ground tried to report the reality of the situation, others appeared to align with the government’s version of events, deliberately avoiding the word "stampede" despite overwhelming evidence. This stark contrast in media coverage once again exposes the widening divide in Indian journalism—between those committed to truth and those who serve as mouthpieces for the state.

Subodh Jain, a retired board member for engineering at Indian Railways and a former general manager of the Central Railway told The Probe that the stampede could have been easily averted. "If the special train had been started from another station, this chaos could have been avoided. Announcing a special train at one of the busiest railway stations in the country and then making incorrect announcements—it’s a perfect recipe for disaster," he said. Jain also pointed out the lack of adequate security measures, which exacerbated the crisis.

The stampede at the New Delhi Railway Station is not an isolated incident, and it cannot be brushed aside. Several questions demand answers. Will action be taken against Northern Railways for initially dismissing the stampede as a "rumour"? Why did the Delhi LG edit his tweet, removing any mention of deaths and disorder? Why did the Railway Minister, even hours after the tragedy, fail to acknowledge the stampede in his public statements? If those at the top refuse to be held accountable, can we expect any meaningful change in the way the railways manage such crises?

Most importantly, this incident forces us to confront the role of the media in times of crisis. Should journalism serve as an extension of the government’s propaganda, or should it demand accountability and ask the difficult questions? The people of this country have the right to the truth. It is the duty of the media to ensure that the truth is told, no matter how inconvenient it may be for those in power.