By Sujit Bhar
In a recent order that resonates with millions of daily commuters, the Bombay High Court delivered a crucial reminder to the Indian Railways: standing near the door of a suburban train during peak hours is not negligence—it’s survival. The single-judge bench of Justice Jitendra Jain refused to buy the railway authority’s predictable argument that the victim in a 2005 Mumbai suburban rail accident was responsible for his own death because he was standing on the footboard. The Court’s stance wasn’t merely legal; it was grounded in the lived realities of everyday Mumbai.
The case pertained to a man who fell from a crowded train on October 28, 2005, while travelling from Bhayendar to Marine Lines on the Western Railway line, and later succumbed to his injuries. The Railway Claims Tribunal had in 2009 granted compensation to the victim’s family. But the Union government—characteristically—appealed, arguing negligence and even questioning whether the victim was a bona fide passenger simply because no ticket was found on his body.
Justice Jain dismissed these arguments with clarity: the conditions on Mumbai’s suburban trains leave commuters with no choice. A Virar-Churchgate train at peak hours is a moving mass of human bodies, and at Bhayendar, boarding itself is an achievement. Standing at or near the doorway is not a choice, nor a thrill-seeking act. It is, as the Court stated emphatically, “the only way to travel for work” for lakhs of daily wage earners, salaried employees, and students who have no alternative.
The judgment pointed out an uncomfortable truth: “This is a situation even today.” Two decades after the incident, the Bombay High Court could repeat the same line verbatim without exaggeration. That is perhaps the gravest indictment of the system.
A DECADE OF NEGLECT
Over the past decade, India has witnessed a significant rise in the number of rail passengers, particularly in suburban and short-distance segments. Yet the infrastructure—tracks, platforms, signals, carriages, and safety systems—has barely kept pace. While the Railways proudly rolls out Vande Bharat trains, premium luxury services, and costly high-speed corridors, the vast majority of Indians, especially in metropolitan areas, continue to rely on outdated and overstressed infrastructure.
The conditions inside many suburban coaches—especially in Mumbai—remain cramped, poorly ventilated, and ill-maintained. Broken handles, worn-out footboards, malfunctioning doors, and overcrowded compartments are silently accepted as part of the daily grind.
The priority of the Railways appears clear: showcase modernity at the top end while ignoring the crumbling backbone of the system. In the face of this institutional neglect, accidents—small and large, daily and catastrophic—have become the norm.
Mumbai’s suburban network, arguably the busiest in the world after Tokyo, ferries nearly eight million passengers every single day. Yet its trains are still far from adequate in number, speed, safety, or design. Commuters continue to cling to the edge of doors because the railways refuses to acknowledge the scale of demand.
THE BROKEN COMPENSATION SYSTEM
Every time a major railway accident occurs—whether a derailment or a stampede—the response from the centre or the concerned state government is immediate and drama-
tic: crores announced in compensation. Ministers rush to the spot, cameras in tow, accompanied by the solemn ritual of ex-gratia payments. These gestures make for good headlines, but the public seldom learns how much of that money actually reaches victims.
At the same time, routine compensation claims like the one decided in the Bombay High Court drag on for years, even decades. Families already devastated by loss find themselves battling an indifferent bureaucracy. In this case, the accident took place in 2005; the tribunal order was issued in 2009; and the government appeal kept the family waiting another 15 years.
The Railways’ approach to compensation is riddled with contradictions:
It promises generously but pays grudgingly.
It announces large figures, but obstructs small claims.
It acknowledges systemic failures during crises, but denies those same failures in court.
To argue, as the Railways did, that the victim was not a bona fide passenger simply because his ticket wasn’t found in the aftermath of a fatal fall, is both routine and deeply insensitive. The Court rightly rejected this logic, noting that it cannot be presumed that the absence of a ticket automatically means the victim travelled unlawfully.
Mumbai’s suburban rail network is the beating heart of the city. It is the reason the Mumbai metropolitan region can function at all. Yet, despite its indispensability, infrastructure upgrades have been minimal and painfully slow.
Accidents—ranging from track-bed failures to station stampedes, from collapsing footbridges to fatal falls during boarding—have become disturbingly frequent events in the past decade. The tragic footbridge collapse at Elphinstone Road station remains etched in public memory, but numerous smaller collapses and structural failures occur with alarming regularity.
Despite these incidents, serious investment in bridges, platforms, signalling, or carriage design remains scant. Even basic crowd-control measures, such as dedicated entry/exit points or additional escalators, are rolled out years after they are sorely needed.
Yet, when the time comes to compensate victims of this systemic failure, the Railways adopts a defensive, adversarial posture. It challenges legitimate claims, argues technicalities, and denies responsibility until courts compel it to act.
The Bombay High Court’s judgment exposes this hypocrisy. A system that refuses to expand capacity or upgrade safety infrastructure cannot, in good faith, accuse a commuter of negligence for trying to board or travel in an impossibly crowded train.
WHAT IS THE WAY OUT?
The Court’s order, while comforting in principle, does not resolve the underlying crisis. It simply reiterates the human reality that the railways refuses to engage with. So what must change?
1. A Fundamental Safety Issue: Recognise overcrowding as a fundamental safety issue, not a commuter fault. The Railways must finally acknowledge that overcrowding is an infrastructural failure. The law must reflect this. Safety standards should be recalibrated to account for realistic passenger loads, not outdated theoretical limits.
2. Expand Capacity Urgently: Mumbai (as well as other metropolitan cities of the country) needs more trains, better frequency, and improved signalling that allows shorter headways. Existing platforms need widening, and additional coaches must be attached where possible. The focus should shift from cosmetic upgrades to functional enhancements.
3. Invest In The Basics: These include footbridges, platforms, and coaches. Modernising trains is important, but not at the cost of ignoring suburban lifelines. Upgrading footbridges, replacing ageing carriages, installing automatic doors, improving lighting, and modernising ventilation should be prioritised.
4. Create A Transparent Compensation Framework: Compensation should not depend on litigation or appeals. A standardised, transparent system must ensure automatic payment in clear-cut cases. Appeals should be used sparingly, not as a weapon to delay. Most importantly, such compensation should be transparent, public and done with alacrity.
5. Data-driven Decision Making: Crowd data, commuter flow patterns, and accident statistics should be made public. Policy must follow evidence, not assumptions. Mumbai’s suburban system is too vital to be governed by guesswork.
6. Independent Safety Audits: A neutral rail safety authority must audit suburban lines annually and publish findings. Accountability cannot rest solely with the Railways.
7. Long-term Reimagining Of Urban Transit: Beyond trains, Mumbai needs an integrated transport model: metro lines, bus rapid transit, water routes, and last-mile connectivity. Overreliance on a single system is unsustainable.
A MORAL STATEMENT
The Bombay High Court’s order is not just a legal victory for one family—it is a moral statement about the daily dangers faced by millions. It forces the Indian Railways to confront an uncomfortable truth: its refusal to invest, modernise, and adapt is costing lives, and hiding behind claims of “negligence” is no longer acceptable.
India deserves a railway system that values human life over technicalities. The commuters of Mumbai, who literally keep the city alive, deserve trains that do not turn everyday travel into a gamble with death. Until the Railways stops treating victims as adversaries and starts treating its own failures seriously, accidents will continue—and so will the long fight for justice.
The way out is clear. The only question is whether the Indian Railways is willing to take it.
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