A young life cut short, another hanging in the balance, and a rider who chose flight over responsibility, the fatal crash on Chanapora Bridge in Srinagar is not an isolated mishap. It is yet another grim entry in Kashmir’s growing ledger of preventable road deaths, a tragedy that exposes not just one biker’s recklessness but a wider culture of impunity on our roads and the failure of institutions tasked with keeping them safe. According to officials, Imad Aijaz, a resident of Sebdan in Budgam and originally from Karnah, died on the spot after two motorcycles collided on the bridge. An 18-year-old woman, now lies injured after being rushed to hospital. The other motorcyclist is alleged to have fled the scene with his vehicle, leaving behind a dead body, an injured girl and a shattered family. This is not merely an accident; it is a crime against basic humanity. Hit-and-run episodes have become disturbingly frequent in the Valley. They flourish in an environment where speeding is normalised, traffic rules are treated as suggestions rather than laws, and enforcement oscillates between sporadic drives and long spells of indifference. The Chanapora crash forces an uncomfortable question: if the fear of law was real, would a rider dare to flee the scene of such a grave collision? Equally troubling is our social response. The public has grown desensitised to road carnage. Headlines about deaths on highways, bridges and urban stretches appear with numbing regularity, only to be forgotten once the next crisis arrives. Road safety is discussed briefly after a major tragedy and then quietly pushed down the priority list of both government and society. There is outrage, but little sustained pressure for structural change. The police have registered a case and launched a hunt for the absconding biker. That is the bare minimum. What is required is a visible, time-bound investigation, public disclosure of findings and exemplary punishment if culpability is established. Justice in such cases should not depend on public memory, which fades within days, but on an institutional resolve to make our roads safer and our laws meaningful. Beyond this specific case, the administration must treat road safety as a governance priority, not as a seasonal campaign. That means strict enforcement of helmet use and speed limits, calibrated surveillance on accident-prone stretches like bridges and narrow corridors, and prompt penalties for violations. It also demands better engineering of roads and junctions, improved signage and lighting, and regular safety audits, not just paper exercises. But laws and infrastructure alone will not suffice. Parents handing over powerful two-wheelers to untrained or immature riders, peers glorifying risky stunts, and public at large staying silent about habitual offenders all contribute to the this deadly culture of rash and irresponsible driving. Road safety must become a social value, not just a traffic rule. Chanapora Bridge should not be remembered merely as the site of yet another fatal crash. It must become a turning point. The absconding rider must be traced and held accountable, and the incident should trigger a sustained campaign against the everyday recklessness that stalks our roads. Each life lost to such preventable violence is an indictment of the state, of society, and of each of us who chooses silence over responsibility.
