Every time a supercar meets a divider, a footpath or a pedestrian in India, a familiar miracle occurs. The steering wheel, moments ago gripped by a young man with inherited wealth, is suddenly discovered to have been operated by someone else. Usually a driver.
A report in The Times of India on a Lamborghini crash in Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh, followed the now-reliable script – conflicting claims over who was driving. The details change, but the pattern does not.
The usual scapegoat
The explanation is always offered with a straight face. The driver, we are told, was behind the wheel of a machine that costs more than most people’s homes. The Kanpur tobacco baron’s heir was a passive passenger, bravely surrendering control of his prized toy to an employee paid to fetch groceries and ferry luggage.
This is where belief begins to strain. Anyone who has spent even five minutes around children understands ownership instincts. My neighbour’s seven-year-old does not allow my four-year-old granddaughter to touch his toy cars. Not the red one. Not the blue one. Not even the slightly scratched yellow one that no longer has all its wheels. And these are toys purchased with pocket money and parental negotiation, not generational wealth.
Yet we are asked to believe that a spoilt young petrol head, raised on entitlement and indulgence, voluntarily hands over the keys of a Lamborghini or Ferrari to his driver and sits meekly in the passenger seat.
A crash course in privilege
Luxury cars in India are not driven; they are performed. They announce arrival, lineage and liquidity. They are Instagram props, mating calls, and public declarations of success. No heir buys a supercar to be chauffeured in it. That is what SUVs and sedans are for.
The supercar exists for exactly one reason – to be driven by the owner, preferably fast and preferably at night. Which is why the sudden emergence of a scapegoat after every crash feels less like a coincidence and more like choreography. Lawyers discover new facts as a driver comes forward.
Wealth with an exemption certificate
Meanwhile, the car lies mangled, innocent bystanders count injuries, and the public is expected to suspend not just judgement but common sense.
This is not about one crash or one family. It is about a system that assumes wealth comes with an exemption certificate. Speed and ego have always been dangerous companions. The tragedy is the predictability of the aftermath – that someone expendable will be found behind the wheel.
Very rightly said. Privileged are privileged in our country