The tragic air accident in Ahmedabad involving the Air India flight has shocked the world. Air travel is one of the safest modes of transport, and when such a tragedy occurs, it is heartbreaking. Although nothing can compensate for the loss of life of the dear ones, Air India’s parent company, Tata, has announced a compensation of `1 crore for the families of the victims. Though this may appear generous, under the international Montreal Convention, the airline is liable to pay a compensation amounting to 1,51,880 Special Drawing Rights (SDRs) per deceased passenger. This translates to approximately Rs 1.8 crore at the current exchange rates to the next of kin. It is unclear whether the Tata offer is in addition to the mandatory payment of Rs 1.8 crore as per law.
A few days before the tragic air accident, some passengers of Mumbai’s infamous local trains fell off the overcrowded compartments and died. These were daily commuters struggling to make a living in one of the world’s most prosperous cities. The Maharashtra government promptly announced a compensation of Rs 5 lakhs. Railways have remained silent so far, but as per the Railways Act of 1989, the Railways are bound to give a compensation of Rs 8 lakh. For this, the kin of the victim will have to file a claim with the Railway Claims Tribunal, and the compensation may take many years to be fruitful, if at all. On an average, the passengers in an international flights are wealthier than an average commuter in a Mumbai local. The disparity in compensation between the two sets of victims is glaring. All lives are equal, but some lives are more equal in our society.
Life is so cheap in India. The victory celebration of the IPL champions claimed many lives in Bengaluru a few weeks ago. Many died in a stampede in Kumbh Mela; we don’t even know how many actually died there. The accident in Mumbai local that claimed five lives are in headlines only because they happened together in one tragic accident. It is estimated that on an average seven people die every day in accidents related to Mumbai local. That is around three thousand victims a year. To put things in perspective, total number of terror victims in India last year was 87, including the terrorists killed. In other words, commuting to office or college in a Mumbai local is more dangerous than living in a terror-prone area.
If trains are death traps, then Indian roads are veritable killing fields. Potholes—those innocuous-looking craters that pockmark our streets—claim a staggering 2,342 lives annually. And those are merely the documented cases. One can only imagine the grim statistics lurking in the shadows of administrative indifference.
The irony is palpable. While Air India passengers’ families receive crores in compensation and Mumbai local victims’ kin fight for their meager lakhs, the families of those who perish in pothole-related accidents often receive nothing but condolences—if they’re lucky enough to get even that.
What’s particularly galling is the absolute absence of accountability. When a plane crashes, aviation authorities scramble into action. Investigations commence, heads roll, systems are overhauled. When pothole deaths occur? Crickets chirp in the halls of municipal corporations. The maintenance engineers who signed off on substandard road work continue drawing their salaries. The contractors who used sand instead of cement in their mixtures secure the next tender with a knowing smile and a well-placed bribe.
Why aren’t these negligent engineers cooling their heels in prison cells? Why aren’t the contractors facing manslaughter charges? A pothole isn’t an act of God—it’s the physical manifestation of human corruption and callousness. Yet somehow, when a motorcycle swerves to avoid one such crater and collides with an oncoming truck, it’s classified as a “tragic accident” rather than what it truly is: institutional homicide.
The bitter truth is that our society has normalised these deaths. We’ve accepted them as collateral damage in our daily commute. Meanwhile, the families of victims are left to navigate the potholed landscape of grief without so much as a roadmap to compensation.
Perhaps if pothole victims were wealthy international travellers, their deaths might merit more than a shrug. But in a country where human life is priced according to socioeconomic status, those who die on our broken roads are simply budget items in the ledger of national indifference. The list of deadly hazards facing average Indians extends far beyond potholes. Construction sites flout safety codes with impunity, buildings rise without proper permits, and fire exits remain locked or non-existent. Our national highways transform without warning—single lanes become double, then abruptly narrow again, with construction debris strewn like deadly obstacles in an apocalyptic video game.
Electrical wires dangle at head height in urban neighbourhoods, while office buildings become potential crematoriums with their blocked fire escapes. Temples, stadiums, and public gatherings become death traps at the slightest provocation. Each day an Indian returns home intact feels less like routine and more like surviving a gauntlet designed by particularly sadistic gods.
This callous disregard will persist until officials face personal consequences—termination, imprisonment, financial ruin. Imagine if Railways had to pay Air India-level compensation for each passenger who falls from an overcrowded train, how quickly would automatic doors appear on every compartment?
We may be 1.5 billion souls jostling for space, but our lives aren’t worthless statistical rounding errors. Perhaps when the cost of our deaths becomes prohibitively expensive, the powers that be might finally invest in keeping us alive.