Rs 1000 And A Wake-Up Call

(MENAFN- Kashmir Observer)
Representational pic is sketched by the author.

By Aisha Hasnain

I knew we were in trouble the moment I saw that blue uniform. The traffic cop was glued to his phone, but it wasn't for scrolling Instagram – he was taking pictures. A moment later, my brother confirmed it:“He booked us with a chalan.”

And just like that, our idyllic plan to breathe in the spring air at Badam Vaer turned into a thousand-rupee setback. My brother got the message: Pillion rider without crash helmet. Fine: Rs 1000. Section 129 of the Motor Vehicles Act had officially ruined my mood.

Yes, I knew the rules had tightened in the Valley. My brother had even reminded me to wear a helmet. But I struggle with severe anxiety – the weight of a helmet on my head or anything tight around my neck makes me feel like I'm suffocating. So, I carried it in my hand, hoping I could throw it on if we spotted a cop in time. But who can outrun technology these days?

In Kashmir, bending traffic rules has been second nature. Growing up, there were rarely zebra crossings. Cars never paused for pedestrians. We crossed roads like dodging bullets – pure instinct. It's not that we're lawless; it's more that the law never felt real. I'd call it a mutual understanding between drivers and traffic police.

Read Also No Compromise On Road Safety Now: RTO Tengpora Aftermath- Over 3000 Vehicles Seized In Last 9 Days

I even owe part of my education to this unspoken system. Back in 2017, when my mental health made hostel life impossible, I convinced my father to get me a scooter. No license. No number plate. No helmet. But I rode to class every day, guilt wrapped around me like a shawl. It was wrong, yes. But I told myself: this was about a girl's education. That scooter was my ticket to independence.

Ironically, it was only after Mr Basant Rath became IG of Traffic that things changed. He brought a level of discipline we weren't ready for – and we both hated and admired him for it.

Now, enforcement is smarter, quicker. A phone camera is enough to book you. Still, some lessons come with grace. Once, I jumped a red light after a long day of tuition, assuming it was harmless. A man, old enough to be my father, gently pulled up beside me and said,“My dear, don't break signals.” I never did again.

So yes, I got fined. But the photo – me in shades, peeking from behind my brother, helmetless – is kind of iconic.“A thousand bucks for a memory,” I joked.

Maybe that's how Kashmir changes – not all at once, but in small, personal reckonings. And maybe, just maybe, that traffic cop's photo was exactly what I needed.

• – The author can be reached at [email protected] .

MENAFN17042025000215011059ID1109443784