Amazing observation. What I would like to add is a pretty simple thing.
Maybe I'm wrong being a foreigner. But what I observe and identify as a reason this things happen is not about education or level of income.
I see deeply rooted disrespect to unknown people around.
Anyone can throw a garbage out of car's window. Anyone can drive an opposite lane. Anyone can endlessly honk. And switch on distant light with no concern if it's unconvenient for next car driver. Stop and pee without any hesitation at any spot along the road. No single thought appears in people's mind how disrespectful this way of behavior is.
For me as a foreigner living in India for years, this disrespect is very visible. And of course it has another side. People are craving to get other ones respect. Wearing fancy brands and jewelery. Living in posh societies. Owning expensive cars. Finally having servants, maids, drivers. All this is desperate need of other people respect. But it doesn't help having your servants paid respect calling you "sir".
And of course in the society where disrespect is a natural way of human attitude one to another, simple thing as having respect of others as they drive in correct lane becomes a luxury.
How to fix it? Maybe to start respect other ones around. For each of us living in India.
I think your analysis is kind of spot on. I also it ties in with the caste system that’s perpetuated for a long time that legitimises the disrespect. The nation runs on competition and ranking and shows. But funnily enough, Indians do show up for each other on dire days more likely than they are to in Western countries (from my personal experience living in 5 developed nations). The circle of care exists very strongly but only for the ‘in group’ which is why I think something like caste helps in solidifying the idea that outside of the circle, it cannot exist, almost like a binary.
That is an astute observation. In India, you see empathy, you see sympathy, but rarely respect for a stranger. All the respect is heavily skewed towards those we consider above us in a hierarchy, whether social, economic, or professional. So, respect only comes once a hierarchy is established.
I live in a tier-2 city that has, over the last 25 years, been on its way to becoming a "big city". My one observation is that while the roads are broader now and there are more traffic signals and dividers, in people's minds, they're still living in a large town rather than a big city. And that's why, when suddenly a road divider gets made, they can't process that to take their regular route now, they have to make a U-turn from 1 km ahead. And that's why they feel that it's best to just go wrong side!
"In Hollywood disaster films, I am unmoved by scenes where a city is trying to flee a calamity, because they look more orderly than Gurugram at any time."
So funny but true. I think it comes down to India being a low trust society with hyper-competition burned into us. Though I didn't grow up in India, I've grown up with Indian systems till adulthood. It's weird how much competition there is for everything. Even the manic need to get kids married comes from this scarcity. The problem is, it can't be helped. Too many people and too few opportunities. And the cost for not grabbing opportunities can be harsh for no reason than that's how the system is setup.
You are right about us "being a low trust society with hyper-competition burned into us." But the part about "too few opportunities" and "cost for not grabbing opportunities can be harsh" is not as true as it used to be (I grew up in the 80s, so I've witnessed a lot of change). Yet these attitudes seem to persist regardless of time, place, one's prosperity and position in society.
Why, for example, would people try to jostle and cut in line when boarding a flight, where every person has a reserved seat and it's not like the plane is going to take off while passengers are waiting to board? In their minds, people perhaps can't distinguish the plane-boarding situation from the (often nerve-wracking) train boarding situation people of a certain age (including me) are fully cognizant of.
I agree with you in terms of reserving seats - it doesn't really make sense to rush but we do it anyway by instinct, I think
I do think it's still quite bad when I look at it from a job hunting angle - I see in job hunting whatsapp groups how intense the rush is to find a role because there aren't enough roles for people. And for the more coveted jobs, it does feel it is 'IIT or nothing' with some of these ads
Can't imagine how it was in the 80s (except from my parents stories)
I no longer live in India, but visit regularly. Until a few years ago, I used to drive when I visited India... heck, I even took pride in still being able to do so despite living overseas for over 2 decades. Not anymore. I no longer drive because the traffic situation has gone from bad to worse, and the aggravation from driving no longer feels worth the pride from being able to do so.
Whenever I drive, I'm constantly reminded of one thing: we Indians cannot make a small personal sacrifice for the collective good. A few examples from where I live: drivers will allow other vehicles to change lanes or merge into traffic by slowing down or changing lanes themselves. People will stop to let cars back out of parking spaces. And by the same token, drivers will thank the driver who made that small sacrifice with a wave of the hand. This keeps traffic flowing smoothly, and even slowdowns on highways because of a crash or something don't feel terribly onerous. I was once stuck in a traffic jam between Bombay and Pune for seven hours because of an overturned truck on the expressway. Suddenly, the four lanes of the expressway became seven, and vehicles jostled to claim every last inch of available space. The result was an immovable mass. A similar situation where I live would have resulted in an orderly merging of multiple lanes into a single lane, which would then have been diverted around the crash. What would have made this possible is drivers allowing other drivers to merge in front of them, so that everybody could eventually merge into a single lane and get on with it. This simple act of a minor sacrifice that ultimately benefits everyone seems very alien to the Indian psyche. Maybe it's because we're chasing scarcity. Or maybe it's because we see rules being broken all around us without any consequence or accountability. Or maybe it's because the police force has been reduced to an institution where you purchase your employment and then spend your career profiting from your investment.
Gandhi walked two hundred and forty miles in formation to claim the public road for every Indian. A century later, an Ola driver fractures an elderly man's leg for asking him to stop spitting.
We Indians believe that rules are made only to be broken, that government is bad and has to deliver everything even to taking care of our children's manners, and that blaming others for things going wrong is the way to live. We need a 'danda' that strictly punishes rule-breaking, whether on the road or off it. How is it that cities like Chennai and Indore are able to be clean and follow road rules fairly well? Political will.
Wrong side driving is just Indians way of giving the middle finger to other Indians “Don’t give a f__k”. When confronted, every Indian will say “kya ukhaad lega”. It is just pure malice just for the sake of it. We are a cruel people and we are not afraid to show it. Its that simple
Bengaluru has gotten much worse since 2016. I used to cycle 10s of Kms a day in Bengaluru to work then. The only problem was the incessant honking which can be solved using earphones. Now we have large 6ft+ garbage mounds on all footpaths, unbearable breaking of road rules, I could never imagine cycling through Bengaluru like that again. We were better when we were poorer, the “dehaati” didn’t invade all our cities by then. My childhood growing up was quite idyllic, compared to the current insanity.
I enjoyed this piece, especially the point that civic order is not simply about knowing rules. Most people understand rules — the interesting question is why we make exceptions for ourselves.
Everyday situations reveal a lot about our relationship with fairness. We notice violations instantly when someone else jumps ahead, but are often more understanding of our own reasons.
I had explored a lighter side of the same behaviour through the everyday ritual of queue jumping. Sharing it here for anyone interested:
"The Delhi Metro has taught us a long time ago what to do - create everything that is required for a person to obey the rules, only then threaten to fine, then do fine mercilessly. If Indians can be persuaded not to spit in the Delhi Metro, any miracle can happen outside it."
There are no special conditions for VIPs in the Delhi Metro. That is what Freedom means, also.
(Though I have seen them being escorted past the line where mere mortals wait to be security checked . . . and it is not as though attempts were not made . . . )
This was a good read. On your point about airports, we build step by step. 1. Great Airport 2. Great Landing City 3. Great Roads to a nearby tourist village 4. Great Tourist village; There are probably higher priority, but if we want great infrastructure, we have to prioritize building great infra over others.
An observation from being a daily commuter in a tier 3 city: I see this incredibly frequently. And even though we are now the esteemed "CM city" and there's much heavier police presence and barricading everywhere, I don't see much of a difference in people's road sensibilities. If anything, they've gotten worse. The main chowk of the city doesn't have functional traffic lights. Other major crossroads aren't any better. In my experience, they work an average of 2-3 days every month or so. Sometimes they're working in the evening, sometimes in the morning, sometimes there are temporary traffic police officers standing there halfheartedly. There's no rhyme or rhythm to it. And I've noticed several times that it makes things MORE dangerous because there's just no predictability. I always go slow, I always look thrice in every direction, and I still got into an accident last year when a speeding 16 year old rammed into me from the side coming at 50-60 kmph! Fortunately I was wearing a helmet, boots, a bag, and a heavily padded jacket, so I got away with relatively minor injuries.
None of my NRI friends or relatives feel like driving when they're back in India, even though they were driving just fine for years/decades when they were here. It just feels alien to them. I can understand their predicament.
People often talk fondly of the chaos of Indian cities. I seldom see any beauty in it.
The issue isn't lane discipline. Not really. The deeper question — the one we keep stepping around — is whether institutions make orderly behaviour the path of least resistance, or whether they abandon each person to improvise inside a system that quietly rewards aggression.
Consider the Delhi Metro. The same people who jump dividers, who honk into stationary gridlock, who treat a pedestrian crossing as a mild suggestion — they queue inside. They wait for passengers to alight. They do not spit. Nothing changed about them. What changed was the design, the communicated expectation, the enforced consequence. Culture didn't shift. The environment did.
This matters because culture and character are too easily conflated. Indians are not inherently disorderly. No people are. What reads as cultural pathology is often just rational response to institutional failure. Repair the institution; behaviour follows. Not always. Not immediately. But it follows.
Lane discipline, then, is not about driving. It never was. It is about whether strangers trust each other enough to believe that everyone — everyone — will honour the same rules. That trust, once established, makes civic life dramatically easier. Without it, every citizen feels compelled to seize whatever the moment offers. Chaos becomes self-reinforcing. The rational actor and the reckless one become, for all practical purposes, indistinguishable.
Governance shapes culture. More than we admit. More, perhaps, than culture has ever shaped itself.
Amazing observation. What I would like to add is a pretty simple thing.
Maybe I'm wrong being a foreigner. But what I observe and identify as a reason this things happen is not about education or level of income.
I see deeply rooted disrespect to unknown people around.
Anyone can throw a garbage out of car's window. Anyone can drive an opposite lane. Anyone can endlessly honk. And switch on distant light with no concern if it's unconvenient for next car driver. Stop and pee without any hesitation at any spot along the road. No single thought appears in people's mind how disrespectful this way of behavior is.
For me as a foreigner living in India for years, this disrespect is very visible. And of course it has another side. People are craving to get other ones respect. Wearing fancy brands and jewelery. Living in posh societies. Owning expensive cars. Finally having servants, maids, drivers. All this is desperate need of other people respect. But it doesn't help having your servants paid respect calling you "sir".
And of course in the society where disrespect is a natural way of human attitude one to another, simple thing as having respect of others as they drive in correct lane becomes a luxury.
How to fix it? Maybe to start respect other ones around. For each of us living in India.
I think your analysis is kind of spot on. I also it ties in with the caste system that’s perpetuated for a long time that legitimises the disrespect. The nation runs on competition and ranking and shows. But funnily enough, Indians do show up for each other on dire days more likely than they are to in Western countries (from my personal experience living in 5 developed nations). The circle of care exists very strongly but only for the ‘in group’ which is why I think something like caste helps in solidifying the idea that outside of the circle, it cannot exist, almost like a binary.
That is an astute observation. In India, you see empathy, you see sympathy, but rarely respect for a stranger. All the respect is heavily skewed towards those we consider above us in a hierarchy, whether social, economic, or professional. So, respect only comes once a hierarchy is established.
very interesting. Now that you mention it, yes, probably true as well.
I live in a tier-2 city that has, over the last 25 years, been on its way to becoming a "big city". My one observation is that while the roads are broader now and there are more traffic signals and dividers, in people's minds, they're still living in a large town rather than a big city. And that's why, when suddenly a road divider gets made, they can't process that to take their regular route now, they have to make a U-turn from 1 km ahead. And that's why they feel that it's best to just go wrong side!
"In Hollywood disaster films, I am unmoved by scenes where a city is trying to flee a calamity, because they look more orderly than Gurugram at any time."
So funny but true. I think it comes down to India being a low trust society with hyper-competition burned into us. Though I didn't grow up in India, I've grown up with Indian systems till adulthood. It's weird how much competition there is for everything. Even the manic need to get kids married comes from this scarcity. The problem is, it can't be helped. Too many people and too few opportunities. And the cost for not grabbing opportunities can be harsh for no reason than that's how the system is setup.
You are right about us "being a low trust society with hyper-competition burned into us." But the part about "too few opportunities" and "cost for not grabbing opportunities can be harsh" is not as true as it used to be (I grew up in the 80s, so I've witnessed a lot of change). Yet these attitudes seem to persist regardless of time, place, one's prosperity and position in society.
Why, for example, would people try to jostle and cut in line when boarding a flight, where every person has a reserved seat and it's not like the plane is going to take off while passengers are waiting to board? In their minds, people perhaps can't distinguish the plane-boarding situation from the (often nerve-wracking) train boarding situation people of a certain age (including me) are fully cognizant of.
I agree with you in terms of reserving seats - it doesn't really make sense to rush but we do it anyway by instinct, I think
I do think it's still quite bad when I look at it from a job hunting angle - I see in job hunting whatsapp groups how intense the rush is to find a role because there aren't enough roles for people. And for the more coveted jobs, it does feel it is 'IIT or nothing' with some of these ads
Can't imagine how it was in the 80s (except from my parents stories)
I no longer live in India, but visit regularly. Until a few years ago, I used to drive when I visited India... heck, I even took pride in still being able to do so despite living overseas for over 2 decades. Not anymore. I no longer drive because the traffic situation has gone from bad to worse, and the aggravation from driving no longer feels worth the pride from being able to do so.
Whenever I drive, I'm constantly reminded of one thing: we Indians cannot make a small personal sacrifice for the collective good. A few examples from where I live: drivers will allow other vehicles to change lanes or merge into traffic by slowing down or changing lanes themselves. People will stop to let cars back out of parking spaces. And by the same token, drivers will thank the driver who made that small sacrifice with a wave of the hand. This keeps traffic flowing smoothly, and even slowdowns on highways because of a crash or something don't feel terribly onerous. I was once stuck in a traffic jam between Bombay and Pune for seven hours because of an overturned truck on the expressway. Suddenly, the four lanes of the expressway became seven, and vehicles jostled to claim every last inch of available space. The result was an immovable mass. A similar situation where I live would have resulted in an orderly merging of multiple lanes into a single lane, which would then have been diverted around the crash. What would have made this possible is drivers allowing other drivers to merge in front of them, so that everybody could eventually merge into a single lane and get on with it. This simple act of a minor sacrifice that ultimately benefits everyone seems very alien to the Indian psyche. Maybe it's because we're chasing scarcity. Or maybe it's because we see rules being broken all around us without any consequence or accountability. Or maybe it's because the police force has been reduced to an institution where you purchase your employment and then spend your career profiting from your investment.
Or maybe we've just stopped giving a fuck.
We celebrate profanity. Indians lack empathy more than anything.
Gandhi walked two hundred and forty miles in formation to claim the public road for every Indian. A century later, an Ola driver fractures an elderly man's leg for asking him to stop spitting.
This essay asks what happened in between. https://citizenpositive.substack.com/p/swaraj-five-kilometres-per-hour
We Indians believe that rules are made only to be broken, that government is bad and has to deliver everything even to taking care of our children's manners, and that blaming others for things going wrong is the way to live. We need a 'danda' that strictly punishes rule-breaking, whether on the road or off it. How is it that cities like Chennai and Indore are able to be clean and follow road rules fairly well? Political will.
Wrong side driving is just Indians way of giving the middle finger to other Indians “Don’t give a f__k”. When confronted, every Indian will say “kya ukhaad lega”. It is just pure malice just for the sake of it. We are a cruel people and we are not afraid to show it. Its that simple
Bengaluru has gotten much worse since 2016. I used to cycle 10s of Kms a day in Bengaluru to work then. The only problem was the incessant honking which can be solved using earphones. Now we have large 6ft+ garbage mounds on all footpaths, unbearable breaking of road rules, I could never imagine cycling through Bengaluru like that again. We were better when we were poorer, the “dehaati” didn’t invade all our cities by then. My childhood growing up was quite idyllic, compared to the current insanity.
Gig economy made it infinitely worse
I enjoyed this piece, especially the point that civic order is not simply about knowing rules. Most people understand rules — the interesting question is why we make exceptions for ourselves.
Everyday situations reveal a lot about our relationship with fairness. We notice violations instantly when someone else jumps ahead, but are often more understanding of our own reasons.
I had explored a lighter side of the same behaviour through the everyday ritual of queue jumping. Sharing it here for anyone interested:
https://www.deccanherald.com/opinion/the-great-indian-art-of-cutting-the-line-3871597
We spell India with a capital I.
We tend to understand that as I, the supreme being, come before the rest of India and other Indians to whom I am entirely indifferent to.
"The Delhi Metro has taught us a long time ago what to do - create everything that is required for a person to obey the rules, only then threaten to fine, then do fine mercilessly. If Indians can be persuaded not to spit in the Delhi Metro, any miracle can happen outside it."
There are no special conditions for VIPs in the Delhi Metro. That is what Freedom means, also.
(Though I have seen them being escorted past the line where mere mortals wait to be security checked . . . and it is not as though attempts were not made . . . )
https://metrorailnews.in/delhi-metro-sreedharan-does-not-agree-with-scs-premium-coach-idea-for-delhi/
This was a good read. On your point about airports, we build step by step. 1. Great Airport 2. Great Landing City 3. Great Roads to a nearby tourist village 4. Great Tourist village; There are probably higher priority, but if we want great infrastructure, we have to prioritize building great infra over others.
Spot on!
An observation from being a daily commuter in a tier 3 city: I see this incredibly frequently. And even though we are now the esteemed "CM city" and there's much heavier police presence and barricading everywhere, I don't see much of a difference in people's road sensibilities. If anything, they've gotten worse. The main chowk of the city doesn't have functional traffic lights. Other major crossroads aren't any better. In my experience, they work an average of 2-3 days every month or so. Sometimes they're working in the evening, sometimes in the morning, sometimes there are temporary traffic police officers standing there halfheartedly. There's no rhyme or rhythm to it. And I've noticed several times that it makes things MORE dangerous because there's just no predictability. I always go slow, I always look thrice in every direction, and I still got into an accident last year when a speeding 16 year old rammed into me from the side coming at 50-60 kmph! Fortunately I was wearing a helmet, boots, a bag, and a heavily padded jacket, so I got away with relatively minor injuries.
None of my NRI friends or relatives feel like driving when they're back in India, even though they were driving just fine for years/decades when they were here. It just feels alien to them. I can understand their predicament.
People often talk fondly of the chaos of Indian cities. I seldom see any beauty in it.
The issue isn't lane discipline. Not really. The deeper question — the one we keep stepping around — is whether institutions make orderly behaviour the path of least resistance, or whether they abandon each person to improvise inside a system that quietly rewards aggression.
Consider the Delhi Metro. The same people who jump dividers, who honk into stationary gridlock, who treat a pedestrian crossing as a mild suggestion — they queue inside. They wait for passengers to alight. They do not spit. Nothing changed about them. What changed was the design, the communicated expectation, the enforced consequence. Culture didn't shift. The environment did.
This matters because culture and character are too easily conflated. Indians are not inherently disorderly. No people are. What reads as cultural pathology is often just rational response to institutional failure. Repair the institution; behaviour follows. Not always. Not immediately. But it follows.
Lane discipline, then, is not about driving. It never was. It is about whether strangers trust each other enough to believe that everyone — everyone — will honour the same rules. That trust, once established, makes civic life dramatically easier. Without it, every citizen feels compelled to seize whatever the moment offers. Chaos becomes self-reinforcing. The rational actor and the reckless one become, for all practical purposes, indistinguishable.
Governance shapes culture. More than we admit. More, perhaps, than culture has ever shaped itself.