By Ojasvi Chauhan
At a petrol pump in East Delhi, a commuter is turned away. His car, a diesel model from 2014, has clocked just 38,000 km in a decade and has always passed its Pollution Under Control (PUC) test. Still, he’s denied fuel — not because his car is polluting, but because it’s over 10 years old. No warning. No prior notice. No room for appeal.
This is the lived reality of lakhs in the capital today, as Delhi enforces a blanket fuel ban on ‘end-of-life’ vehicles — petrol vehicles older than 15 years and diesel vehicles older than 10 years — starting July 1st, 2025. Posters have sprung up at fuel stations: “Fuel will not be dispensed to overage vehicles.” Behind them is a massive state apparatus involving police, transport officers, AI-driven ANPR cameras, and the threat of impoundment.
The policy claims to curb air pollution — a legitimate and urgent goal. But in its execution, this move reflects poor planning, zero empathy, and dangerous short-sightedness.
Pollution is Real. But So Is Poor Policy.
To begin with, let us acknowledge the crisis. Delhi is choking. According to a November 2024 analysis by the Centre for Science and Environment (CSE), vehicles contribute a staggering 51% of pollution from all local emission sources. In such a scenario, the Commission for Air Quality Management (CAQM) was right to push for decisive measures.
But fighting pollution doesn’t give the state a license to bulldoze logic, or to penalise people based on registration dates instead of emissions or usage. You cannot fix bad air with bad policy.
62 Lakh Vehicles, No Transitional Plan
Delhi alone has over 62 lakh registered vehicles. Of these, more than 9 lakh are now deemed illegal for refuelling, with crores more affected across the NCR — 27.5 lakh in Haryana, 12.7 lakh in UP, and over 6 lakh in Rajasthan. The Transport Department, Delhi Police, Traffic Police, and MCD are jointly manning over 350 petrol stations, with 498 fuel stations fitted with automatic number plate recognition (ANPR) cameras linked to the VAHAN database.
The enforcement is aggressive. But there was no trial run, no public awareness campaign, and no clarity on enforcement timelines. Petrol dealers themselves have flagged the gap. “A trial phase of 30 to 60 days could have helped. There’s fear of missing vehicles and being penalised. This should’ve been implemented simultaneously across NCR,” said Nischal Singhania, a fuel station owner.
Arbitrary Age Limits Ignore Reality
One of the most irrational parts of this policy is the 10-year and 15-year cut-off for diesel and petrol vehicles respectively, with no regard for actual vehicle condition. This blanket rule operates on the assumption that every diesel vehicle older than 10 years is necessarily more polluting — an assumption that is both technically weak and unfair.
Consider this: a diesel car that has been driven just 3,000 km a year — say, 30,000 km in 10 years — and that passes the mandatory PUC test, emits far less than a newer car that is poorly maintained or used extensively.
So why does Delhi continue to demand the PUC certificate if, in the end, it refuses to acknowledge its own pollution control framework?
By this logic, a well-maintained car is scrapped, while a newer, far dirtier one stays on the road. This policy disincentivises maintenance, penalises responsible vehicle ownership, and furthers a scrappage economy where logic is replaced by registration-year prejudice.
The Poor Are the Collateral
The human cost of this enforcement is neither speculative nor abstract — it is immediate and visible.
Auto-rickshaw drivers, goods carriers, last-mile delivery agents, e-rickshaw users, two-wheeler riders from economically weaker backgrounds — all depend on older vehicles. A 12-year-old diesel van isn’t a pollutant to them — it’s a livelihood. And it is these people who are being stranded at petrol pumps while those driving newer SUVs with higher fuel consumption pass through unbothered.
There is no compensation, no scrappage incentive, and no viable alternative transport infrastructure in place. This is pollution control without social justice, and the state must not pretend otherwise.
NCR-Wide Coordination Is Missing
Another structural flaw is that this policy has not been synchronised across NCR states. While Delhi moves to restrict overage vehicles, Haryana, Uttar Pradesh, and Rajasthan still permit them — leading to a logistical nightmare for people and enforcement agencies alike.
Will an auto driver from Ghaziabad be stopped at a Delhi fuel station? Will his vehicle be impounded because he didn’t follow a law that doesn’t exist in his home state? The answer is unclear.
Without region-wide coordination, such measures only confuse and alienate citizens instead of helping them comply.
Enforcement Over Education
Perhaps the most telling failure is the complete absence of citizen outreach. There were no mass awareness campaigns before implementation. No community engagement. No vernacular communication. No SMS alerts. No time for transition.
People have not been informed — only penalised.
This is governance by surveillance, not service. The deployment of ANPR cameras, backed by VAHAN cross-verification and impounding threats, reveals a state that is more interested in policing vehicles than preparing its people.
A Smarter, Fairer Way Forward
Yes, Delhi needs cleaner air. But clean air cannot come at the cost of unthinking enforcement, economic devastation, and technocratic arrogance.
A better approach would have involved:
•A phased rollout with proper warning and trial periods.
•A fitness- and emission-based evaluation, not age-based bans.
•Real scrappage and replacement incentives.
•Region-wide coordination across NCR.
•And most of all, respect for the people who live and work on Delhi’s roads.
Policy must not just deliver outcomes — it must uphold fairness. If the goal is cleaner air, then the path must also be clear, just, and compassionate.
Until then, this fuel ban remains what it currently is: a clean air policy, choking on its own contradictions.
