Delhi’s new law draws the ire of car owners
In India, private cars are not merely four-wheeled vehicles but are also considered members of the family. Many Indians even give their beloved cars names. Cars are not only a source of pride for families but also a symbol of hard work, making them an embodiment of the philosophy of “repairing until it can no longer be repaired.” This is why the fuel ban imposed by the Delhi government on 1 July for old vehicles has clashed head-on with the middle class, who have a deep emotional attachment to their private cars.
Under the fuel ban imposed by the Commission for Air Quality Management (CAQM), refuelling is prohibited for petrol vehicles over 15 years old and diesel vehicles over 10 years old. The ban comes with hefty fines, with violators required to pay 5,000 rupees (US$58) for two-wheeled vehicles and 10,000 rupees (US$116) for four-wheeled vehicles. As expected, this policy immediately ignited the anger of India’s middle class. Although the policy was postponed until 1 November due to technical issues and protests, the controversy continues to simmer.
Why has an environmental policy sparked such an “explosive” backlash? The answer lies in the Indian cultural mindset of “repairing instead of replacing”—much like my absurd experience years ago at Indian customs being questioned about transporting “new books.” Delhi car owners are also asking: Who defines when my car is “old”?
“Repairing Instead of Replacing”: India’s Jugaad Philosophy
Indians value thrift. In India, the lifespan of an item is not determined by its age but by how much longer it can be used. This “repair instead of replace” Jugaad culture, rooted in resource scarcity and pragmatism, is deeply ingrained in Indian daily life. From two-wheeled motorcycles to heirloom cars, Indians excel at using ingenuity and repairs to keep items “forever young.” On the streets of Mumbai, one often sees Parsi-maintained classic cars from over a century ago speeding by. The Indian Air Force is decommissioning its Soviet-era MiG-21 fleet in September this year after the aircraft served for 62 years, undergoing repairs and modifications throughout its service in India.
So, when the ban was announced, social media platforms were flooded with Indians sharing their anger. One car owner said his 16-year-old Mercedes-Benz E280 V6 “runs smoother than a new car,” yet the government’s ban effectively sentenced it to “death.” Another complained, “My car just passed emissions testing—why can’t it be used?”
This cultural mindset is ubiquitous in Indians’ consumption choices. When buying a phone, Indians prioritise “affordability and durability,” with a focus on large batteries, durable builds, and longevity—ideally lasting five to six years. According to Counterpoint Research data, in India’s 2024 smartphone market, “durable models” priced between US$150 and US$250 were the most popular. Similarly, private cars are the culmination of a lifetime’s savings for the middle class and low-income groups, typically purchased through loans, with the expectation of using them for 15 years or even longer. However, this fuel ban has rendered 6.2 million vehicles (4.1 million two-wheelers and 1.8 million four-wheelers) “scrap” overnight (in fact, Delhi lacks the space to handle such scrap vehicles), shattering owners’ expectations and crossing a cultural line: why can’t these perfectly good vehicles be repaired and used?
“Old Cars” or “New Books”? The Absurdity of Definitions
The core controversy of the fuel ban lies in the definition of “old vehicles”: petrol vehicles over 15 years old and diesel vehicles over 10 years old must be banned from refuelling. This standard stems from rulings by the National Green Tribunal in 2014 and the Supreme Court in 2018, aimed at reducing Delhi’s severe air pollution (motor vehicles contribute 28% of PM2.5 and 78% of nitrogen oxides). But the question arises: Does vehicle age fully represent pollution levels?
A survey by LocalCircles, a social media platform focused on urban governance, found that 80% of Delhi vehicle owners believe pollution control certificates (PUC) tests should be the standard, rather than a blanket age-based criterion. Sachin Taparia, founder of LocalCircles, stated, “A six-year-old diesel vehicle with 300,000 kilometres on the odometer emits more pollutants than an 11-year-old diesel vehicle with 30,000 kilometres.” Avik Chattopadhyay, founder of INDEA (Indian Institute of Design), also criticised the “entire methodology for determining vehicle lifespan as flawed.” He emphasised that “vehicle application, maintenance, and mileage should be the determining factors.”
This reminds me of an unusual encounter I had at Indian customs several years ago. After finishing my studies abroad, I wanted to send the large number of books I had purchased back to my home country, but I was stopped by a customs official. The official’s reason was that there were “new books” inside, and according to Indian law, new books cannot be sent. If I couldn’t provide an invoice, I would be treated as violating the law (in reality, he was trying to extort money from me). I retorted, “How do you define a new book?” The official replied, “If it looks new, it’s a new book!” This subjective logic, bordering on the absurd, parallels the fuel ban. Car owners questioned: Why should a well-maintained old car be labelled as ‘polluting’? Some mocked, “The government is using the car’s age as a judge, and the PUC certificate is worthless!” Not to mention the technical flaws in the Automatic Number Plate Recognition (ANPR) system—camera recognition errors and unintegrated databases—which are essentially a rehash of the “if it looks old, ban it” approach.
Cultural Clashes and Policy Blind Spots
The original intent of the fuel ban is understandable: Delhi’s air pollution poses a threat to public health, and older vehicles (pre-BS-VI standards) are particularly severe emitters. However, the policy’s “one-size-fits-all” approach ignores India’s cultural realities. The middle class views cars as a symbol of social status, while low-income groups rely on two-wheelers for their livelihood. The ban has rendered their assets and livelihoods worthless overnight. The scrappage subsidy (only 1–3%) is far from sufficient to purchase new vehicles, and the nation’s 38 scrappage facilities are unable to handle the 6.2 million vehicles. Worse still, Delhi’s fuel ban is not synchronised with the National Capital Region (NCR), allowing vehicle owners to still refuel in Delhi’s satellite cities of Noida or Gurgaon, creating a “black market fuel” risk—reminiscent of customs “extortion.”
For this reason, Delhi government officials can no longer sit idly by. Delhi Environment Minister Sirsa wrote to CAQM, stating that the ban was “premature and counterproductive,” and suggested replacing the vehicle age standard with emissions testing. Chief Minister Rekha Gupta bluntly criticised the policy as unfair to the middle class, while Lieutenant Governor (L-G) V K Saxena even called it “irrational.” Public anger erupted on social media, with one car owner sarcastically remarking: “The government is forcing us to take out loans to buy new cars, but luxury SUVs are exempt. What kind of environmental protection is that?” Delhi’s opposition party, the AAP, seized the opportunity to accuse the BJP of “acting hastily,” pushing the ban into the political spotlight.
Where Do We Go From Here?
In response to the protests, the fuel ban has been postponed until 1 November 2025, at which point Delhi’s fuel ban will also apply to the five National Capital Region (NCR) areas. For now, the government has pledged not to immediately impound vehicles and is exploring new emission-based solutions. On 25 July, Delhi Environment Minister Sirsa stated that the Delhi government may file a review petition with the Supreme Court seeking to overturn the order prohibiting diesel vehicles over 10 years old and petrol vehicles over 15 years old from operating in the National Capital Region (NCR).
Currently, the public is calling for more scientifically sound PUC testing, vehicle purchase subsidies, and expanded scrap facilities to balance environmental protection with economic realities. However, the likelihood of completely revoking the ban is low—legal rulings and pollution pressures leave no room for compromise.
Perhaps India needs a touch of Jugaad ingenuity: retrofitting old vehicles to meet standards, extending the transition period, or offering incentives for electric vehicles like in Tamil Nadu. Otherwise, the clash between policy and the “repair instead of replace” culture will only continue to fuel public discontent.
Just as I used wit to expose the logic behind “new books” at customs, Delhi car owners are also using protests and lawsuits to seek fairness. Indians love to repair cars, phones, and anything else that can be repaired. This resilience is not only a reflection of their culture but also a weapon against crude policies. Will the next chapter of the fuel ban be compromise or confrontation? Who knows? Maybe November will bring another round of turmoil. Just wait and see.