When a Car Has No Name

Asem Mustafa Awan

Islamabad: It is not speeding, not jumping a red light, not even breaking the most visible traffic rules. The violation is more basic — the absence of identity.

On roads across Sindh, a car without a number plate can move through traffic in broad daylight, unchallenged and unnamed. Around it, thousands of ordinary citizens are fined daily for minor infractions: lane discipline, tinted glass, a few kilometres over the limit. Their violations are recorded instantly. Their penalties are unavoidable.

But some vehicles pass untouched.

This is where traffic enforcement quietly breaks down. Not because of a lack of cameras or manpower, but because of selective intent. Surveillance systems capture what they are allowed to capture. Personnel stop whom they are permitted to stop. The system functions — just not equally.

A vehicle without registration is not a minor offence. It erases accountability. It cannot be traced after accidents, crimes or hit-and-runs. Yet such vehicles continue to exist openly on Sindh’s roads, often in the presence of traffic police. The message is unmistakable: there is an invisible hierarchy on the road.

Authorities frequently cite billions of rupees collected through e-challans as proof of reform. But enforcement that applies downward and weakens upward loses credibility. When the law appears absolute for the many and negotiable for the few, governance gives way to theatre.

This is not only a Sindh problem. It exists across Pakistan. And until identity itself is enforced without exception, the law will remain less a net for all and more a fragile web — strong enough to trap the weak, yet easily torn by those with power.