Civic Carnage

The horrific accident outside Bhandup railway station, where four commuters waiting patiently in a queue were killed when a BEST bus rammed into them, was a damning verdict on the state of Mumbai’s governance. Nine others were seriously injured while the city’s politicians were busy auditioning for power in the upcoming civic polls.

The CCTV footage shows commuters being forced to wait in their queue, inches from moving traffic, because Mumbai has normalised danger as the price of mobility. The images of the BEST bus careering backwards into the crowd and bodies scattering, some crushed beneath its wheels, is shocking to watch.

The 52-year-old driver, attempting a U-turn into a depot, is said to have pressed the accelerator instead of the brake. He has been arrested. Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis has announced Rs. 5 lakh in compensation per death and expressed his sorrow. However, as politicians express grief, the system that made such an accident likely in the first place will remain untouched.

Bhandup station is not an obscure outpost but a busy suburban node where commuters habitually spill onto the road because there is nowhere else to stand. Bus stops are ill-marked, pedestrian barriers absent or ornamental, and large vehicles are expected to perform awkward manoeuvres amid crowds.

What makes the episode more damning is that in December last year, another BEST bus had mowed down passengers in Kurla, killing nine and injuring dozens.

And yet, the political class remains unmoved. With elections looming across Mumbai and other urban centres at present, leaders arguing over alliances, trading slogans and invoking visions of world-class cities. Meanwhile, the city’s actual infrastructure is behaving like a booby trap. Roads double as waiting rooms, bus depots intrude into pedestrian zones, and enforcement oscillates between indifference and post-mortem outrage.

Anyone who spends time on Mumbai’s roads knows that speeding buses, aggressive turns and casual disregard for pedestrians are routine. Traffic laws exist largely as suggestions. Challans are issued sporadically and the certainty of punishment, which is far more important than its severity, remains elusive.

Public transport drivers, for their part, operate under pressure that borders on absurdity. Tight schedules, congested routes, poorly designed depots and wet-lease arrangements blur responsibility between operator and authority. When something goes wrong, the driver becomes the villain of the piece, absorbing blame that properly belongs to planners, regulators and politicians who allowed chaos to masquerade as efficiency.

Mumbai likes to describe itself as resilient. In truth, it has become resigned. Commuters have been forced to accept danger as part of daily life, much as they have long accepted delays and overcrowding.

If Mumbai’s leaders wish to be judged on substance rather than slogans, they might start by asking a simple question: why is waiting for a bus still one of the city’s more dangerous activities? Until that is answered with concrete action, the city’s campaigns will ring hollow and its streets will remain unforgiving.