Whose Fault is It?

BANG!!!

The impact numbed my brain. For a few seconds, I couldn’t move. Impatient office-goers were furiously honking behind me, as I mindlessly yelled out of my now open window at the motorcyclist, who had braked suddenly, making me abruptly slow down.

A tentative glance at the rearview mirror showed me a brown Maruti Ritz that had rammed into my spanking new Honda Jazz. The motorcyclist escaped unscathed, thanks to my effective reflexes. Alas! The driver behind me wasn’t as sharp. I needed to get out to view the damage. But, the makeshift road “diversion” allowed cars to come head on, the other side of the road completely cordoned off for the infrastructural enhancement underway. Meanwhile, the traffic behind was building up.

As I gathered my scattered wits, and tried to pull over to the side, the gentleman who had banged my car seized the opportunity to sidestep and drove off! Wait a minute… I ain’t done yet, I silently screamed; but it was too late!

Temper soaring and abuses surging, I sped off behind him, careful not to let him out of my sight. I crossed the signal and managed to catch up, the other cars now out of my way. Paralleling him, and honking the life out of me, I gave him the dirtiest look I could contort. He pointedly ignored me. Entering the gate of Cybage, furious, I drove into the parking lot. And, to my astonishment, the brown Ritz came right in, behind me. He was a Cybagian! Whatever happened to courtesy to fellow employees was my dumb first thought!

I parked my car and rushed out, holding my breath, to view the extent of the damage. What I saw broke my heart into a million pieces. The proud, shiny trunk of my brand new car was dented beyond what I had imagined. Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at her, parked there in her resplendent glory, her beauty marred by a rash and brazen driver. I ran my fingers along the bumper.  The camera and sensors were ok. I nervously circled my car. Someone had spat paan on her back door, spotless silver now tainted with splats of dirty red. I was livid. For one, who has rules for people who sit in my car, such as no eating, no drinking, no dirty shoes, this was too much to handle.

I could not let him go so easily. I had to do something. I searched the parking lot for the perpetrator of my misery and located the culprit. Brown Ritz. Front fender hanging loose. Scratched bumper. This had to be it. Months of careful driving had been rammed into by a careless speedster. And for no fault of mine.

He owed me an apology.  I did a bit of digging and finally shot out an email to HR explaining the incident. It was investigated by the Admin team and we were called up to the Head of HR’s office for an ‘amicable settlement’. Or so I innocently assumed. 

The ‘gentleman’ far from accepting his mistake in fact accused me of framing him! “What proof do you have?” was his blatant argument. After 30 minutes of volleying back and forth, I knew his arrogance and ego would not bend before my simple request for an apology; compensation was a far-fetched notion.  I had no option but to concede. I didn’t want to involve the cops, nor did I want to stretch the matter any further. I had lost a battle, where all I was fighting for was acceptance of one’s mistake and an apology.

Although it ended there for our HR and Admin team, the inevitable internal strife began: it was now time for the painful but crucial personal analysis. Whose fault was it?

Was the local civic establishment at fault to have kept such a busy road only partially operational, leaving the public to fend for themselves? Perhaps it was my wrong decision to have taken the congested route, where I knew the road was under construction.  Was the motorcyclist to be blamed for braking suddenly? What about post the accident? If only I had kept my wits about me, reigned in my temper, got out of the car and clicked a picture of the accident, I’d have had proof. Is that what one does when in an accident? Flash out his phone to collate evidence? Wasn’t my reaction normal? Why then was I being denied justice?

This was all circumstantial and in hindsight; yet, the tirade of questions refused to abate. Wasn’t it expected that a tailing car maintains safe distance? After all, that’s what RTO rules state. And if he did bang me, what would it have cost him to own up to his mistake and apologize?! But then again, was it his fault to belong to a society that lives in constant fear? Fear of admitting the truth, of a messy involvement, of paying a heavy price, perhaps? Isn’t it just easier to slip away, and get on with life nonchalantly, as if nothing happened?

My thoughts wander to the broader concerns that often disturb me - is it alright for the fastest growing economy in the world, equipped with the youngest workforce, to thrive on steadily corroding moral foundations? Such skewed economic progress would surely paste an expiry date on our social consciousness... Is compromising on our ethics a great personal price we must pay as a nation that was once known for its value systems?

Advised by my well-wishers to just forget it and move on, I have reconciled for the time being and fallen back on what the majority would do. Accept that these things happen and there’s little one can do about it. Claim insurance, fix the damage, and shut my eyes. No point in fretting and fuming. But, I can’t stop thinking. Every time I drive across some bang-up on the road (which sadly, is quite often these days) I can’t help but ponder, “Whose fault could it have been?”