Car Horns May Now Be Dholak Horn

A hilariously satirical take on a recent proposal to replace car horns with Indian musical instruments. From traffic jam jugalbandis to tabla solos at toll booths, this humour-laced article explores the curious symphony of Indian roads gone musical.

In a turn of events so surreal it could only be real, a certain minister — whose name shall not be uttered here for fear of spontaneous harmonium solos breaking out — has decided that the solution to India’s traffic woes lies not in infrastructure, education, or enforcing basic road rules, but in changing the sound of the car horns. Yes, you heard that right, dear reader. Out with the harsh, blaring “BEEP-BEEP”, and in with the dulcet tones of dholaks, tablas, and, if you’re lucky, the occasional bansuri trill.

This groundbreaking, world-altering proposition was unveiled at the foundation day of a newspaper — because apparently newspapers need birthdays now — and immediately set the internet ablaze, much like a Maruti 800 left parked too close to a Diwali rocket.

According to the minister in question (who clearly binge-watched too many Bollywood musicals during lockdown), the idea is to make honking pleasant. Because what’s a little gridlock if it comes with background score? Why endure the standard commuter rage when you can engage in a full-blown raag Bhairavi at the intersection of Chaos and Despair?

Picture this: a Monday morning on Delhi Ring Road. You’re late for work, the heat is melting your will to live, and your AC has chosen violence. Suddenly, a nearby auto-rickshaw unleashes a tabla solo worthy of Zakir Hussain. Instead of cursing your fate, you tap the dashboard and murmur, “Nice taan.”

Of course, things could escalate. Imagine the mayhem: a sitar duel at a red light, flute vs shehnai at the toll booth, full-scale jugalbandi by the time you reach the office gate. One suspects traffic police may soon need music degrees from Benares Hindu University just to decipher who has right of way in a raag Yaman jam.

And what of the humble pedestrian, caught in the cross-rhythms of vehicular melody? Will they need earplugs or a dance partner?

Some citizens, ever the spoilsports, pointed out that horns are actually meant to warn, not serenade. A minor detail, really. Who needs functional traffic communication when we can have a national orchestra on wheels?

Others, positively dripping in sarcasm, offered practical alternatives: “Why not fine people for random honking?” they cried. But where’s the joy in that? Where’s the swara? Where’s the raga?

The proposal, though music to some ears (mainly those with no intention of driving again), has raised a pertinent question: has the government finally gone full Bollywood? Or is this a subtle bid to win the next elections via a surprise talent show — India’s Got Horns?

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Let us not forget, this is the same nation where a Delhi auto-rickshaw once asked, quiz-show style, “Traffic mein horn bajane se kya hota hai?” with multiple choice options. Spoiler alert: the correct answer was “D: Nothing.” Much like what this law is likely to achieve.

So as India proudly overtakes Japan to become the third-largest car market, we must now also brace ourselves to become the first nation where the overtaking comes with a bansuri solo in B-flat.

Move over, Beethoven. The traffic symphony of India is about to begin. And heaven help the drummer stuck in third gear.

At East India Story, we’re not just about what bleeds or leads. We’re about what inspires, surprises, and reminds us all that across mountains, cultures, —there’s more that connects us than divides us.