Odisha has a settlement scheme for pending e-challans, and at first glance it looks like the Bihar one — a cut-off date, six months to use it, a table of offences. Then you read the table. Six rows say “50%”. Eleven rows say a rupee figure instead. The rupee figure is never half of anything; it is, every single time, the exact minimum the Motor Vehicles Act itself prescribes for that offence. Seventeen rows, no exceptions. This is a state showing you, line by line, the point at which it stops being allowed to reduce.
Eleven state pages have been circling one question: how far can a state go in cutting what you owe on a traffic challan? Every page has had a piece of the answer and none has had a demonstration. Odisha supplies the demonstration. Its settlement annexure is not a policy statement about reductions; it is seventeen individual decisions, and when you line them up against the wording of the Act, every single one falls exactly where the Act allows it to fall and not a rupee further.
The document is headed Government of Odisha, Commerce and Transport Department, Notification, numbered TRN-POL-RT-0002-2024, issued at Bhubaneswar and signed by Usha Padhee, Principal Secretary to Government.
It opens, as printed, with a line that carries a typographical slip we have not corrected:
“Road safety safety remains a paramount concern for India and Odisha. Despite numerous measures implemented by the Government, the number of challans issued for motor vehicle law violations has not yet reduced to desired levels, highlighting ongoing challenges in ensuring compliance and safety on our roads.”
One Time Settlement Scheme notification, Commerce and Transport Department, Odisha — as printedFour things define the scheme’s reach, and all four come from the document:
The annexure has five columns, headed exactly: Sl. No., Section of MV Act, Offences, Amount of penalty prescribed under MV Act, and Amount to be paid by the defaulters after exemption. Here it is in full, with our own colour added to the last column so the two kinds of answer separate at a glance.
Rows where the Act gives only a ceiling: may extend to. No floor, so there was
room to come down and the scheme took half.
Rows where the Act fixes a minimum: not less than. The scheme lands on that
minimum exactly — never below it, and never calculated as a percentage.
| Sl. | Section | Offence, as printed | Penalty prescribed under the Act | To be paid after exemption |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 177 | General Offence | may extend to Rs.500/- | 50% |
| 2 | 177A | Rules of Driving regulation violation | Not less than Rs.500/- and may extend to Rs.1000/- | Rs.500/- |
| 3 | 178 | Travel without ticket 3(b) | may extend to Rs.500/- | 50% |
| 4 | 179(1) | Disobedience of order of authorities | may extend to Rs.2000/- | 50% |
| 5 | 179(2) | Refuse to supply information willfully. | may extend Rs.2000/- | 50% |
| 6 | 182-B | Oversized vehicles | Not less than Rs.5000/- and may extend to Rs.10000/- | Rs.5000/- |
| 7 | 183(i) | Driving LMV with excess speed | Not less than Rs.1000/- and may extend to Rs.2000/- | Rs.1000/- |
| 8 | 183(ii) | Driving HMV/MMV Passenger with excess speed. | Not less than Rs.2000/- and may extend to Rs.4000/- | Rs.2000/- |
| 9 | 184(a) | Jumping Red Light | Not less than Rs.1000/- and may extend to Rs.5000/- | Rs.1000/- |
| 10 | 184(b) | Violating Stop Sign | Not less than Rs.1000/- and may extend to Rs.5000/- | Rs.1000/- |
| 11 | 184(c) | Using Mobile phone while driving | Not less than Rs.1000/- and may extend to Rs.5000/- | Rs.1000/- |
| 12 | 184(d) | Overtaking at no overtaking zone | Not less than Rs.1000/- and may extend to Rs.5000/- | Rs.1000/- |
| 13 | 184(e) | Driving against Flow of Traffic | Not less than Rs.1000/- and may extend to Rs.5000/- | Rs.1000/- |
| 14 | 184(f) | Driving in any manner that would be dangerous | Not less than Rs.1000/- and may extend to Rs.5000/- | Rs.1000/- |
| 15 | 186 | Driving when mentally or physically unfit. | may extend to Rs1000/- | 50% |
| 16 | 190(2) | Violating Air and Noise Pollution | may extend to Rs.10000/- | 50% |
| 17 | 192 | Using vehicle without Registration | may extend to Rs.5000-, but not less than Rs.2000/- | Rs.2000/- |
The offence wording, the punctuation and the occasional missing full stop are the annexure’s own. “may extend Rs.2000/-” at row 5 and “Rs1000/-” at row 15 are printed that way.
We did not go looking for a rule. We transcribed the table, then read the fourth column against the fifth to see whether anything was inconsistent, and the rule fell out of it.
Sort the seventeen rows by how the fourth column is worded and there are exactly two groups. Six rows describe the penalty with a ceiling alone — may extend to. All six of those sit at fifty per cent. Eleven rows describe it with a floor — not less than. Not one of those eleven is at fifty per cent, and every one of them is at the floor figure itself.
Seventeen out of seventeen. There is no row that breaks it, no row that goes below a stated minimum, and no row where a minimum existed and was halved anyway.
Because of what the two kinds of drafting actually do.
When Parliament writes that a penalty may extend to a figure, it has set a maximum and left everything below it open. A state deciding to take half is operating inside a space Parliament deliberately left open.
When Parliament writes not less than, it has done the opposite: it has fixed a floor, and the floor is the part of the provision that carries the policy. Taking less than that is not using a discretion; it is changing what Parliament decided. Motor vehicles is in the Concurrent List, and a state law that conflicts with a central one needs the President’s assent under article 254 to survive. No settlement scheme carries that.
So the annexure reads the way it does not because somebody was being cautious with money, but because somebody drafting it worked through each provision and asked what was theirs to give away. That is unusually careful work and it deserves to be noticed.
Row 17 is the one that settles the argument. The fourth column reads, as printed, “may extend to Rs.5000-, but not less than Rs.2000/-”. Both limits in a single cell.
If the scheme were applying a flat discount, that row would read a thousand rupees more or less automatically. It reads two thousand — the floor. The ceiling in the same sentence is simply ignored for the purpose of the figure.
You cannot get that outcome by accident. It is the only row in the table where the drafter had to choose between two numbers written side by side, and the choice went the same way as every other row.
Section 184 fills six of the seventeen rows: jumping a red light, violating a stop sign, using a mobile phone while driving, overtaking in a no-overtaking zone, driving against the flow of traffic, and driving in any manner that would be dangerous.
The Act treats all six identically — not less than a thousand rupees and up to five thousand — so the annexure lands all six on a thousand. It is worth being clear about what that means for a reader. A thousand rupees is a fifth of the five-thousand ceiling, which looks like an eighty per cent discount and is nothing of the kind. It is simply the lowest figure the section permits.
The practical point is that a mobile-phone challan and a dangerous-driving challan settle at the same figure here, even though most people would expect the second to cost far more. The Act does not distinguish them, so the scheme cannot.
Section 190(2), violating air and noise pollution requirements, which the Act allows up to ten thousand rupees. The settlement takes fifty per cent, which on the ceiling is five thousand — the largest single reduction in the table.
It was available precisely because that provision has no floor. Compare it with section 182-B, oversized vehicles, where the ceiling is also ten thousand but there is a five-thousand minimum: the scheme stops there and can go no further.
Two offences, the same maximum, and the state can halve one and not the other. That is the whole argument of this page in two rows of a table.
Five hundred rupees, at section 177A, described in the annexure as violation of the rules of driving regulation. The Act sets it at not less than five hundred and up to a thousand, so the floor is half the ceiling and the two readings coincide.
That coincidence is worth flagging because it is the one row where you could look at the figure and conclude the scheme was applying fifty per cent. It is not; it is applying the floor, and the floor happens to be half. Section 183(i) does the same thing. Those two rows are why the pattern has to be read off the wording rather than off the arithmetic.
What makes this page’s central finding remarkable is the care behind it: seventeen rows gone through one at a time, with the scheme stopping at the statutory minimum on eleven of them and never once going below it.
Meghalaya gets to the same place with one sentence. Its notification requires compounding at not less than fifty per cent of the maximum fine prescribed — and because Parliament, drafting the 2019 ranges, tended to set minima at half the maxima, that formula lands on the statutory minimum automatically. On section 183(1) it lands there exactly, to the rupee, on both vehicle classes.
Two routes to the same discipline. Odisha’s took a human being checking every row in 2025. Meghalaya’s was written in 2011 and has needed nobody since.
The sharpest thing we could say about the scheme on this page is that it reduces amounts by half and never once states the provision it is issued under. We report that as a fact and we do not say the scheme is invalid, because we are not qualified to.
It is worth knowing what the opposite looks like. Himachal Pradesh has a fifty per cent settlement for offences on Shimla’s sealed and restricted roads, and it is in the penalty section of a state Act passed by the legislature: a fine of two thousand rupees compoundable on the spot for one thousand, and three thousand compoundable for fifteen hundred. Exact halves, twice, in primary legislation, with the rank of officer who may do it written in alongside.
Two states, the same arithmetic, and completely different legal standing. One is a six-month scheme with no power on its face; the other is permanent and in an Act. If anyone offers you a fifty per cent settlement anywhere in India, that is the question to ask: under what instrument?
This page is about a government that would not settle below the Act’s minimum, on eleven rows out of seventeen, without a single exception. It is the clearest evidence in this series that the floor is real and that somebody was watching it.
Assam is what the other end looks like. Writing twenty-five days after the 2019 amendment, it took the Act’s full figure on every one of its eighty-eight rows — not a rupee of discount anywhere, including a thousand rupees for a helmet and twenty thousand plus two thousand a tonne for an overload.
Between the two of them, and with Telangana’s proviso capping the fee at the maximum fine in the penal section, three governments have now described the whole range a compounding figure is allowed to occupy — and none of them set out to describe anything.
Read a table like this for what it contains and you learn one thing. Read it for what it does not contain and you learn something else, and in this case the absences are more striking than the entries.
Not in the annexure, despite being among the most commonly issued challans in India:
Only the last of those has an obvious explanation. Section 185 is outside the compounding machinery altogether, so there was never anything for a scheme to reduce. The other seven are compoundable in states that publish schedules, and they are missing here.
One reading is deliberate policy: a government willing to discount paperwork and procedural offences, and unwilling to discount the ones that put a person in hospital. On that reading the absence of helmet, seat belt and insurance from the list is the most important thing in the document, and nobody reported it.
The other reading is simply that the annexure covers the categories that make up the bulk of the pending electronic challans at RTO level, and those happen to be these seventeen.
Nothing in the notification says which. What a reader needs to take away is narrower and certain: if your challan is for a helmet, a seat belt, insurance or a licence, it is not in this annexure, and no reduction follows from this scheme for it.
Row 3 is section 178, which the annexure describes as “Travel without ticket 3(b)”. It is worth stopping on, because it is the one row that is not about a driver at all.
Section 178 deals with travelling in a stage carriage without a ticket, and with a conductor who fails to issue one. The person liable is the passenger or the conductor, not the owner of the vehicle and not whoever was at the wheel.
That makes it an odd fit in a scheme framed around e-challans pending against vehicles at RTO level, and we cannot tell you how such a challan comes to be pending electronically in the first place. We are flagging it because if a section 178 entry appears against your registration number, the first question is not what it costs. It is why it is attached to your vehicle.
Row 15 is section 186: driving when mentally or physically unfit to drive. The Act allows up to a thousand rupees and no minimum, so the scheme takes fifty per cent.
The arithmetic is unremarkable and the entry is not. A person issued a challan under section 186 has been recorded as unfit to be driving, and the consequence available in law is five hundred rupees under a settlement.
That is not Odisha’s doing. The thousand-rupee ceiling is Parliament’s, and it is one of the lowest in the Act — lower than using a mobile phone, lower than a stop sign. The state could not have charged more under this scheme than the Act allows in total.
We are pointing it out because this page has spent a lot of words admiring the drafting, and an honest page should also say where the result is uncomfortable. A fitness problem behind a steering wheel is not a five-hundred-rupee problem, whatever the schedule says.
Two states, two settlement schemes, two completely different pieces of drafting.
Fifty per cent across the board, by gazette notification, Cabinet-approved, arrived at after a writ petition and under the High Court’s supervision.
Overloading written out of it by name. Simple to announce and simple to understand.
Offence by offence, with the reduction set by what each provision permits. No court involved that we could find.
Nothing excluded by subject — the only exclusion is procedural, where a prosecution report has already gone to court.
Our Bihar page sets that scheme out with the orders behind it. The contrast is not that one state was more generous. It is that Bihar made a single decision and Odisha made seventeen.
Delhi was reported in September 2024 to be compounding at fifty per cent, and our Delhi page carries that with a caution, because we could not obtain the instrument behind it.
Set the three together and a question appears that none of the reporting ever asks: a flat fifty per cent, applied honestly, would have to go below the statutory minimum on every section 184 offence. Either those schemes are not reaching those sections, or the headline is doing something the instrument does not. We cannot answer that for Delhi or Bihar from the documents we have. We can say Odisha did not have the problem, because Odisha did not write a flat percentage.
Since the Karnataka page, these pages have carried an explanation: a fine fixed by Parliament is beyond a state’s reach, while a compounding amount is expressly the state’s to set. It explains the whole of September 2019, when a dozen states “cut fines” and the newspapers reported it as something no state could lawfully do.
Until now that has been an argument we assembled from enabling clauses, a parliamentary provision and a constitutional article. It was correct and it was abstract.
The Odisha annexure is the same argument written by a government, applied to seventeen real offences, with the line drawn in a visible place on every one of them. Nobody set out to prove anything; somebody simply drafted a scheme properly, and the drafting shows the limit.
And a second state has since supplied the other half. Telangana publishes its own section 200 notification, and at the foot of the schedule it writes the limit down rather than demonstrating it: the compounding fee for an offence shall not exceed the maximum fine prescribed in the relevant penal section. Odisha shows a state refusing to go below the Act’s floor; Telangana states that it will not go above the Act’s ceiling. Two governments, two drafting styles, the same boundary described from opposite sides. Our page on a challan in Telangana reproduces that notification in full.
Having said all that, here is the thing the document does not do. It does not cite a single section. There is no in exercise of the powers conferred by recital anywhere in it.
It is not necessarily a defect. A government deciding not to press for the full amount it could claim is not always exercising a named statutory power; executive decisions of that kind are taken without a recital all the time.
But for a reader it leaves a real gap. If a department later says a particular challan is outside the scheme, the first thing you would normally do is read the power and see what it permits. Here there is nothing to read. The scheme defines its own reach and nothing above it defines the scheme.
We are reporting this as a fact about the document. We are not suggesting the scheme is invalid, and we are not qualified to.
The copy published on the department’s own website does not carry a legible date. The header runs “Bhubaneswar, dated the” and then the scan defeats us. Memo markings suggest mid-September and a news report of 10 September 2025 describes the scheme as launched.
That matters more here than it would elsewhere, because the scheme runs for six months from the date of issue. Without the date there is no way to work out when it closed, or whether it is still open. If you intend to use it, establishing that date is the first step and not an afterthought.
The scheme reaches e-challans pending as on 31 July 2025. Two words in that phrase do the work.
Pending means unpaid and still with the department. A challan already paid is not pending and there is no refund mechanism in the scheme for one that was.
As on 31 July 2025 fixes a date in the past, which is the opposite of how people usually read a scheme announced in September. A challan issued in August 2025 is newer than the cut-off and is therefore outside it, even though it is older than the scheme.
One sentence decides whether the scheme reaches your matter at all:
“The Challans in respect of which Prosecution Reports (PR) has been submitted to designated Courts will not come under the purview of the Scheme.”
One Time Settlement Scheme notification, Odisha — as printedOnce a prosecution report has gone to a designated court, the matter has left the department’s hands. A court is seized of it, and an administrative scheme does not reach into a pending prosecution.
Here is the difficulty for a reader: nothing on your challan tells you whether this has happened. The challan was issued long before any prosecution report. The only way to know is to ask the department, naming the challan number and the registration number, and to get the answer in writing. That single question decides which page of this site is relevant to you.
A settlement petition is the document that does steps three to seven in one place: it identifies the challans, states why each is inside the scheme, applies the annexure row by row, and arrives at a figure the department can either accept or dispute in writing.
Odisha has also notified its maximum speed limits, and that document is on the same website. It comes from a different office — the Transport Commissioner-cum-Chairman, State Transport Authority, Odisha, Cuttack — and it is issued under section 112 of the Act, which is the power to fix speed limits.
The number and the date on that notification are handwritten on the copy published and we could not read either with confidence, so we are not printing them. The table itself is clear.
| Class of motor vehicle, as printed | 4-lane and above divided carriageway | NH & SH through municipal / NAC area | Other NH & SH |
|---|---|---|---|
| Not more than 8 seats besides the driver (non-transport) | 100 | 50 | 60 |
| Not more than 8 seats besides the driver (transport) | 80 | 50 | 60 |
| Nine or more seats besides the driver (transport and non-transport) | 80 | 40 | 60 |
| Vehicles used for carriage of goods | 60 | 30 | 50 |
| Motor cycles | 60 | 40 | 50 |
| Three-wheeled vehicles (passenger or goods) | 40 | 30 | 30 |
All figures are kilometres per hour. The class descriptions are the notification’s own, shortened here only in the sense that we have not reproduced its spacing errors.
In eleven previous states we have had one half of this and never both. Some states told us what an offence costs and never what the limit was. Others gave structure and no figures at all.
Odisha gives both, from two different offices, under two different sections. Section 112 is the power that says what the limit is. Section 183 is what exceeding it costs, and the settlement annexure prices it at a thousand rupees for a light motor vehicle and two thousand for a heavy or medium passenger vehicle.
Put them together and you can answer the question people actually ask, which is not “what is the fine” but “was I even over the limit”. On a four-lane divided carriageway in a car that question has a published answer: a hundred.
Look at the middle column again. A national or state highway passing through a municipal or notified area council limit drops to 50 kmph for a car, 40 for a motor cycle, and 30 for a goods vehicle or a three-wheeler.
That is the half of the table that generates challans. A driver who has been doing a hundred lawfully on a divided carriageway enters a town on the same road, with the same road markings and often the same surface, and the lawful speed halves. The road does not change. The legal character of the stretch does.
This is also where an automated camera is most likely to be, for the obvious reason that it is where the limit changes. If a speeding challan has arrived and the location is a highway stretch inside a municipal limit, the figure in the notification is the one that applies rather than the highway figure.
A third document on the same site records something that turns out to matter a good deal: “Motor Vehicles Taxes and Fines to be collected digitally throughout the State”. An arrangement was signed on 15 October 2018 between the transport department and a bank, putting card payment into transport offices and onto handheld devices used at roadside enforcement.
It names Sanjeeb Panda, IPS, then Transport Commissioner and State Transport Authority, and the bank’s regional head for Odisha.
Hold that 2018 date next to something from our Bihar page. In May 2026 the Patna High Court, supervising the traffic challan arrangements in that state, had to direct in terms that challan amounts are not collected in cash and that online payment facilities be made available.
Odisha arranged the same thing for itself eight years earlier, without litigation and without a court saying so. We are not holding one state up against another to score a point — Bihar had its own history and its own volumes. But a reader deciding how much weight to give a state document is entitled to know which administrations moved on their own.
There is a practical consequence too. In a state where fines have been collected by card at the roadside since 2018, a demand for cash is out of step with the state’s own arrangements, and that is a reasonable thing to say out loud.
Three documents, two addresses. The settlement scheme comes from the Commerce and Transport Department at Bhubaneswar. The speed limits come from the Transport Commissioner-cum-Chairman, State Transport Authority at Cuttack.
For a reader that is not trivia. A letter about the settlement scheme goes to the department; a letter about a speed limit, a permit or an enforcement question goes to the State Transport Authority. Sending it to the wrong one does not lose your rights, but it costs a round of post at a time when a six-month window is running.
The copy of the Orissa Motor Vehicles Rules 1993 we could reach begins at Chapter I, Preliminary. No preamble, no notification number, no recital of the sections the rules were made under.
Which means the one check these pages run on every state — is section 200 among the powers the rules were made under? — has nothing to run against here. Odisha is the fifth state to defeat it, after West Bengal, Karnataka, Gujarat and Uttarakhand, and all five failed in precisely the same way: the available copy simply starts at rule 1.
The running total, after twelve states. Tested, and section 200 absent every time — seven: Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh, Haryana, Bihar (and Jharkhand, which runs on Bihar’s rules), Maharashtra, Tamil Nadu. Could not be tested — five: West Bengal, Karnataka, Gujarat, Uttarakhand, Odisha.
The result is now firm enough to state as a working rule. Compounding amounts are never kept in a state’s motor vehicles rules. They live in a standalone instrument, issued by itself, and in most states that instrument is not published in any form a reader can open. That is why these pages keep running into the same wall, and why hunting through the rules for the price of an offence is looking in the wrong book.
Three different things, and this page has all three in view at once.
The annexure is interesting precisely because it shows the third kind of decision bumping against the first kind of limit. Our Karnataka page works through the first two at length, because that is where the argument happened in public.
We do not know, and this page does not guess. Odisha’s everyday compounding notification — the one that would say what a helmet offence or a document offence costs today, outside any scheme — is not something we could obtain.
The seventeen rows above are settlement figures for challans already pending. They are not a price list for tomorrow, and reading them as one would be a mistake. If a figure on a current challan cannot be tied to a provision, the way to establish it is to ask: an RTI application for the compounding notification in force, with its number and date.
In S. Rajaseekaran v. Union of India, 2026 LiveLaw (SC) 1007, decided on 28 September 2026, the Court took up unpaid electronic challans across the country.
“We also direct that let there be random checking of the vehicles and if it is found that the e-challan issued has not been abided or honored, necessary steps shall be taken to impound the vehicle itself.”
S. Rajaseekaran v. Union of India, 2026 LiveLaw (SC) 1007, 28 September 2026The consequences the Court was willing to see attached to non-payment run well past the money: online transport services frozen, a registration renewal or a duplicate certificate withheld, fitness refused, a transfer blocked, and a licence renewal suspended where violations have piled up. Not one of those is a penalty in the Act. Each is an ordinary service being made conditional on the entry being cleared.
A settlement scheme and that approach are the two halves of one problem. One offers a way to clear the backlog cheaply; the other makes leaving it uncleared expensive in a way that has nothing to do with the amount.
The notification does not pretend otherwise. Having offered the reduction, it says the department will “intensify enforcement measures against repeat offenders and individuals unwilling to improve their road safety behaviour”.
That is an unusually direct sentence for a government document and it is worth taking at face value. The reduction is open for a fixed period and the stated intention afterwards is the opposite of leniency. Whatever else is unclear about this scheme, that part is not.
Section 194 does not appear in the annexure at all, so Odisha’s position on overloading is not something this page can state. Four states in this series have gone four different ways on that provision and nothing in the central Act required any of them to.
What is in the annexure is section 182-B, oversized vehicles, at the five-thousand floor. That is a different thing — a vehicle built or altered beyond permitted dimensions rather than one carrying too much — and the two get confused constantly. If a challan says 182-B, the question is the vehicle’s dimensions; if it says 194, the question is the load.
Section 185 is not in the annexure and could not have been. It sits outside the compounding machinery everywhere in India, which means there is no amount for any scheme to reduce and no counter at which to close it. The matter is prosecuted, a magistrate decides, and the licence consequence follows the conviction. Our page on drink driving cases follows that sequence.
The scheme is state-wide and so are the speed limits, which are set by road type rather than by district. What changes with the place is which Regional Transport Office holds the challan, which matters here more than usual because the scheme is framed around challans pending at RTO level.
Nothing we found gives any Odisha city its own schedule or its own rank floor for compounding. That is a contrast with Rajasthan, where the rank differs inside the Jaipur and Jodhpur Commissionerates.
Nothing on this page reaches an impoundment. The scheme is about money owed on challans; a seizure runs on the criminal procedure code, the officer who orders release is a magistrate, and the timing was reworked when that code was recast. Settling a challan does not produce a vehicle. The application and the periods are on our vehicle release and superdari page.
Find out which of three things happened first, because they do not share a remedy: a court disqualifying on conviction, a licensing authority acting on its own motion, or a renewal withheld because violations have accumulated. We could not read the appeal provisions in the Odisha rules, so this page cannot tell you which officer hears the second of those — that is an honest gap and we have listed it below. Our page on licence suspension deals with the court route and the administrative one.
The grounds are the national ones, and all three are worth asking separately: whether the electronic notice carries what the law requires it to carry, whether it reached you inside the period for service, and whether the authority holds a valid certificate for the device that produced it. Our page on disputing a challan works through each.
For Odisha add one more, which is peculiar to a speeding challan here: which stretch of road was it, and which of the three columns in the speed table applies to it? A figure taken from the highway column on a stretch inside municipal limits, or the reverse, is a question of fact worth putting in a written reply.
A Lok Adalat records settlements; it does not create discounts. In Odisha the discount already exists in the scheme, which is the more useful arrangement — you are not depending on a sitting being held. Where a scheme and a Lok Adalat overlap, the figure comes from the scheme and the Lok Adalat is simply the counter. Our page on Lok Adalats explains what an award there binds you to and what it does not.
Rather than list the twelve again, here is what twelve pages of looking has actually produced, grouped by the kind of document that turned up. The grouping is the finding.
And the thing none of the twelve has: a current, readable, dated compounding notification that an ordinary person can open and check their challan against. Twelve states, twelve attempts, and that document has not surfaced once. Everything these pages contain has been assembled around its absence.
All three Odisha documents on this page come from the transport department’s own website. That is the most direct source any page in this series has had: not a reproduction, not a law portal, but the department publishing its own notifications.
The annexure was transcribed row by row rather than summarised, and the pattern described above was found by reading the fourth column against the fifth afterwards. We state it as something we measured across seventeen rows, not as a principle we brought to the table.
Where the scan defeated us — the scheme’s date, the speed notification’s number and date — we have said so and printed nothing. The typographical slips in the notification are reproduced as printed, because correcting a quotation silently is not something a page like this gets to do.
The challan list with dates and sections, because the cut-off turns on dates. Anything in writing about a prosecution report. The receipt, naming the scheme rather than just an amount. The registration number exactly as printed. For a speeding challan, the location as recorded, because the applicable limit depends on it. And the case number if a court has the matter.
Everything that reads the same in Bhubaneswar as in Delhi has been kept off: the definitions, what a prosecution looks like once a magistrate has the file, the rules on electronic notices, the licensing chapter and the law of seizure and release. Each has its own page here, linked above where it arises. What is left is Odisha’s own — a settlement annexure that shows where a state’s power runs out, a speed table that lets you check the premise of a speeding challan, and a department that went cashless before a court anywhere told it to.
When a prosecution report has gone to a designated court, because the scheme no longer reaches that challan and a court does. When the department says a challan is outside the scheme and the dates say otherwise. When a permit, a fitness refusal or a transport business is exposed rather than one vehicle. Not for working out which column of the annexure applies to you, which is arithmetic and a letter.
Two things, and neither of them is practising law. We draft documents, and we operate a directory in which describing a problem costs nothing.
On this page that is usually one of three things. A settlement petition that lists the challans, shows why each is inside the scheme and applies the annexure row by row. A written reply where the challan itself is wrong, or the wrong speed column has been applied. Or an RTI application for the scheme’s date and the compounding notification in force — the two documents this page most wanted and could not get.
Court work is for your advocate, whose fee is engaged and paid by you directly; we do not quote, collect or share it.
There is no charge for asking, and none for being put in front of an advocate. A document’s price sits on its own service page where you can see it before deciding, and nothing we are paid comes out of an advocate’s fee. One thing particular to this page: if the challans you are holding add up to less than the document that would settle them, we will say so and you should ignore us. A settlement petition earns its cost on a stack of pending challans, not on one.
Three states have now printed a composition rate in their own rules, and all three measure delay differently. Karnataka counts months. Tamil Nadu uses bands of days. Uttarakhand counts weeks — and sets the rate by what you drive. Rule 45: one rupee a week for an invalid carriage, five for a motor cycle, fifty for everything else — and a proviso capping the lot at ₹100. So a lorry hits the ceiling in a fortnight and an invalid carriage takes two years. Unlike Tamil Nadu, transport vehicles are in. Also here: the first appeal fee printed anywhere in eleven states (₹20 and ₹25), the Deputy Transport Commissioner (legal and tribunal), and a year in which challans rose 118.77% while collections rose 37.07%.
ReadTen states in, and this is the one that is open about exactly one half of itself. Tamil Nadu publishes no compounding amounts for road offences and no officer schedule — and then prints four composition rates inside its own rules, which almost nobody is ever shown. Rules 98, 105-A, 109 and 113: a late registration, a transfer not reported, a new registration mark, a change of address. ₹40 up to thirty days, ₹75 to sixty, ₹100 after — and ₹150 in the top slab of rule 113 alone. Each rule says the money is taken in lieu of any action under section 177, which no other state spells out. Also here: the enabling clause cites a section 311 that does not exist in the Act, rule 98 quietly leaves transport vehicles out, the founding notification carries no date, and section 200 is absent for the seventh time in seven tests.
ReadNine states in, the range has turned out to be enormous — and Gujarat sits at the bottom of it. Chief Minister Vijay Rupani announced the cuts on 10 September 2019: triple riding at ₹100, where West Bengal takes ₹1,000 and three months of your licence. Helmet and seat belt ₹500. A pollution offence ₹1,000, where Bengal takes ₹10,000 with a disqualification. Ten times, for the same words in the same Act. Then on 4 December 2019 the Transport Minister announced helmets would be optional except on highways and panchayat roads — we print what was said, flag that we could not find the notification, and say plainly that this is no reason to ride without one. Also here: rule 107, the first appeal procedure we have been able to read in nine states, and rule 98A’s thirty-day grievance clock for app aggregators.
ReadTwo things, and the first one saves money today. Rules 37 and 45 of the Karnataka Motor Vehicles Rules still compose a late registration renewal and a late transfer intimation at twenty-five rupees a calendar month, capped at one hundred rupees — figures written in 1989 and never updated, and the two lapses vehicle owners get caught by most. We quote both rules in full. The second thing is bigger: Karnataka is where somebody asked out loud whether a state may cut a traffic fine. The Centre said yes on 11 September 2019, Karnataka took legal opinion, cut on 21 September, and the Centre then said states had no authority at all. Both were right about different things — a state cannot touch the fine a court imposes, but section 200 gives it the compounding amount. That distinction is the key to every other state page on this site, and this is where it surfaced.
ReadEvery state publishes what you can pay. Maharashtra is the only one that also published what you cannot — a list of nine non-compoundable offences. Two of them are things your neighbours let you settle for money: driving without a permit (₹10,000 in both Jharkhand and West Bengal) and overloading (₹20,000 plus ₹2,000 a tonne in Jharkhand). Here there is no amount at all — a court decides, both the driver and the owner are charged, and a repeat permit offence carries a minimum three-month sentence. The same document shows a Police Constable as the compounding authority for about 95 of 104 offences, the lowest rank floor of any state we have examined and the exact opposite of Bengal. Its money is from 2016 and stale, it is still sitting on a government server, and we say so.
ReadFive states in, every page had a hole — Haryana told us who may issue a challan but never what it costs, Jharkhand the reverse. Bengal prints both halves in one notification. Schedule I names who may compound, and for oversized vehicles under section 182B that is the Director of Transport alone, one officer for the whole state. Schedule II runs to twenty-six rows and six columns, because Bengal is the only state that prints the section you broke and the section you are charged under separately — which makes a challan testable on its face. We reproduce both schedules. Then overloading, which is deliberately left out: it runs on its own notification that suspends the permit on a second offence and cancels it on a third, with the registration suspended behind it. Also: a ₹10,000 figure where Jharkhand charges ₹1,000, three rows where a licence disqualification rides along with the payment, a rule 349 that may crack our five-state pattern, and a police page still quoting superseded notifications.
ReadA District Transport Officer in Patna wrote that traffic challans could not be taken up at a National Lok Adalat. Somebody took that letter to the High Court — and fourteen months later the State had notified a scheme letting old e-challans be closed at fifty per cent, with the Chief Justice directing where the counters should stand and that no money be taken in cash. This page traces the whole sequence from Rani @ Rani Tiwari v. State of Bihar to Notification No. 3261 of 30 April 2026, sets out exactly which offences the scheme covers — and the one it leaves out, which is overloading, the most expensive offence in the Act. Also: why the Lok Adalat did not reduce anything, a correction to our own earlier pages, section 200 missing for the fifth state running, and the Supreme Court order pulling from the other end.
ReadThree state pages in we had to keep telling readers the amounts could not be printed, because the document fixing them was unreachable or a photograph. Jharkhand broke that. Its Transport Department memo Pari. Ayu.-192/2016 carries a five-column schedule — section, offence, penalty before 1 September 2019, penalty after, and the compounding fee — and we reproduce all twenty-five rows. Then the harder half: section 185 and a dozen others are not in it at all, section 194A has an empty compounding cell, and a second speeding offence carries a licence impoundment instead of a sum. Also here: three rows whose penalty columns appear transposed, the three-month deferral of September 2019, the state rules of 2001 that will not open, a Delhi address printed on the state enforcement page, and the Supreme Court order of 28 September 2026 that turns an unpaid challan into a blocked registration.
ReadAcross three state pages we kept asking the same question — who is actually allowed to stop you and write this — and Haryana is the first state that answers it. Rule 225 of its 1993 rules, substituted in 2021, appoints seventeen categories of officer and lists the sections each may challan under. We reproduce the whole schedule. The police floor is an ASI, their list is shorter than the transport list, and overloading under section 194 does not appear against the police at all — it is transport department work. Two provisos matter: five officers cannot touch private buses, and police powers widen outside municipal limits. Section 200 is missing from the enabling provisions for the third state running, so the amounts come from a notification we could not find — and we say so rather than copying a rate list.
ReadOur second state page, and the finding at the top of it is one the High Court only said out loud in August 2026: Uttar Pradesh has no separate traffic police cadre, and the Bench asked the government to decide on creating one. The state’s own rules contain no compounding provision — section 200 is not even among their enabling sections — so the amount comes from a notification, dated June 2020, and the schedule everybody quotes online is older than the 2019 amendment. An appeal in a licensing matter goes to the Deputy Transport Commissioner of the Zone, not the RTO. Plus the High Court’s own Payment Setu portal across 74 district courts, the school-vehicle chapter nobody mentions, number portability, and why this page carries no compounding figures.
ReadA stay order is not a thing you can go and collect. It is an order made inside a suit, which is why the document that has to exist first is the plaint and not the application. The Supreme Court set three requirements, and most applications die on the third: irreparable injury means an injury that money at the end of the case cannot adequately repair — so “I will lose money” is usually not enough. Before any of that there is a gate: section 41 of the Specific Relief Act lists eleven situations where an injunction cannot be granted at all, including stopping a criminal proceeding, and one added in 2018 for infrastructure projects. Also the ex parte order and the thirty days in Rule 3A that people mistake for a result, what happens to somebody who breaks an injunction, and the appeal that runs both ways.
ReadAlmost nobody reading this chose arbitration. It was in the loan agreement, the builder agreement, the insurance policy — a clause nobody negotiated. So the first question is not how arbitration works; it is whether that clause can be used the way the other side says. On the two commonest versions the Supreme Court has said no. A party interested in the outcome cannot alone appoint the arbitrator (2019), and a Constitution Bench held in November 2024 that unilateral appointment clauses in public-private contracts violate Article 14. And if you are a consumer, the clause does not shut the consumer forum. Plus the twelve-plus-six month clock, the grounds for setting an award aside in the statute’s own words, the 2025 ruling on when a court may modify one, and why filing a challenge no longer freezes the award.
ReadThe one rule a court applies against you even if the other side never mentions it. Section 3 says a late suit shall be dismissed although limitation has not been set up as a defence, so hoping nobody notices is not a plan. We set out how the Schedule really works — and why the third column, saying when time starts, decides more than the number of years does. What restarts the clock (a signed acknowledgement, a recorded part payment) and the condition both carry. Why delay can be condoned in an appeal but never in a suit. The Covid exclusion of 15 March 2020 to 28 February 2022, still worth nearly two years and still forgotten. And section 27, where losing the period does not just bar the suit — it extinguishes the ownership.
ReadEvery page on this subject opens by saying mediation is voluntary. That is true of one of the three mediations you can end up in. Before a commercial suit it is compulsory, and the Supreme Court has treated compliance as jurisdictional — skip it and the plaint is liable to be rejected. And a court can refer you without your consent at all, unlike arbitration. We also did the thing nobody seems to have done: checked how much of the Mediation Act 2023 is actually in force. The commencement notification we could find switched on the regulator and the rule-making power — not pre-litigation mediation, not confidentiality, not enforcement. Plus the section 12A judgments from 2022 to October 2025, what is privileged, and the four grounds on which a settlement can be undone.
ReadTwenty pages on this site mention it and none of them explained it, so here it is from the only angle that matters: the point of view of the person being asked to sign. A Lok Adalat cannot decide anything — the Supreme Court said so in 2008 — it only records what you agree to. And section 21(2) makes that record a civil decree against which no appeal lies to any court. Not a suit to set it aside, and not objections in execution: the Supreme Court shut both doors in November 2025, in a case where a man lost a property he had bought for four crore rupees through an award he was never party to. Also what can and cannot be referred, the divorce line nobody reconciles, the court fee refund, why the traffic challan discount has no instrument behind it, and the Permanent Lok Adalat, which can decide against you.
ReadThe words are not interchangeable in India and the difference has consequences. Who may appear for you, where notaries, legal consultants, document writers and “case managers” fit, and how to spot somebody who is not entitled to practise.
ReadA three-question test that does not depend on how frightened you are, an honest list of when the answer is no, what the Advocates Act actually restricts, why a power-of-attorney holder cannot argue your case, and who is entitled to free legal aid.
ReadHow to verify that somebody is really enrolled, why specialisation by forum beats seniority, the Bar Council rules that protect you before you sign anything, the conflict question to ask on day one, and the question almost nobody asks.
ReadWhy no honest Indian site publishes an advocate’s fee, the fee structures actually used, why “no win no fee” is not permitted here, what is a fee and what is an expense, and how to agree it so there is no argument later.
ReadWhat to take, in what order, what to say about the facts that hurt you, what a vakalatnama actually does and how long it lasts, what to write down before you leave, and what should happen in the first week afterwards.
ReadWritten for both sides. Why a single line at three thousand five hundred rupees decides which of two separate systems your tenancy is in, the closed list of grounds under Section 14, the first-default protection most tenants never hear about, the summary procedure under Section 25B that is lost by doing nothing, notice under Section 106, and why changing the locks is the worst thing a landlord can do.
ReadThree different suits wear one name. Whether you are asking for a share, for possession, or for a document to be undone — and why each has a different clock. Self-acquired against coparcenary, a daughter’s right by birth, why a mutation entry is not ownership, why GPA and will papers are not a conveyance, and the two decrees a partition suit ends in.
ReadOne “no” at the counter is not where the law ends. The three doors, in the order the law gives them — the police station, the DCP under Section 173(4), the Magistrate under Section 175(3) with its new affidavit condition — plus the complaint case where the accused is now heard first, and why the officer refusing you is sometimes right.
ReadThe distinction everything rests on, and why it is decided on the medical record by another doctor rather than by how bad the outcome was. Why the complete record is the first step and must be obtained before you complain, consent as a separate and often stronger ground, and the three roads — compensation, prosecution and professional discipline — of which only one pays.
ReadThe one law that can take back property you already signed away. Section 23 and what Urmila Dixit (2025) settled about eviction and possession, the Maintenance Tribunal before a Sub-Divisional Magistrate, the ceiling on the monthly amount and the route that has none, whether you may actually bring a lawyer, and where a daughter-in-law’s right of residence fits.
ReadFees, transfer certificates, admission and expulsion — and why the door that opens is the Directorate of Education rather than a court. What the Delhi High Court held in May 2026 about a hike at the start of a session against one imposed mid-session, why a certificate cannot be held against your dues, and how to ask the regulator for something it can actually do.
ReadFive different papers, five different answers to “what if I do nothing”. A private legal notice against a civil summons, a criminal summons, a tribunal notice and a police notice; the thirty days that is directory and the hundred and twenty that is not; ex parte orders and the thirty days to undo one; and why complying with a Section 35(3) police notice now protects you.
ReadWhat a family does in the first twenty-four hours, and the two rights nobody will offer you: default bail under Section 187(3), which turns on sixty or ninety days rather than the merits and dies the day the chargesheet is filed, and release under Section 479 after half the maximum sentence — a third for a first-time accused. Plus sureties, conditions, and why a bail order is not release.
ReadThe court is not deciding which parent is right. It is deciding one thing — the welfare of the child — and that re-sorts every argument you were planning to make. Custody, guardianship and access are three different things; Section 6(a) gives a starting position for a child under five and not a rule; joint custody is a Law Commission recommendation and not a statute. Plus interim orders, access as the child’s right, parental alienation, passports and travel, and what to do when an order is broken.
ReadGetting the content taken down and getting the person acted against are two different cases, with different addressees and different clocks. The Grievance Officer’s twenty-four hours and fifteen days, the twenty-four hour rule for nudity and morphed images, the thirty-day appeal almost nobody uses, why Shreya Singhal explains the wall you hit, Zero FIR, preservation requests, and the Section 63(4) certificate that decides whether your screenshots count at all.
Read“The marriage is over” is not a ground — Parliament never made irretrievable breakdown one, and no Family Court can act on it. So the case turns on what you can PROVE. The Section 13 grounds as they actually read, what cruelty means after Samar Ghosh and what it does not, desertion and its two years, the one-year bar, and why Section 23(1)(a) destroys a manufactured ground.
ReadThe danger is rarely a confrontation — it is a false complaint at a police station, and from that moment the State does the family’s work for it. What answers it is her own statement before a Magistrate. Plus the protection petition, why consenting adults are covered married or not, the three-day rule when you move, and the honest Delhi position on the thirty-day notice. For adults only.
ReadThe paper in your hand picks your procedure — not the amount, and not how obviously you are in the right. On a cheque, a note, a written contract or a guarantee, Order XXXVII gives you a suit in which the defendant has no right to defend. Plus the three-year clock, the written acknowledgment that restarts it, why a cheque bounce complaint is not a recovery suit, the mandatory mediation that gets commercial suits rejected, and why winning is not the same as being paid.
ReadTwo questions come before the facts: which door, and how much time is left. Section 6(1) built the Local Committee for the two situations in which the office route is useless — fewer than ten workers, or a complaint against the employer himself. Section 9(1) starts a three-month clock from the last incident, extendable by three, and recent decisions treat the outer edge as a wall. Plus who counts as an employee, what counts as a workplace, the conciliation that may not end in money, the inquiry’s civil-court powers, and why Section 28 means the committee and the police are not an either–or.
ReadWhat your building legally IS decides the case, not what you are complaining about. Most Delhi RWAs sit under the Societies Registration Act, 1860 — a registration statute with no power to levy maintenance, fine a member or recover anything, so the charge rests on the bye-laws and is enforced only by suit. A co-operative society goes to the Registrar under Section 70, where an election challenge dies in thirty days. And a building under the Delhi Apartment Ownership Act, 1986 has a Deed of Apartment, parking inside the statutory definition of common areas, dues as a charge on the flat, and model bye-laws that make elections and audit compulsory.
ReadA challan is two different things wearing one name. Some can be paid and closed; the rest cannot be paid at all, because the compounding list takes in Section 184 only for handheld phone use and leaves Section 185 out altogether. The notice is not a bill either – it is issued under the section headed “Restriction on conviction”. Plus what paying on the Virtual Court actually means, why the “three challans” suspension rule does not exist, and what to do when challans keep arriving for a car you sold years ago. No penalty figures, and the page says why.
Read“Court” on a challan does not mean a trial. It means a Magistrate now holds the file, and that the next click is a plea rather than a payment. How to find the case – and why a driving licence number will never find it. Why the summons only appears after you act. What contesting actually does, and the published figure showing how few people do it. The Act’s own short route, why traffic offences are expressly NOT petty offences under the new code, when you must attend in person, what the court can do to your licence, and what five official sources say – and do not say – about ignoring it.
ReadA licence goes out of two different doors – a government office under Section 19 and Rule 21, or a courtroom on conviction – and the grounds, the appeal and the way back differ for each. The appeal is thirty days from RECEIPT, and we found no provision for condoning delay. A High Court has quashed a suspension that named no ground and recorded no satisfaction. The licence does not simply revive when the period ends: the Act wants a refresher course, or a fresh test and a medical certificate. And almost nobody knows you can apply to have a disqualification removed after six months. Plus why there is no three-challan rule and no points system in force.
ReadEverybody argues “it was not me”. The strongest ground is usually not your evidence at all – it is whether the challan complies with the rule the government wrote for issuing it. Rule 167A requires the camera to carry a yearly approval certificate, requires the challan to be accompanied by FIVE named things including a photograph showing the offence AND the plate, and requires the notice to be sent within fifteen days. And Rule 167A(10) gives an owner who was not driving an express right to say so – a right the portal does not implement. Plus Delhi’s own complaint form, the cloned-plate gap nobody fills, and why Section 209 is a far weaker shield than people think.
ReadWe read the registration chapter of the Act section by section, and the answer is not the one anybody wants: there is no provision by which a seller can take himself off the register without a transfer being completed. Transfer needs the buyer. Cancellation is about the vehicle – destroyed, beyond repair, removed out of INDIA, not out of the State. And the challans are the smallest part of it: the Supreme Court has held that a registered owner who purported to sell but still appears in the records is not absolved of liability for compensation. Form 29 is necessary and has not been shown to be sufficient. One rule prevents all of it.
ReadThe counter says clear the challans first, and nobody says under what. We went looking. The Act has no such provision at all – not in section 48, not in section 50, not in fitness or permits. The power is in a rule, and the rule is narrower than the practice: ninety days, the offender’s own licence or the vehicle named in the challan, and permit, fitness and tax expressly left out. A 2018 ministry circular goes further and cites no authority for doing so. Then on 28 September 2026 the Supreme Court directed much of it anyway. Plus the Kerala judgment holding that a transfer after a death is not a transaction at all.
ReadThe section is headed “offences by juveniles” and the person it makes guilty is an adult: the guardian of the child or the owner of the vehicle, and those can be two different people. ₹25,000 and up to three years, the registration cancelled for twelve months, and no licence for the child until twenty-five. The part nobody prints: Section 199A is not in the compounding list, so it cannot be paid at a counter and must go to court. Plus the complete exemption in sub-section (3), the written representation the Act requires before a registration is cancelled, and why the Pune case was not this section at all.
ReadTwo things are said everywhere about this and both are wrong. It cannot be paid online – Section 185 is absent from the compounding list, so a court challan is issued and a magistrate decides, which the Delhi Traffic Police has itself confirmed. And six months in prison is the maximum, not the outcome: the reported figures show custody in under a tenth of cases, for days. The consequence that is real, and that nobody prints, is the licence – on conviction, disqualification of at least six months, and the provision carries no “special reasons” escape at all.
ReadSince the transport strike of January 2024 every page on this subject has been built on a provision that has never been brought into force. The government’s own release excluded Section 106(2) when the new criminal laws commenced, and the Delhi High Court confirmed in July 2026 that it was still unnotified. The charge in practice carries five years and is classified as bailable. Plus the twenty-four hour reporting window almost nobody knows about, and the ₹2 lakh claim the Supreme Court found only 205 families in the whole country made in a year.
ReadAcross nine pages on challans and road cases we kept saying this is a court application and not something to settle at a police station, and kept not explaining how. This is that page. The old provision had no deadline at all – its replacement gives the court fourteen days to record and photograph the vehicle and thirty days to order its release, and a High Court enforced that in August 2026. Plus why the registration certificate is not the whole answer, how much the bond can lawfully be, and the special statutes where the Magistrate has no power at all.
ReadOur first state page, and the state-specific part is narrower and stranger than people expect. Rajasthan’s notification binds officers by rank and by area: a Head Constable may compound inside the Jaipur and Jodhpur Commissionerates, an Assistant Sub-Inspector everywhere else. The state’s own motor vehicles rules contain no compounding provision at all. Plus the thirty-day appeal to the RTO, a quarter of every compounding fee going to a non-lapsable road safety fund, who really owns the highway cameras, and why a seized vehicle here is so often a mining matter.
ReadSearch “Punjab e-challan” and almost everything you get belongs to Pakistan — the Punjab Safe Cities Authority in Lahore, a row of .pk sites, and commercial services. Not one Indian government result. The reason is that Punjab publishes almost nothing: its Transport Department’s whole notifications page holds nine items, four of them single scanned pages 11, 12, 16 and 17 of one user-charges file, and no section 200 schedule at all — while its own menu sends you to the centre. One date does exist: 19 December 2019, so here alone you can ask for the notification by name. Plus three two-second tells, the Gurmukhi-versus-Shahmukhi check, and why Chandigarh — whose Administrator is Punjab’s Governor — wrote the best schedule in India.
ReadOne question put to thirty-four Indian states and union territories: have you published what a challan costs, and who may take it? Five published a schedule after the 2019 amendment, seven are still running documents older than it — the oldest from 2008 — and around twenty publish no amount at all. In the whole country only two schedules tell you that a helmet offence costs three months of your licence. The full comparison table with every jurisdiction linked, the four jobs a schedule actually does, the patterns we did not expect — and every correction we have had to publish about our own pages, in one place.
ReadThe only jurisdiction in this series that was created while the amended Act was already running. Two Union territories merged on 26 January 2020, but section 17 of the Merger Act kept both rulebooks alive in their own halves — so the real question is whether Daman runs on one schedule and Silvassa on another. Neither exists. The registration mark was unified in four days; the municipal regime in eight months; the compounding schedule not in six years. The Transport Department publishes four documents, the whole legal library two entries, the police force’s rules shelf one reservation roster — and the traffic police page never once uses the word challan.
ReadThe smallest jurisdiction in this series, and the first where we had to ask whether our own question is fair. No two inhabited islands are joined by a road. The police run seven coastal security stations and publish no traffic page. The Department of Road Transport names no Act and no Rules at all — the only one of thirty-three — and a single Motor Vehicle Inspector is Licensing Authority for the whole territory. No section 200 notification could be found. We argue it both ways and then say where we come down: the principle holds, the scale does not — and a one-page notification would settle it.
ReadThe A&N Police publish a ninety-seven row spot fines list — the largest and most current schedule in this series. It marks which offences go to court instead of a counter, notes where the licence is to be seized, and prices the one compoundable limb of section 184 at ₹3,000 while sending the other five to court in the same row. Its notification is dated 22 days after the 2019 amendment — faster than Assam, which we had called the fastest. And row 17 of it caught three wrong figures in our own tables, which this page sets out in full.
ReadOn 25 August 2026 Ladakh notified S.O. 250, directing twenty per cent of everything collected by compounding traffic violations into a road safety fund — non-lapsable, audited by the CAG, and spent on signage, black spots, driving test tracks and ambulances. Puducherry promised exactly this in 2015 and never did it. The same notification calls a compounding fee one taken by “the officers authorised under Section 200” — so that authorisation exists, and we still could not find it. A territory that has published where a fifth of your money goes, and not what the money is.
ReadIn 2023 this territory recorded 13,72,501 traffic challans — 4,28,609 compounded and 9,43,892 sent to court. That is sixty-nine per cent going to a magistrate, which is the opposite of what section 200 exists to achieve, and no other jurisdiction in this series publishes the split at all. We could find no compounding notification here. The Act itself only arrived on 31 October 2019 — sixty days after the amendment — so this is the one place in India that has never known the pre-2019 Act. And in Srinagar 835 cameras now issue challans with no published procedure, for the one offence that costs you your licence.
ReadSikkim publishes the region’s fullest compounding schedule — forty-four priced rows in four columns, graded by repeat offence and by vehicle class — made by Notification No. 121/MV/T dated 29 July 2010. Sixteen years on it still prices a general contravention at ₹100, has no helmet row at all because the section did not exist, and carries two figures now below the statutory minimum. Meanwhile the same department runs AI cameras with a ten-day cure window and a written promise to pay you double if the machine is wrong — the most citizen-protective provision we have found anywhere. The newest enforcement in India, pointed at the oldest price list.
ReadArunachal publishes no compounding schedule, and the only state statute its district transport office names is a taxation Act. But one district did something no government in this series has done: it published what it collected. Lohit reported 3,782 challans and ₹42,18,800 in 2025 — which divides into about ₹1,115 per challan, the first real figure we have had for what is actually being charged on a road rather than what a document says it should be. And behind it sits Article 371H, under which this State’s Governor alone carries a personal responsibility for law and order — a question we raise and deliberately leave open.
ReadTripura publishes twenty-six no-parking zones and twelve parking zones in Agartala, each with a notification number and date; a tax penalty scale; and eleven amendments to its Motor Vehicles Rules, the latest dated five days before the central compoundable list changed. It publishes no compounding amount at all — and its Notices link points at nothing while its Acts link points at a file that will not open. Then its accident figures changed our mind: deaths fell forty per cent in two years while crashes fell nine. That is survival, not prevention — and it forced us to say plainly what a published schedule is actually for.
ReadPuducherry left us asking who the “State Government” is in a Union territory. Chandigarh answers it in practice: its notification of 6 December 2019 says the section 200(1) power is exercised by the Administrator — who since 1984 is, ex officio, the Governor of Punjab. What follows is the best compounding notification we have read: 30 rows, five columns, a column naming the only three authorities who may compound, the three-month licence disqualification written in (the first schedule in the series to do it), section 206(4) on the speeding rows, and section 184 limited in brackets to handheld devices. One problem: the police website misquotes it in four places, including a date fourteen months in the future.
ReadSection 200 gives the compounding power to “the State Government”. Puducherry is a Union territory — and the General Clauses Act says that in a Union territory those words mean the Central Government, while a Council of Ministers advises an Administrator whose disagreements go to the President. We set the provisions out and leave the question open. Underneath: the territory’s rules are not made under section 200 (second jurisdiction proved on the instrument’s face), two different monthly rates sit under one ₹100 cap, the police table of 95 offences carries pre-2019 figures — and the territory’s own 2015 policy recorded a death rate double the national average and promised to notify penalties and fund road safety from compounding.
ReadA compounding arrangement has two halves — what an offence costs, and who may settle it for which offences. Most states publish one. Mizoram publishes both, and they do not match. Its penalties page, updated February 2025, is the only state document in this series that names section 177A, and the only government page that prints the three-month licence disqualification under 194C. Its compounding notification is from 1 August 2018 — still listing section 191, which 2019 removed, and listing nothing 2019 inserted. So a helmet is priced at ₹1,000 on one government page and absent from the other. Plus the only rank floor in India with a uniform condition on it.
ReadTwenty-one pages read a state’s schedule. Nagaland does not publish one — but it published something no other state government did: a notice telling the public that section 200 itself had been replaced. Serial 26 of the Schedule to the Jan Vishwas Act, 2023, commenced by S.O. 227(E) on 13 January 2025, substituted section 200(1) and added 177A, 192B(3) and 201 to the compoundable list — so every schedule in this series is now under-inclusive, and the community service power may have been deleted before any state used it. Following 177A back led somewhere stranger: the regulations it punishes were superseded in 2017, and state departments are still publishing the 1989 version.
ReadTwenty pages built around a table. Meghalaya’s section 200 notification has no table at all — instead of figures it sets a rule: amounts “not lesser than fifty percent of the maximum fine prescribed”. So a 2011 document still works, while Telangana’s fixed schedule from fifteen weeks earlier went stale. But the formula only saved the money, not the scope — its list of nine sections is from 2011, and section 194D for helmets did not exist then. Chasing that took us to something twenty-one pages had never done: reading section 200 itself — which settles that the compoundable list is Parliament’s and not the states’, confirms why drink driving can never be compounded, and reveals a community service power no state has used.
ReadThree pages in this series quoted a state rule capping a composition amount at ₹100 and we treated it as a stale state figure. We were wrong, and Goa proves it. Its rule 54 names its own parent provision — section 50(3), which allows “not exceeding one hundred rupees” in lieu of action under section 177. The ceiling is Parliament’s, not the state’s. In 1988 section 177 also carried ₹100 — the two matched exactly. In 2019 Parliament raised section 177 to ₹500 and ₹1,500 and left that ceiling alone: a 31-year symmetry became a 15:1 gap by nobody doing anything. Also here: the four paperwork delays this reaches, and why the real exposure on a late transfer is never the fee.
ReadOn Shimla’s sealed and restricted roads the law that stops you is not the Motor Vehicles Act — it is a Himachal statute of its own, the Shimla Road Users and Pedestrians (Public Safety and Convenience) Act, 2007. And it contains what no section 200 schedule in India contains: a fifty per cent on-the-spot settlement written into the Act itself, twice. Also here: the RC and the licence impounded if you do not pay; a plea of guilty by money order; time limits that run against the prosecution rather than against you; two appeals with named officers and real deadlines — the first appellate route in nineteen states that is in a statute; and section 22, confirming the Motor Vehicles Act keeps running alongside all of it.
ReadSeventeen states chose their own numbers. Assam did not choose. It issued notification TMV.250/2019/67 twenty-five days after the 2019 amendment — the fastest in India — and across eighty-eight rows gave no discount at all: every figure is the Act’s own. It is also the only state in eighteen that publishes four separate schedules, one per class of officer. The price never changes between them; the permission does. Police cannot compound overloading in Assam, and the two ₹1,00,000 dealer rows are reserved to senior transport officers. On a second speeding offence the schedule offers no amount at all — it offers impounding of the licence under section 206(4). Then in June 2024 the cabinet replaced the two-wheeler document fine with a warning, which is generous and which settles nothing.
ReadThe state publishes its own price list and almost nobody has read it. Notification F 5-5/VIII-Trans/2021 of 25 October 2021, issued under sub-section (1) of section 200 and sitting on the department’s own gazette archive — one of only two post-2019 schedules in India. Forty priced entries, twenty-four kinds of officer down to a Head Constable, and a repeat-offence column used on nineteen of forty rows where Madhya Pradesh — same 1994 rulebook, same design — uses it on six of thirty-one. We measured every row against the Act: a tenth of it on one section, the whole of it on five, one row above the Act and one below its floor. Plus the three-month disqualification that no schedule in seventeen states has ever mentioned.
ReadFifteen pages of schedules answer one question — what does it cost. Kerala answers the one that matters after you have paid. Following the Supreme Court, the High Court has held that even after a section 194 offence is compounded, the excess load cannot be permitted to stay on the vehicle — and directed that the driving licence goes to the Licensing Authority under section 19(1) even where the offence is compounded under section 200. Paying ends the offence. It does not authorise the condition, and it does not stop the second track. Also here: ₹5,000 per light for after-market LEDs, and Kerala’s 726 AI cameras — 1.3 crore challans, ₹900 crore issued, ₹300 crore collected, and ₹34.8 crore of payments frozen over questions about which cameras can even read speed.
ReadEvery schedule in this series was drafted before Parliament rewrote the penalties in 2019 — Telangana’s 2011, Andhra Pradesh’s 2008, Maharashtra’s 2016. Madhya Pradesh issued one on 6 March 2023, superseding all others. It is the only post-amendment list in fifteen states. And it prices three ways at once: by section, by first or second offence, and by what you drive. We checked every row — the repeat column changes the figure on only six of thirty-one, and those six turn out to be a coherent set. Also here: ₹1,00,000 per vehicle aimed at dealers not drivers, ₹300 for a helmet (the lowest anywhere), a load-projection row priced by what you are carrying, and 19 categories of officer including District Magistrates.
ReadBoth states carry a “Compounding” link. Open Andhra Pradesh’s and it is a different law altogether — not section 200 but section 86(5), the money taken instead of suspending your permit. G.O. Ms. No. 332 of 2008, rule 217, priced by what the vehicle is and what it carries: overload ₹2,000 + ₹100 per 100 kg, ₹200 per hour for missing your timings, ₹500 per excess big animal. Medium goods pay half, light goods a third. And AP is the only state in fourteen that publishes the other half too — a prosecution table naming the eight offences no payment will ever close. Its note four is the sting: the published fees are minimums, not prices.
ReadThirteen states in, we finally have the document itself. Every page so far ended the same way — the amounts live in a notification under section 200 that nobody can open. Telangana publishes its own. G.O. Ms. No. 108 of 18 August 2011: eighteen offences, two columns by vehicle, the officers who may take the money — and a proviso that does what nothing else in this series does. It writes the state’s own ceiling: the compounding fee shall not exceed the maximum fine prescribed in the relevant penal section. Odisha showed the floor; this is the roof. One problem: it is dated 2011 and the Act changed in 2019. Also here: the real 80–90% discount of December 2023, a half-rate for agriculturists, and why the police have had to call the yearly “discount” messages fake and fraudulent.
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