How Many More Lives?

Negligence is not an accident.

Every day, as we scroll through our phones, the same headlines appear.

Here — an accident.
There — an accident.
Another crash. Another death. Another excuse.

“Suddenly lost control.”
“Didn’t notice.”
“Unavoidable.”

But how many of these were truly accidents?

Let’s ask the question we all avoid — how many drivers were on their phones?

Texting. Scrolling. Replying to messages that could have waited.
Eyes down. Focus gone.
The road reduced to background noise.

I don’t ask this as a theory.
I ask this from experience.

“I was hit from behind in a traffic jam.
A young kid driving his parents’ car.
When I confronted him, he didn’t deny it.
He simply said, ‘Yes uncle, I was on the phone.’”

No fear.
No understanding.
No awareness that a few seconds of distraction could have ended lives.

And we still call this an accident?

A car travelling at 60 km/h moves almost 17 metres every second.
Look at your phone for just three seconds — that’s half a football field driven blind.

That is not fate.
That is a choice.

Even in places like Singapore — known for discipline, strict rules, and enforcement — when an accident happens, especially involving a child, the entire nation pauses.

And the questions surface quietly, painfully:

Was it negligence?
Was attention divided?
Was a phone involved?

Nobody wants to accuse.
Nobody wants to speculate.

But silence doesn’t save lives.
Avoidance doesn’t prevent the next death.

We talk about smart cities.
AI.
Digital transformation.

So where are the phone-detection cameras?
Why are they always “coming soon”?
Why is hands-free optional instead of enforced?

Why are penalties softer than the grief families carry for life?

To drivers:
Why is replying immediately more important than arriving safely?
Why can’t it wait?

To parents:
Why hand over car keys without teaching responsibility?
Why excuse behaviour that could destroy families in seconds?

To authorities:
How many more deaths before enforcement becomes real prevention?

Driving is not multitasking.
The road is not social media.
A steering wheel is not a phone holder.

This is not bad luck.
This is not destiny.
This is negligence normalised.

And that is the most dangerous part.

Until someone you love doesn’t come home.
Until a child’s room remains untouched forever.
Until a message gets answered — but a life is erased.

So let’s stop asking “what happened?”.
We already know.

How many more lives before we finally decide — enough is enough?

— Amarjeet Singh @ AJ