There is something disturbingly ordinary about the way we have learned to live amidst disorder. Every day we step over trash, honk at red lights, spit on pavements, and watch a thousand small acts of civic indifference unfold as if they were the natural rhythm of life. What is worse is that we barely flinch anymore. The lack of civic sense in Indian society is not a problem that arrived overnight. It is an epidemic that has slowly infected our national consciousness.

Even after decades of development, our basic sense of civic responsibility is shockingly lacking. It is a strange paradox. A country that can send missions to Mars cannot keep its streets clean. People who take pride in their temples, mosques, gurdwaras, and churches have no problem leaving garbage outside these places of worship. People who complain loudly about issues in society will still throw wrappers, plastic, or leftover food onto the streets without a second thought.

The tragedy of India’s civic decline is not that we do not know better. It is that we simply do not care.

Civic sense is not taught in classrooms. It is absorbed through the environment, through imitation, through what we see others doing. And when what we see around us is chaos, we begin to normalize chaos. Children grow up watching their parents argue with traffic cops, bribe officials, litter streets, and disregard queues. By the time they reach adulthood, the idea of civic discipline feels alien, even foolish. Everyone does it this way becomes the ultimate justification. And that one sentence, casual, defensive, shameless, is the root of half our social rot.

Step outside any Indian city and you are greeted by the same landscape of neglect. The stench of open drains. The reckless swirl of traffic where rules are mere suggestions. The walls stained red by paan spits. The loudspeakers that blare into the night with no thought for the old or the sick. There is a violence in this indifference, a quiet cruelty we inflict on one another in the name of convenience and habit. And it is this violence, invisible and internalized, that corrodes the very idea of community.

We like to say India is a land of contradictions, as if that makes the dysfunction poetic. But there is nothing poetic about apathy. Civic sense is not about Western manners or imported etiquette. It is about respect. Respect for shared space. Respect for the unseen other. Respect for the simple fact that public property belongs to everyone. When we throw garbage on the road, we are not just dirtying the street. We are announcing to the world that we do not believe in the idea of collective responsibility.

Why do we behave this way? Part of the answer lies in our relationship with authority. For centuries, power in India has flowed top down from kings, emperors, and colonial masters to bureaucrats and politicians. The common citizen never saw public property as his own. It was always the government’s. The street was not ours; it was theirs. And so, when we spit on it or litter it, it feels like an act of rebellion, not vandalism. It is as if we are taking back control, one careless act at a time.

But rebellion without purpose is destruction. What we destroy, ultimately, is our own dignity.

And yet, every once in a while, we see glimpses of what could be. A small town that organizes a cleanliness drive and actually sustains it. A group of school children planting trees by a dusty roadside. A traffic cop standing for hours in the rain without losing his patience. These moments remind us that civic sense is not beyond us. It is merely buried beneath layers of cynicism and learned helplessness.

Government initiatives have tried to ignite a national conversation about cleanliness and civic pride. And while they have managed to bring sanitation to the headlines, it has failed to reach the deeper rot, the moral laziness that makes us think someone else will always clean up after us. Civic responsibility cannot be built through slogans or photo-ops. It has to be built in the home, on the street, in the tiny choices we make every single day.

It is not just about litter or traffic or noise. Civic sense is a reflection of our moral and emotional intelligence as a people. It shows how much we value coexistence. When we jump queues, drive on the wrong side, or leave our waste for others to clean, we are declaring that we matter more than the collective. We are, in essence, saying my convenience is greater than your discomfort. And that mindset, multiplied by a billion, becomes the chaos we see around us.

There is anger in me when I see this. Anger not just at those who litter or break rules, but at how willingly we accept it all. We have become a society that adjusts to everything, filth, noise, corruption, delay, disrespect. We call it resilience, but often it is just resignation dressed up as virtue. We have forgotten that true progress is not measured by skyscrapers or GDP numbers, but by how we treat the space we share with one another.

We need to relearn shame. Yes, shame, the moral discomfort that tells us something is wrong. We need to feel embarrassed when we see someone urinating in public or tossing trash from a bus window. We need to stop finding excuses for bad behavior and start demanding decency from ourselves before we demand it from others.

And those who already practice civic sense, do not withdraw in disgust. Do not give up because you are outnumbered. Lead by example, even when no one is watching. Because influence, like apathy, spreads quietly. The discipline of one person can awaken the conscience of ten.

India stands at a pivotal point today. We dream of becoming a global superpower, but the foundations of that dream are cracking under the weight of our own neglect. A nation that cannot respect its streets, its public spaces, its shared air, can never truly command respect in the world. Civic sense is not a small issue. It is the measure of our civilization.

So, the next time we see a wrapper on the road, or hear the blare of an unnecessary horn, or notice the rule being broken right before our eyes, we have a choice, to look away or to care. And every time we choose to care, even in the smallest way, we reclaim a piece of the nation we were meant to be.

Civic sense is not a rulebook. It is a mirror. And right now, that mirror reflects a society in decay. But it can also reflect renewal if we dare to look closely and change what we see.

© Greater Kashmir