One person is killed on Mumbais superhighways every 15 hours, the most difficult register in India. In our efforts to get a traction on the chaos, the police are extending digital recording penalties electronically and setting CCTV. But will it stop people taking jeopardies?
For 30 times after she was hit, Archana Pandya lay bleeding on a road in the busy Mumbai suburb of Goregaon. The 22 -year-old, which has recently started a new job, was on her behavior home from wield when she was the main victims of a hit-and-run. She died of her traumata. There were a lot of people there, and it happened right opposite a police headquarters, but no one came forward to help, says her friend Siddharth Pandya. Its not the roads; in India, its the people the hell is unsafe.
Pandya was one of 586 people killed in road accidents in Mumbai in 2015, the equivalent of one fatality every 15 hours. Another 2,034 were seriously injured. The long response times of ambulances and disaster vehicles, working together with the unwillingness of spectators to facilitate superhighway victims for dread of being detained by police and infirmaries, contribute to slow, unpleasant extinctions for hundred persons every year. As a result, Mumbai a city with approximately the same number of cars as London, but more than four times the number of superhighway fatalities has become known as Indias crash capital. In 2015 there were 23,468 recorded transaction crashes: the highest level of the country.
The citys metropolitan geography has helped multiply a culture of foolhardy driving. Vehicles zigzag through dense traffic jams, cutting paths, engulf from the left or zipping past red lights. Drivers are well aware that criminal penalties are small and the chances of getting caught are low. Numerous scoff at the relevant recommendations of wearing a seatbelt, while others casually take phone calls and answer text themes as they navigate through the labyrinth of cars.
These lax attitudes and dangerous driving wonts are spawned right from the driving test, which exists mostly as a formality and is readily smoothed with a small bribe. Aditi Deopujari, a Mumbai resident who got her driving licence in 2000, excuses: I was part of a driving school that had a setup with the Motor Vehicles Department[ which issues licences ]. I depicted up and had some rehearsal rounds, but never had to sit the exam or had any written exam regarding the rules. I just got handed the licence. Another occupant, who asked to remain anonymous, remarks: I literally had to drive five metres forward, and then five metres reverse. That was it, I passed.