‘It’s a question of survival’: How auto-rickshaws are battering pedal rickshaws to the brink of extinction
Auto-rickshaw drivers have mastered a simple yet effective strategy — undercut the pedal rickshaw pullers just enough to win over passengers. The difference of Tk10 or Tk20 is often enough
It was 11:30 in the morning at Dhaka's Malibagh intersection. Around 10 rickshaws were parked closely together, but most of them were battery-powered auto-rickshaws. Only a couple of traditional, human-pulled rickshaws were present — and they barely moved.
The auto-rickshaws did not linger. One after another, they picked up passengers or rolled forward to scout passengers elsewhere. As soon as one left, another slid into its place.
In contrast, the few remaining pedal rickshaws sat still. The rickshaw pullers were not idle by choice — they were simply being overlooked.
I watched a passenger approach a pedal rickshaw and ask, "Will you go to Gulistan Fulbaria bus stand?"
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The rickshaw puller agreed but asked for Tk80. The passenger hesitated, offering only Tk50. Before the rickshaw puller could negotiate further, an auto-rickshaw driver intervened, "Mama, I'll go. Just give me Tk60."
The passenger climbed aboard without a second thought.
Over the next few minutes, a clear pattern began to emerge. Auto-rickshaw drivers have mastered a simple yet effective strategy — undercut the pedal rickshaw pullers just enough to win over passengers. The difference of Tk10 or Tk20 is often enough.
This cut-throat price war has left traditional rickshaw pullers deeply frustrated. Bashir Mia, one such puller, shared how things used to be. "In the past, even if we quoted Tk100, we could negotiate it down to Tk70-80 and get the ride. Now, passengers bargain with us, then hop on an auto-rickshaw offering less."
When asked why they do not just match the fares, Bashir responded with resentment, "What are you saying! How can we survive on the fares auto-rickshaw drivers take? Are we equal?"
He went on to explain: An auto-rickshaw can complete three trips in the time it takes a pedal rickshaw to make one. So, even if auto-rickshaw drivers earn a little less per ride, they ultimately make much more over the course of the day.
And unlike the auto drivers, pedal pullers have to exert significant physical energy. "Can't we at least ask for Tk10 or Tk20 more for that?"
But in today's age, one hardly gets such wishes granted, more so in an economy where every single penny counts.
And so, rickshaw pullers like Bashir are seeing their monthly income shrink.
Habibullah, a pedal rickshaw driver in the Kamalapur area, said his monthly earnings after daily deposits and minor repair expenses used to hover around Tk20,000 just a year ago. Last month, however, it dropped to just Tk16,000.
"The price of everything is rising, except the value of our labour," he sighed.
Some blame this shift on the sudden influx of auto-rickshaws from last August following the ousting of Sheikh Hasina. But Habibullah believes the decline began earlier — around a year ago.
It's just not profitable anymore. Autos may be expensive — it costs Tk60,000 to Tk80,000 to build one, and another Tk30,000 for new battery packs, plus they also incur Tk300-400 in daily rent and battery charging costs — but the monthly income is easily double what pedal rickshaws make. I heard some auto-rickshaw drivers even make up to Tk40,000 per month.
Ironically, it was the Awami League government that initially tried to ban auto-rickshaws from Dhaka in May, hoping to bring back some order to the roads.
But protests and roadblocks by auto-rickshaw drivers forced the government to backtrack. Then-prime minister Sheikh Hasina eventually greenlit their return to Dhaka's roads, citing sympathy for low-income groups.
Since then, their numbers have grown exponentially. After the High Court imposed a three-day ban on battery-run rickshaws in November under the interim government, that too was overturned following protests in December.
And that is when auto-rickshaws started to dominate not only the inner lanes, but also the main roads.
"People once preferred our rickshaws for slightly longer trips, especially if it involved traveling on the main roads. Because many prefer not to take multiple short rides and would rather go straight to their destination," said Habibullah. "Now, even for longer distances, no one looks our way."
The situation becomes even more dire at night. "During the daytime, traffic police at least try to control the autos a bit," Habibullah continued. "But at night, no one seems to care. The roads are then filled with nothing but auto-rickshaws."
This discrimination against pedal rickshaw pullers goes beyond just reduced income and fewer passengers. They are also facing unjust attacks for reasons beyond their control.
Masum Billah, who works around Banani, shared that a few days ago, Gulshan Society authorities barred autos from entering Gulshan-Banani. "In retaliation, the auto-rickshaw drivers protested and attacked us," he said. "Several of us were beaten, and some rickshaws were smashed."
In Chattogram, the authorities have confiscated over 3,000 battery-run rickshaws since 1 April during drives to restore discipline on roads. And in Dhaka North City Corporation, the authorities have decided to shut down battery-run auto-rickshaw workshops and charging stations on main roads.
But these so-called 'Bangla Teslas' prevail.
Farid, another puller, added, "They behave as if it's our fault they're being restricted. Their logic is, if they can't operate, neither should we."
Auto-rickshaw drivers regularly push pedal rickshaws off the roads — both literally and figuratively.
"We move slower," said Farid. "And the auto-rickshaws always seem to be in a rush, even when they aren't carrying passengers. They don't just honk incessantly but also shout, curse and insult us to force us aside.
"Sometimes, they even come close to hitting us. There are moments when we have to stop completely just to avoid hitting pedestrians. And then, our passengers scold us for making them late."
All of this has left many demoralised. Some pedal rickshaw pullers have stopped coming out altogether, while others are saving up to make arrangements for auto-rickshaws.
"It's just not profitable anymore," Farid said. "Autos may be expensive — it costs Tk60,000 to Tk80,000 to build one, and another Tk30,000 for new battery packs, plus they also incur Tk300-400 in daily rent and battery charging costs — but the monthly income is easily double what pedal rickshaws make. I heard some auto-rickshaw drivers even make up to Tk40,000 per month."
But the only reason Farid and many other pullers like him have not yet switched to auto-rickshaws is that they don't have the necessary funds. However, some garage and charging station owners are offering loans, making it easier to transition.
For many, this shift is no longer a choice, but a matter of survival.
"If this continues, we'll have no choice but to switch, even if that means borrowing money at an inflated interest rate," Farid admitted. "And once we do so, there's no going back."
That, he believes, is inevitable. The more people invest in auto-rickshaws, the harder it will be to regulate them. "These guys will fight tooth and nail if anyone tries to ban autos again. They'll have too much to lose."
So, are pedal rickshaws on their last legs in Dhaka?
Farid chuckled grimly. "Looks like it."
