BackOutside in | India’s boulevards of death
The dangers of driving in Delhi, in particular, cannot be overstated, especially for expatriates who are used to rigorous driving licence tests, sticking by rules, extremely vigilant traffic police and generally calmer roads
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I was overjoyed to see traffic police stop a couple of cars in New Delhi the other day, waving them to the side of the road in the middle of rush hour. Now, to a lot of people, this shouldn’t be news at all—let alone a cause of joy. But over the months, I have watched with a growing sense of frustration the flagrant and shocking transgressions of car drivers in the Indian capital, while otherwise zippy motorcycles and scooters often seem to be unable to repeat such acts of escapology.
From anecdotal evidence, this is a matter of great mystery to expats and other outsiders in Delhi – how is it that the city’s traffic cops are so quick on the draw when it comes to stopping errant scooters and motorcycles (collectively known as two-wheelers here) and even ‘three-wheelers’ (tuktuks), while cars roar past the red light from under their noses?
It may have something to do with the sense of power that comes with being a car owner in Delhi (the bigger the better), as also rampant petty corruption among the lower ranks of traffic police and the general air of casualness that cops exude, as if to say, ‘I’m in it only for the job mate.’
No matter where you drive in Delhi, busy crossroads will often have a bunch of suitably rueful-looking drivers of two-wheelers lined up by traffic constables, their offences ranging from failing to wear a helmet to scooting past a red light. Sometimes, the traffic cops—they are deployed in bunches rather than singly or in pairs – will let the drivers off after pocketing a small fine.
To my mind this—petty corruption—is one of the main reasons why the streets of Delhi and other cities in India are among the most dangerous in the world. More people die of road accidents in India than in any other country. The death rate of nearly 19 per 100,000 population in 2013 easily surpasses the average for developed countries (8.7) and other developing countries such as Indonesia (17.7) and Bangladesh (11.6).
According a report in Mint, government figures show that more than 440,000 road accidents took place in 2011, killing nearly 137,000 people—a 44.2% rise in fatal accidents in a decade. That’s a death every five minutes on Indian roads, a figure that is expected to rise to a death every three minutes by 2020.
The dangers of driving in Delhi, in particular, cannot be overstated, especially for expats who are used to rigorous driving licence tests, drivers who stick by rules, extremely vigilant traffic police and generally calmer roads.
My daily office commute takes me on a wide tree-lined avenue that is home to some of the city’s most exclusive homes. It is no more that half a mile in length, yet as soon motor cars, two-wheelers and three-wheelers hit it, for some reason they start behaving like Formula 1 drivers on amphetamines.
There is almost never a policeman in sight on this road, although it is close to where a Union minister was killed in a road accident early one morning just a week after Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s cabinet was sworn in. Gopinath Munde was on his way to the airport when his car was hit by a speeding taxi.
May be Munde’s tragic death was the spark that caused it, but now it seems, traffic cops are finally beginning to take their job seriously. At the same time, the government is considering replacing the antiquated Motor Vehicles Act of 1988 with a Road Transport and Safety Bill. The draft law, which may be introduced in the winter session of Parliament this year, proposes to raise road fines from their low hundreds to anything between ₹ 5,000 and ₹ 25,000.
This does not come a day too soon. But a number of other measure must accompany the new Bill if and when it is passed.
n Driving licence tests: I know one expat who was in a hurry. Not a problem, said the officer at the desk, and asked him to drive the car a couple of metres in first gear and then a couple of metres in reverse. That was all.
n Unruly pedestrians: Many of Delhi’s roads are something like inner city dual carriageways, where cars speed up appropriately. The problem here is pedestrians. In the absence of enough subways or impelled by a sudden need to run across even when there are subways or overhead bridges, pedestrians will burst through physical barriers. Iron dividers are ripped out, or low, cemented barrier are dug through to create convenient gaps, which are really death traps.
n Lowly paid, disempowered, demoralized traffic police: in many of the world’s major cities traffic police have power and an air of authority. These come with training and good pay—constables who can afford to buy decent cars are not likely to be in awe of a car driver who breaks the law.
n Migrant drivers: an explosion of motor vehicles on Indian roads means many car owners can’t be bothered to drive. They employ drivers, even if they own tiny bangers, but a shortage of skilled drivers and the aforementioned licence procurement methods mean many of these jobs are taken by migrants from villages. They are unused to busy roads, unfamiliar with any driving rules whatsoever and paid by uncaring owners whose sole purpose is to get to their destination in the shortest possible time.
It’s very odd. Delhi—especially its beautiful central and southern parts—could rival the finest cities of this planet. But to get there will need strict enforcement of rules and regulation—a massive national clean-up of a different kind.
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