Painting the Town Red: Why Is Public Spitting Still Normal in India?

How paan, public spitting, and collective indifference turned our walls into abstract expressionism.

Photo by MIGUEL BAIXAULI on Unsplash

Fifty Shades of Red: A Love Letter to India’s Walls

If you’ve travelled across India, through bustling cities, small towns, or dusty village roads, you’ve seen it.

The red stains.

On stairwells. On government office walls. On bus stops. On street corners. On roads that were once grey but now look like they’ve survived a crime scene.

It starts as a faint splatter on a wall. Then another. Then an entire staircase looks like it hosted a vampire convention.

Welcome to India’s unofficial national mural: tobacco spittle.

The First Time It Hit Me (Almost Literally)

The first time you truly understand this phenomenon is when you’re on a two-wheeler.

You’re riding peacefully, with the gentle caress of wind in your face. Life feels cinematic.

As the bus ahead moves at a snail’s pace, you decide to overtake.

And suddenly, in slow motion, you see it.

A man leans out of the window. Cheeks ballooned like he’s about to play a trumpet solo. He turns his head slightly. You know what’s coming.

Projectile red.

You don’t think. You swerve. You brake. You question your life choices.

You survive.

That’s when you realize: helmets are not just for road safety. They are anti-spit shields.

Why Do People Do This?

The easy answer is: because they can.

The deeper answer is more complicated.

It didn’t start as a bad habit. Chewing paan has been around for centuries in the Indian subcontinent, long before glossy sachets of pan masala invaded every corner shop. Betel leaf once belonged to rituals, hospitality, and polite social exchange. Somewhere along the way, tradition picked up tobacco… and lost its manners. When something becomes culturally normalized, the behavior surrounding it often escapes scrutiny.

Spitting, in many contexts, simply became part of the act.

Very few public spaces provide spittoons or designated disposal points. In environments where infrastructure doesn’t support behavior change, people default to convenience.

The nearest corner becomes the “solution.”

Let’s break this down.

Many men, and some women, chew khaini, paan, gutka, pan masala. It’s a whole mouth-based chemistry lab. Tobacco. Areca nut. Lime. Flavoring. Confidence.

The result? A mouthful of red liquid that demands immediate eviction.

Now here’s the crucial moment of decision:

• Look for a bin?
• Carry tissue?
• Find a drain?

No.

The wall has volunteered.

Apparently, every wall in India signed a secret consent form.

The Apathy of Government Buildings

If you really want to witness commitment to the art form, visit a government office.

You enter with hope.

You exit with tetanus anxiety.

Staircases are decorated in what can only be described as “Abstract Expressionism: Nicotine Period.”

Corners of walls are especially popular. I don’t know who decided corners are sacred spitting altars, but the memo clearly circulated nationwide.

And before you ask, “Why not take the elevator?”

Ah.

The elevator.

When it works, it smells like regret and dried paan. When it doesn’t work, which is most of the time, you climb the red staircase of destiny. You start choosing your route based on which surface looks least violated.

By the second floor, you’re stepping like a bomb disposal expert.

Weak Enforcement of Civic Laws

Public spitting is technically punishable under municipal laws in many Indian cities. Fines exist on paper.

But enforcement? Sporadic at best.

When consequences are rare, habits continue.

Cultural Confidence

Here’s the thing, this isn’t done with shame.

There is confidence.

You’ll see a man chewing thoughtfully. Reflectively. Like he’s solving a national policy crisis in his head.

Then, without breaking conversation, he turns and spits with the precision of an Olympic archer.

Bullseye. Wall corner.

He continues talking. Nation saved.

You stand there wondering if you hallucinated the entire event.

Public Transport: Aerial Warfare

Buses are special.

There is always at least one passenger who believes the window is a ceremonial launching pad.

You’ll be riding your bike peacefully and suddenly see a red arc flying through the air like a patriotic but unnecessary firework.

And then fights happen.

Two-wheeler rider stops the bus. Shouting begins. Accusations fly. Entire traffic becomes audience.

But tomorrow? The wall remains red.

The Psychology of “Not My Problem”

It’s not just about tobacco.

It’s about public ownership.

What fascinates you most is the split personality, or should I say “spit personality”

There’s a psychological gap between private cleanliness and public responsibility. Homes are kept spotless. Shoes are removed at the door. Floors are washed daily. Guests respected.

Outside? The street is a sacrificial zone.

It’s as if public space belongs to a mysterious third party named “Government,” and Government apparently enjoys red décor.

Collective ownership? Pending approval.

The Desensitization

Here’s the scariest part: you’ve gotten used to it.

You notice it. You feel disgusted. And then… you step around it and continue.

Red stains have become urban wallpaper.

Foreign tourists look horrified. You look mildly annoyed.

That’s adaptation.

Not evolution, adaptation.

My Instinctive Strategy

At some point, you develop defensive instincts.

• Never ride too close to buses.
• Avoid walls that look “fresh.”
• Don’t stand under balconies in crowded markets.

You shouldn’t need tactical training to walk down a staircase.

Yet here we are.

The Emotional Core (Yes, It’s Still There)

Jokes aside, it’s not just about spitting.

It’s about how casually we treat shared spaces.

It’s about how addiction, habit, and indifference quietly stain everything, not just walls.

You long for the day when public buildings don’t feel like biohazard exhibits.

When corners are just corners.

When riding behind a bus doesn’t feel like participating in a live experiment.

Will that day come?

Maybe.

Social norms change. Smoking indoors was once normal. Now it’s restricted.

If embarrassment replaces indifference, walls might finally retire from public service.

Until then, the town stays red.

Thank you for taking the time to read. It means a lot.

Ansel