In Mumbai, the relentless cacophony of car horns has become as much a part of daily life as the city’s legendary humidity. For millions who traverse its crowded streets, the constant honking is not just background noise—it’s a defining feature of the urban experience, one with growing consequences for public health, safety, and quality of life.
On a recent August afternoon, NPR conducted an informal survey at a bustling intersection near its Mumbai bureau. The results were staggering: 27 distinct honks pierced the air in just one minute at 3 p.m. Traffic constable Vikas Rahane, stationed on the afternoon-to-evening shift, wasn’t surprised. “It’s the peak-hour evening traffic that gets you,” he explained, referring to the gridlock between 5 p.m. and 8 p.m. He predicted that the honking would only intensify as the evening wore on. Rahane’s experience is far from unique; he and his fellow officers have endured not just frayed nerves but also sleep disturbances and, in some cases, hearing loss due to the city’s non-stop noise.
Indian regulations empower officers like Rahane to fine drivers up to $25 for excessive or unnecessary honking. Yet, enforcement is sporadic at best. Subhash Shinde, a senior officer, put it bluntly: “In the order of priorities, this one [honking violations] would rank somewhere between six and 10.” With the daily chaos of Mumbai’s roads, most officers are too busy managing traffic flow and pedestrian safety to worry about noise infractions. As a result, the city’s soundscape continues unabated.
And what a soundscape it is. A 2019 study found that Mumbai’s average noise levels regularly top 80 decibels—comparable to the constant drone of a vacuum cleaner and well above the World Health Organization’s recommended maximum of 55 decibels. According to NPR, this puts Mumbai’s streets on par with some of the busiest corners of Manhattan, but with a twist: here, the omnipresent honking is compounded by round-the-clock construction, from roadworks to new housing projects. The resulting racket can reach levels akin to a rock concert, with some horns reportedly blasting at 120 decibels or more.
Why do Mumbai’s drivers honk so much? Many say it’s a necessity. Sumaira Abdulali, founder of the Awaaz Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to fighting noise pollution, explained the paradox to NPR: “Many people here believe it’s impossible to drive without honking because if you don’t honk, no one will move out of your way. Whereas the fact is when everyone’s honking, no one moves out of your way anyway.” In other words, the constant barrage of horns often leads to more standstills, not smoother traffic.
But it’s not just the frequency of honking that’s rising—the volume is, too. Standard-issue horns are now widely considered inadequate for Mumbai’s traffic jungle. Drivers of all stripes—bikes, rickshaws, taxis, and especially SUVs—are turning to the CST Road marketplace in suburban Mumbai, a sprawling hub for automobile spare parts. Here, hundreds of shops line the street, their wares spilling onto the pavement. Among the most sought-after items are aftermarket horns, especially the high-pressure “pom pom” variety.
Noor Mohammed, a shopkeeper at CST Road, has witnessed the boom firsthand. “Pedestrians don’t listen if you use the ‘ti ti.’ They make way when you use the high-pressure pom pom horns,” he told NPR. These horns, which cost less than $10 and can last more than a year depending on use, have become bestsellers. The demand is so high that a cottage industry of horn reviewers has emerged online, with many enthusiasts specifically praising the thunderous horns found in models like the Hyundai Creta. Gagan Choudhary, founder of the automobile news site Gaadify, noted that carmakers and motorbike manufacturers have responded by making their horns louder and punchier, often with more bass, to cut through the din inside and outside the vehicle.
International manufacturers have also taken notice. Mercedes-Benz, in a statement to NPR, acknowledged that “horn usage in India is often more frequent and serves as an essential communication tool on the roads… That is why their car horns for India are slightly adapted for enhanced durability.” Other automakers have quietly followed suit, tailoring their products to withstand—and contribute to—the city’s sonic onslaught.
Yet, for all the technological adaptations and consumer enthusiasm, the impact on road safety has been negligible. India continues to record more than 150,000 traffic fatalities every year, with the numbers trending upward. The louder the horns, it seems, the less they contribute to actual safety.
In the face of mounting evidence about the dangers of noise pollution, some officials have proposed creative—if controversial—solutions. A few years ago, Nitin Gadkari, India’s road and highways minister, suggested replacing traditional vehicle horns with those that play the sounds of Indian classical instruments, such as the flute, harmonium, or violin. The idea, he argued, was to make the city’s soundscape “gentler on the ear.”
Environmentalists were quick to object. Abdulali, the Awaaz Foundation founder, dismissed the proposal as a recipe for chaos. “I can only imagine what’s going to happen when you have various types of music blaring because somebody is bored or unhappy.” Instead, she insists, the only way forward is to treat noise as a pressing public health issue, enforce existing laws, and foster a greater sense of civic responsibility among drivers and pedestrians alike.
The stakes are high. According to Abdulali and other advocates, the relentless noise is more than just an annoyance—it’s a genuine threat to well-being. From hearing damage among traffic officers to sleep deprivation across the population, the effects ripple through the city’s fabric. And with construction projects showing no signs of slowing, the problem is likely to get worse before it gets better.
For now, Mumbai’s residents must navigate not just the city’s crowded roads but its ever-present soundscape, a relentless reminder of the challenges—and contradictions—of urban life in one of the world’s most dynamic megacities. As Abdulali continues her campaign for quieter streets, she sums up the city’s predicament with a touch of irony: she’ll keep raising her voice, hoping that someone hears her above the din.