Taming paper tigers

Over three decades back, I wrote a column on Indian motoring and the chaos on our roads. Today, I write another one on the same subject, with a subtle difference though, in that I shall be less judgmental. Way back in 1988, I wondered how we could get errant auto-rickshaws, over-laden trucks and mischievous bikers to obey motoring laws, which were suddenly and dramatically tweaked under the New Motor Vehicles Act, 1988, with fines being jacked up nearly ten-fold. As a teenager, I wondered out loud: "The implementation of the new laws should be done with a sledgehammer blow that brings law-breakers to their knees and blasts to smithereens traffic violations permitted for decades".

I thought I had made a true and harsh point. Decades later, however, things are still not working and my yesteryear's truth has turned out to be today's manifested lie. Just last week, I realized what a sham my supposed victory in 1988 stood for. I was driving back home at 11 pm and, like a good boy, waited patiently for the red to turn to green. Not so, felt some others, because a superbike went vroom past me at well over 100 kilometers per hour (kmph). Not to be outdone, or perhaps to catch a closer view of this new monster on our roads, three other bikers and one deviant in a car went vroom too, careening and chasing after him. Mind you, the lights I was waiting at had not one or two or three, but six traffic cameras pointing our way. Clearly, these cams have lost their bite and byte in the minds of our brethren.

That very instant itself, it became clear to me that we are battling pygmies from the backwaters. I am certainly not referring to any small-structured people from God's own country, Kerala, for nothing of that sort exists, but to the palpable loss of sensibility and decorum amongst our very own. This new-found zeal and scythe is cutting deep and the only way to rein in the rot seems to be to wield the hammer. If that doesn't do the trick, bring in the sledgehammer, by all means.

The timing is ironical

Over the 30 years since my first column, a bunch of measures have been put in place to curb traffic violations and book excesses. However, it doesn't seem to be working; and it is the timing of this new-found adrenaline rush on our roads that I find as tragic as it is comical. Despite steep and near-Draconian fines for violations (see Table; where most fines are well above many thousands of rupees for every misdemeanour), our paper tigers are shamelessly prancing on the roads. For inexplicable reasons, they have suddenly come out of hibernation, perhaps a lasting and lustful hangover after the latest waves of COVID-19. It is almost as if freed from the fear and chagrin that all of us have lived with for two years, our road champions are back with a vengeance, snorting for lost action.

Look at these incredible numbers. Authorities issued 1.98 crore 'challans', mopping up Rs 1,898.73 crore as fines for traffic violations across the country in Calendar 2021. In all, 2,15,328 cases of road rage and rash driving were reported in 2021. If we look at just the first 75 days of the ongoing Calendar year, authorities issued 40 lakh challans and collected Rs 417 crore in fines. This dramatic rise in challans comes just after the imposition of strict penalties in August 2019, when the Motor Vehicles (Amendment) Bill, 2019 was introduced. For those who get a high from city-wise statistics, here you are. In 2021, Delhi saw the highest number of challans (71,89,824), followed by Tamil Nadu (36,26,037) and Kerala (17,41,932). Clearly, the Capital leads by example.

Rules are strange too

Having berated my fellow motorists, I should also talk about the regulations themselves. Beyond doubt, all efforts to bring sanity back to our roads are highly appreciated. However, the new speed limits across cities, as also the implementation of traffic laws on the ground, are quite a muddle, sometimes disdainful. Many feel the intent of the new laws appears more focussed on increasing collections than deterrence and road safety. Among the reasons for this mess is that while Indian infrastructure, speed limit enforcement and challan amounts inch towards global standards, regulations remain archaic, with speed limits bordering on the ridiculous. Net-net, this is fanning an ugly conundrum—are we headed to a situation where enforcing compliance to a badly-drafted law is as bad as not enforcing a good law?

I recount a recent personal experience, when I was issued a challan for overspeeding. I was very, very curious, since I always stick to the speed limit. I learnt that I had been blasé enough to drive through Lutyens' Delhi at 52 kilometres per hour (kmph), while the speed limit was 50 kmph. Speed limits, I said? I apologize, especially as they are so hard to comprehend that many scratch their heads and other body parts in wonderment, sometimes bewilderment. On different roads in Delhi, speed limits vary from 30kmph, 40 kmph, 50 kmph, 60 kmph, 70 kmph and 80 kmph.

The only way then to avoid a speeding ticket in Delhi is to either focus more on road signs than on the road itself, or drive below 30 kmph. To avoid other challans, most now carry a Driving License, Vehicle Registration Certificate, Pollution Under Control and Insurance papers. Some have installed the Mparivahan app on their phones with these documents downloaded as an extra 'suraksha' to ensure that their hard-earned money stays in their own wallets.

Innovation to the fore

It had to happen and it has. The world-renowned Indian 'jugaad' (innovation) is also kicking in to avoid fines. Scores of people in India's metros have installed apps that warn them about speed cameras or police barricades in advance, giving them time to slow down and pretend to be a nice boy or girl. Those that commute the same route frequently know where danger lurks (and where it doesn't) and chug along in complicit peace. Some others have just given up driving and switched to public transport, especially given today's runaway fuel prices and traffic snarls.

As a society and a people, we are proving to be stubborn, sardonic and not malleable at all. 'Hamein kuchch nahin hoga' (nothing will happen to us) is the common comeuppance, quite akin to the attitude displayed during the repeated waves of the Coronavirus pandemic, where scant regard was given to precautionary and safety measures. That trend continues, both in our approach to traffic challans and the pandemic, with the latter again gnashing its teeth and marking a frightening return.

The moral of the story is simple, likewise for the people and the authorities. People have to learn to be more evolved and law-abiding, while law-makers have to come up with rules that are realistic, not bordering on the mysterious or downright bizarre. In the end-game, the implementers of these laws have to have a heart, not just a heavy hand and mouth, when dealing with those who may have stepped over the line or stomped on the gas pedal.

The writer is a clinical analyst and communications specialist. Views expressed are personal. narayanrajeev2006@gmail.com