Drink, Drive And Kill, Another Pune Porshe In Making- Probably This Time The Judiciary Will Ask Him To Write A More Lengthy Essay!

In a country that proudly claims to have the world’s largest democracy, there is an odd irony. We build magnificent courts, appoint intellectual persons in black robes, and make volumes of laws that could fill a library—yet justice remains as impossible as an honest politician.

The recent tragedy of Drink, Drive And Kill in Vadodara and earlier Pune aren’t merely “accidents”; they’re the predictable outcomes of a judicial system that has perfected the art of failing those it’s meant to protect.

Let me take you through this theater of the absurd, where drunk drivers kill innocent mothers and walk away with homework assignments; where wealth transforms guilt into inconvenience, and where justice isn’t blind—it just has an extraordinarily good sense of who can afford to pay for its attention.

The Vadodara Tragedy: Another Script Following a Familiar Plot Of Pune Porshe Case

Yesterday’s events in Vadodara read like a script we’ve seen performed countless times before. A mother—whose only “crime” was venturing out to buy colors for her child—had her life violently ended by a student from Varanasi who was so intoxicated he couldn’t distinguish between a human being and an obstacle. As her body lay on the asphalt, this beacon of responsibility allegedly stumbled out of his vehicle shouting “Another round!” and calling for someone named “Nikita.”

Let that sink in for a moment. While a child watched their mother die, the perpetrator’s primary concern was continuing his drinking spree.

If this sounds disturbingly similar to the Pune Porsche case, that’s because it is. The case is of Different actors, but same tragic play, and identical disappointing ending. These aren’t isolated incidents; they’re symptoms of a justice system that has elevated ineffectiveness to an art form.

The Indian Judicial Magic Trick Where Consequences Are Not Scaring The Wrong Doer!

Now, let’s appreciate the magnificent disappearing act our judiciary performs whenever wealthy or connected individuals commit crimes. It’s truly a spectacle worth documenting that how corrupted our judiciary is!

First comes the ballet of bribes—an elegant dance in judiciary where money changes hands with all the subtlety of a silent film. The police suddenly develop amnesia about evidence. Medical reports mysteriously transform blood alcohol levels from “dangerously intoxicated” to “had one sip of communion wine.” Public prosecutors become master orators when arguing for bail and develop severe speech impediments when presenting the case.

Then comes the masterpiece—the judicial delay. Cases move through our courts with the urgency of a sloth swimming through molasses. Witnesses mysteriously change testimonies. Evidence vanishes like morning mist. And after a few decades—yes, decades—the case concludes with punishment so light it would make a feather seem heavy by comparison.

“Write an essay about road safety.” Truly, what brilliant rehabilitation for someone who ended a life! Perhaps next time we could ask murderers to craft a haiku about the value of human existence?

The Question No One Wants to Answer: Are We Complicit?

Here’s the uncomfortable truth we must confront: we’ve created a society where following the law is seen as optional for those with resources. We’ve normalized a system where justice isn’t just delayed—it’s redesigned, repackaged, and resold as something entirely different for those who can afford the premium version.

When we see these patterns repeat themselves—Vadodara today, Pune yesterday, somewhere else tomorrow—we express outrage on social media, perhaps attend a candlelight vigil, and then return to our lives until the next tragedy demands our temporary attention.

But what about the families permanently altered by these “accidents”? What about the child who will grow up without their mother because someone decided their desire to drink was more important than her right to live? What consolation does our judicial system offer them? An essay? A fine? The vague assurance that “justice will be served” even as they watch the perpetrator walk free?

Is This A False Action If Someday, WE, THE PEOPLE OF INDIA choose Mob Justice, As There Is Hardly Any Justice From Judiciary!

Some might read this and think I’m advocating for vigilante justice—for angry mobs to take matters into their own hands. I’m not. The suggestion that our only options are either ineffective courts or violent streets represents a failure of imagination so profound it’s almost impressive.

What I am advocating and asking from judiciary is accountability—real, meaningful, inescapable accountability. A judicial system that doesn’t treat wealth as a get-out-of-jail-free card. Police forces that investigate crimes rather than investigating how much they can extract from perpetrators. Courts that recognize that justice delayed is, indeed, justice denied.

Is it truly radical to suggest that someone who kills while driving drunk should face serious consequences? Is it unreasonable to expect that our judiciary should prioritize protecting innocent lives over protecting the privileged?

Is There Any Learning Opportunity, Only If We’re Willing to Learn?

Each of these tragedies offers us an opportunity to examine the failings of our system and implement meaningful changes. Yet somehow, we manage to learn absolutely nothing, time and time again.

Perhaps we could start by acknowledging that our current approach isn’t working. When the wealthy, priviledged and connected view potential legal consequences as minor inconveniences rather than serious deterrents, something is fundamentally broken.

The intellects of society and judiciary might set up specialist tribunals to handle cases involving fatalities caused by carelessness or drunkenness, guaranteeing that they are addressed in months, not decades. They might impose mandatory minimum penalties for vehicular murders involving drunkenness. They also might establish a system of legal advocates dedicated to representing victims’ families and ensuring their voices are not faded out by pricey defense lawyer.

However, these reforms need political will (which is again dicey), public pressure, and a widespread reluctance to accept the existing status quo. They challenge us to choose justice above convenience and to expect more from our institutions.

What Is The True Cost of Our Failed System?

The most heartbreaking aspect of this ongoing failure isn’t just the lives lost—though each one represents an incalculable tragedy. It’s also the message our judiciary sends to society: that some lives matter less than others, that wealth can wash away responsibility, and that our grand ideals of equality before the law are just that—ideals, with little relationship to reality.

Every time a drunk driver kills someone and receives a punishment by our esteemed judiciary more appropriate for a parking violation, we tell potential offenders that the risk is worth taking. Every time we allow cases to drag on for decades, we tell victims’ families that their suffering isn’t urgent enough to address. Every time wealth or connections subvert justice, we chip away at the foundation of trust that allows a society to function.

The mother in Vadodara didn’t just lose her life to a drunk driver; she lost it to a system that has proven, repeatedly, that it values the comfort of perpetrators over justice for victims.

Until we’re willing to confront this reality—until we demand meaningful reform rather than performative outrage—we’ll continue reading about these “accidents.” We’ll continue watching as drunken drivers walk free. And we’ll continue failing those who deserved our protection.

The question isn’t whether our judiciary is failing—the evidence for that is overwhelming. The question is whether we care enough to fix it before another mother goes out to buy colors for her child and never returns home!