Greater Noida tragedy: It was state apathy, not a road accident, that took a young professional’s life

His car had fallen in a deep water-filled pit at an under-construction site. Road visibility was negligible as his car reached a right-angle turn with a flimsy barricade and no reflectors, despite complaints about this hazard. Dense fog concealed what governance should have prevented.

Mehta survived both the crash and splash. He was only minutes away from home. He climbed onto the roof of his slowly submerging car, switched on his phone’s flashlight and called his father for help. His father rushed to the site. Police arrived, as did the fire services . Emergency calls multiplied. Rescue teams were informed. Yet, for nearly 90 minutes, nothing happened.

Out in the cold, Mehta kept crying out for help. His father watched helplessly as the state stood still. This was not a case of absence. It was a case of paralysis.

Police officers cited lack of equipment. Rescue personnel cited cold water and submerged iron-rod hazards. Teams waited for other teams. Responsibility was deferred. The National Disaster Response Force eventually arrived. Even then, no rescue began. The fog had reportedly kept responders, nearly 80 of them at various points, from diving in.

The car kept sinking. Mehta’s voice grew weaker. Finally, it was a civilian—a delivery worker passing by—who tied a rope around his waist and descended into the water pit. He searched until he found the car. By then, Mehta was lifeless. The body was recovered nearly five hours after the accident. For the first 90 minutes, Yuvraj was alive.

This detail matters for his death was not inevitable. It is tempting to label such deaths as tragic mishaps—products of fog, bad luck or urban chaos. But there is sufficient reason to suppose that Mehta did not drive recklessly. He drove into negligence, falling victim to a chain of human decisions that left a deep construction pit open next to a road-turn, let repeated complaints go unheeded with no barricade reflectors installed and then deployed responders without equipment or protocols that led to a wait superseding action as rescuers opted for fear over duty.

Accidents are sudden. This was prolonged abandonment. If a citizen can stand on top of his car for 90 minutes, calling for help and still be left to die, then the system did not fail accidentally but structurally. This case forces a big question: How much is a human life worth in India when no VIP convoy is involved and no election is at stake?

The tragedy in Greater Noida fits a grim pattern. Children dying under collapsing sports infrastructure, patients succumbing in rat-infested government hospitals, electrocutions during routine waterlogging, bridges collapsing without warning, toxic cough syrups killing children and construction hazards swallowing commuters. These should be treated as symptoms of a malaise rather than isolated incidents.

India’s urban governance has mastered optics—expressways, summits, rankings—but struggles with fundamentals: safety audits, signage, enforcement and emergency response. We celebrate GDP growth numbers, but growth without governance is cruelty with spreadsheets.

Proper barricades and reflectors were installed only after Mehta lost his life. First information reports (FIRs) have been registered against builders, the Noida Authority CEO has been suspended and a Special Investigation Team has been ordered.

But accountability cannot begin after a body is recovered. It must exist before a pit is dug, before a road is opened and before lives are put at risk. The Noida Authority must answer why a known hazard remained unprotected. Police, fire services and disaster response agencies must explain why standard rescue protocols failed. Municipal and planning bodies must explain how enforcement collapsed in a high-profile urban corridor. Suspensions are not the answer. We need a system rehaul.

Saving Mehta would have taken basic competence, not heroism. A father stood in the cold, listening to his son drown while the state seemed paralyzed. This image should haunt anyone who believes Indian institutions are functioning as intended.

When nearly 80 responders are present and a man still dies calling for help, questions of responsibility need to arise thick and fast. The social contract between citizen and state rests on a simple promise: in moments of crisis, the state will act. That promise was broken.

This is a story about far more than the tragedy of one family. It is about every citizen navigating poorly maintained roads, open construction sites and fragile systems. Today it was Mehta. Tomorrow it could be anyone driving home in fog, rain or darkness.

India’s ambition to be a global power cannot rest on GDP figures alone. A nation is judged not by how it performs on stage, but by how it responds when citizens need help. Until accountability replaces apathy, no level of growth can compensate for lives lost.

Yuvraj Mehta’s death should not be remembered as an accident. It was not.

The author is a technology and social entrepreneur from IIT Kharagpur and tweets as @ipravinkaushal.