Last month, I was attending the second day of the Delhi University Literature Festival with my junior when a frantic call shattered the afternoon. Over the call, he was told that a friend of his, whom he had known since his undergrad days, Ruchi Tiwari, a journalist by profession, was being lynched in broad daylight at Gate Number 4 of the Faculty of Arts, University of Delhi. We rushed to the spot, and the moment we reached, what I saw froze me to the core: ‘systemic apathy’ was the only word that shouted out loud in my mind. At that moment, I didn’t know who the instigator was of whatever I was seeing or what could force the lynch mob to act like that. All I could see was a girl being harassed, molested, and paraded and the police officers doing ‘absolutely nothing’.
Tiwari had gone to cover a pro-2026 University Grants Commission Equity Regulations protest organised by All India Students’ Association, a left-wing student organisation, but was attacked when it was revealed that Tiwari was a Brahmin.
I precisely remember that this lynching was happening outside the Pink Police Booth of the Maurice Nagar Police Station. The police officers were there, on duty and very much alert, but their eyes were fixed on something else: securing the route for very important persons (VIPs). No one bothered to interfere. No one broke rank to save a human life unfolding in tragedy just feet away.
Since now I have your attention, let me pose a ‘haunting question’ to you: if the system lacks even a shred of empathy for the general public, then could even the best of the governments, will ever be able to pull this nation out of its paralysis? I’m with you on the answer.
Now, assume getting a call that someone you love, who was just heading home from work, fell into a deep, open pit in the middle of the road and is no more. Precisely this scary incident happened in Janakpuri, Delhi, a few days ago, when a 25-year-old biker died by falling into a deep excavation pit. His death could have been prevented if there had been a caution board. Alas, there wasn’t any.
What followed was a predictable ‘blame game’ between different departments of the administration. It seemed like every authority was more worried about proving ‘it wasn’t our fault’ than actually taking responsibility for a tragedy that could have been prevented. Fair enough, there weren’t samosas being distributed, but the question was of accountability and so it is understandable to me – at least.
Behind every statistic is a person who never made it home. By early 2026, we saw a staggering 53% surge in pothole-related deaths since 2020 across the nation. In 2024 alone, 2,385 families were left grieving, that’s more than six lives cut short every single day. What must concern us is that Delhi holds the highest fatality record among all Union Territories.
Now, what happened in Janakpuri was no different in reminding us that such incidents aren’t just accidents or numbers on a page. They are very much preventable heartbreaks that we’ve simply grown used to ignoring.
And the solution of this menace, too, isn’t just penalising the failure after a life is lost; it is about mandating ‘active prevention.’ Before we talk about compensation, we must talk about the basic duty of care. A half-dug road or an excavation pit is a loaded gun. It is not some ‘rocket science’ for a municipal authority to ensure that every work site is cordoned off with ‘standardised danger signs’ and ‘reflective barriers’. I feel the transition from hazard to tragedy happens in the gap where administrative oversight fails to conduct simple, routine ground checks.
If I talk about the negligence. Then, it is recurring and the body responsible for preventing such negligence doesn’t care enough. This lack of ‘systemic empathy’ could be seen in an incident from November 2024, when three men, Vivek, Amit, and Ajit, plunged 50 feet off a half-constructed bridge into the Ramganga River in Bareilly. They were following the GPS, so the true culprit wasn’t the technology, but the administration’s failure to place a ‘simple physical barricade’ on a bridge broken by floods months prior.
You might also remember the popular Shimla road collapse of November 2025, in which a road suddenly caved in and a schoolgirl boarding a Himachal Road Transport Corporation (HRTC) bus fell straight into the sinkhole. However, luckily, she was rescued.
I appreciate the Delhi Government’s recent approval of Rs 802 crore ‘wall-to-wall’ carpeting project, but what I ask is that even after the government does its work, will the department granted the amount do theirs? I doubt.
There’s something to note for us. In October 2025, the Bombay High Court (HC) ruled in a Public Interest Litigation (PIL) that the right to safe, pothole-free roads constitutes a fundamental right under Article 21 of the Constitution. The Division Bench of Justices Revati Mohite Dere and Sandeep Patil ordered municipal bodies, state agencies, and contractors to pay Rs 6 lakh compensation to families of pothole-related deaths (plus Rs 50,000-Rs 2.5 lakh for injuries), recoverable from negligent officials and contractors personally, with 9% interest for delays; and that potholes must be fixed within 48 hours or be ready to face strict action.
This can be the gold standard for all Indian states, right? Yet, even with such judicial clarity, another query that remains is: is an order on paper enough to fix a hole in the pavement? Obviously not. Without a trained administrative workforce that views road safety as a time-sensitive emergency, even the most progressive court orders in the world risk remaining mere judicial ornaments while the asphalt continues to crumble.
It is high time that we enforce personal accountability. Drawing inspiration from the Bombay HC’s order, engineers and contractors must be made to pay for negligence out of their own pockets.
This personal liability should not be viewed as the first strike, but as the essential last resort, the fail-safe for when all precautionary protocols are ignored.
See, it’s simple: if an engineer knows that a missing caution board or a neglected 24-hour repair window could directly impact their career and finances, the ‘patchwork’ culture will naturally shift toward durable, life-saving precision.
Personal accountability simply ensures that ‘public interest’ is no longer an abstract concept, but a professional obligation. If money is required to remain alive, money will ensure that others remain alive.
