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The idea to write about the foundational units of civic order—traffic rules, signage, and their connection to development came to me as I watched my 16-year-old son enroll in a mandatory 30-hour driver’s education program. New young drivers in Massachusetts must complete the 1-week program before beginning driving lessons. Observing him study lane discipline, right-of-way, signage, and speed limits – with real-world consequences tied to every decision – I realized this was more than learning to drive. It was an early education in citizenship, revealing how rule-based systems shape behavior and build societal trust. These are not minor details—they are the architecture of order.
If India aspires to join the ranks of developed nations, the path to Viksit Bharat must begin with these fundamentals: rules followed not out of fear, but conviction. This may sound trivial, but it is the bedrock of civic life.
Take a drive through almost any Indian city or highway, and you will feel the disorder. Lane markings are inconsistent or absent. Intersections are chaotic and poorly designed. Signboards vary in size, font, and placement. Exits are often unmarked. Traffic signs are positioned with little regard for visibility, comprehension, or driver cognition. The rules exist—but they are unintelligently designed or arbitrarily enforced.
Then there’s the cultural malaise: constant honking, erratic lane changes, disregard for right-of-way, and the total neglect of pedestrian rights. These are not merely annoyances. They reflect a deeper malaise—a national tolerance for mediocrity in civic life. We’ve normalized dysfunction and shrugged off poorly executed infrastructure as just “the Indian way.”
But this is not because we lack talent or capacity. India’s achievements in science and engineering are globally admired. From the space program to nuclear capabilities, from pharmaceutical innovation to IT prowess, and from medical advances to digital infrastructure, India has delivered. It fields a professional, voluntary military and conducts the world’s largest elections with impressive integrity. Much has been accomplished in the 75 years since independence.
Nor is this disregard for detail a relic of ancient times. Quite the contrary—India’s architectural history is a testament to precision. The Ashokan lion capital, the Ajanta and Ellora caves, the Sun Temple at Konark, Jain temples of Mount Abu, and Mughal marvels like Humayun’s Tomb and the Taj Mahal—all reflect meticulous craftsmanship and design, centuries before modern metrics. These structures weren’t just artistic or religious expressions—they were proof of a cultural obsession with excellence.
Somewhere along the way, that ethos eroded. Today, we seem conditioned to accept “good enough.” We live with potholes, littered streets, and casual public disorder, as if dysfunction is our destiny. But this isn’t a failure of resources—it’s a failure of expectations. A culture of perfection does not emerge spontaneously from prosperity; it must be cultivated through norms, pride, education, and sustained institutional example.
Today’s political and media narratives emphasize India’s rising global stature—economic rankings, summits, global partnerships, and a civilizational resurgence. But such narratives can blur into self-congratulatory nationalism and selective history. Many young Indians are raised on a heady mix of ancient grandeur and modern destiny—sometimes disconnected from their everyday civic experiences.
Believing we’ve already arrived short-circuits the self-reflection required to truly progress. It breeds a culture where criticism is seen as betrayal and external scrutiny dismissed as conspiracy. But growth demands humility, contemplation and accountability.
As someone who has lived abroad for over two decades, I can say confidently: there is no global conspiracy to thwart India’s rise. Yes, great powers act in their own interest—but India is not a victim. The most persistent barriers to our development are internal. They stem from our reluctance to self-correct, enforce standards, and value collective order over individual convenience.
There’s no classified playbook on how to design traffic systems or road signage. These are public goods, tested over decades, available to any country willing to adopt and implement them. Why then do we still fail to apply them systematically?
India’s greatness lies not just in its past or potential—but in its ability to hold multiple truths. We can take pride in building satellites and manufacturing vaccines while admitting we still struggle to consistently paint a lane divider. One doesn’t negate the other. But unless we confront that gap with clarity and commitment, we risk living in a world of illusions—where symbolism replaces structure and pride overshadows performance.
This isn’t just about signs, signals and lines—it’s about the soul of the nation!
When my son learns to yield at a roundabout or stop at a red light, he is learning more than traffic rules. He is absorbing a culture of accountability, responsibility, and consequence. These are the invisible threads that bind a society together.
India must rediscover its hunger for precision and the dignity that comes from public order. That journey doesn’t begin with grand speeches or trillion-dollar budgets. It begins with drawing a line—a straight, thoughtfully placed line—and insisting it matters.
Aman Kalra, MD, MBA
https://www.mass.gov/lists/drivers-manuals
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