The quiet revolution: Why e-bikes are gaining momentum among Bangladeshi commuters

For 34-year-old small-business owner Arifur Rahman, the biggest change since buying an e-bike isn't just saving on fuel—it's the silence. "When I used to ride my 150cc motorbike, my daughter would cover her ears every time I started it," he recalled with a smile. "Now she waves goodbye without a fuss. She even reminds me to plug it in at night, like it's her toy charging."

That small domestic ritual captures a much larger shift now humming through Bangladesh's cities and towns. Riders like Arifur are quietly trading the rumble of petrol-powered motorcycles for the soft whir of electric two-wheelers—and the numbers prove it.

A market surging quietly 

According to the National Board of Revenue (NBR), imports of e-bikes have soared fourfold in just three years. In 2022–23, only 2,446 units were brought in, worth Tk 9 crore. By 2024–25, that number had leapt to 10,053, valued at Tk 47 crore.

"Young professionals are leading adoption, especially women. Parents feel safer when their daughters ride an EV because speeds are more controlled. Homemakers and older riders also prefer them for ease of use. It's not just a bike; it's a lifestyle choice." INZAMUL ISLAM RHYTHM, MARKETING MANAGER, REVOO BANGLADESH

Most of these bikes arrive fully assembled from China, though 20–30 per cent come in segregated parts for local assembly. Market leaders include Revoo and Yadea, with Walton, Akij, Runner Automobiles, and other domestic players trying to carve their niche.

"In just a year, Revoo has become one of the leading EV two-wheeler brands in Bangladesh," said Inzamul Islam Rhythm, Marketing Manager at Revoo Bangladesh. "We've seen sales grow at over 100 per cent annually. The demand is there—not just because e-bikes are cheaper, but because they fit the rhythm of urban life."

Why riders are switching to e-bike 

The appeal of e-bikes boils down to stark arithmetic. A petrol bike costs Tk 2–3 per kilometre to run. An e-bike? Just ten to thirty paisa. Maintenance is minimal—no engine oil, no complex parts, and predictable electricity bills.

For Arifur, the savings are tangible: "I'm cutting down about Tk 5,000 a month. That's basically my household grocery bill."

Rhythm explains the bigger picture. "Maintaining a fuel motorcycle can cost Tk 80,000–90,000 a year—almost the price of a new e-bike. In contrast, charging an EV costs only Tk 300–500 a month. Over five years, the difference can be more than Tk 400,000. That's not just saving—that's financial liberation for many families," he added. 

He also pointed to shifting demographics. "Young professionals are leading adoption, especially women. Parents feel safer when their daughters ride an EV because speeds are more controlled. Homemakers and older riders also prefer them for ease of use. It's not just a bike; it's a lifestyle choice."

Beyond economics—the cultural shift

E-bikes are also reshaping social perceptions of mobility. For some, they're a greener statement; for others, a symbol of modernity. Shop owners are noticing this too. 

"The shift didn't happen overnight," said Abul Kalam, a e-bike retailer who sells both petrol and electric models. "When I first started keeping a few e-bikes in stock, most people dismissed them outright. Now, customers walk in already leaning towards the electric option—I just have to point them to the right model."

Rhythm frames this shift within a global trend: "From North America to Southeast Asia, electric mobility is becoming mainstream. Bangladesh cannot afford to lag behind. Consumers aren't waiting for policy—they're already choosing EVs because they see the benefits in daily life."

Ruksana Hossain, a regular commuter in Dhaka, echoed a similar tone, "I have recently bought an e-bike. Apart from the savings I could make, the fact that an e-bike is significantly more environmentally-friendly has also motivated me to opt for this instead of a regular petrol-powered scooter. As a commuter, I want to do my bit for the environment."   

The charging challenge

Still, hurdles remain. Chief among them: charging infrastructure. Most riders charge their bikes at home, taking 7–8 hours for a full battery. Fast charging can be done in 40 minutes, but stations are scarce.

"Every week customers ask me, 'What happens if the charge runs out on the highway?", Kalam admitted. "That fear slows adoption."

Rhythm agrees but sees opportunity: "If Bangladesh develops battery-swapping networks or rapid chargers, this market could explode. Imagine charging your bike in the time it takes to drink a cup of tea—that's the future we're working towards."

Policy and prospects

The government, for its part, has offered tax breaks to stimulate local assembly. Duties on e-bike production have been slashed, while VAT and advance taxes on parts imports have been waived. This has encouraged companies like Walton to begin local production.

Touhidur Rahman, Chief Business Officer at Walton Digi-Tech, put it bluntly: "With an e-bike, a household can cut monthly fuel costs by 80 per cent. In two years, the savings alone could buy another bike."

Rhythm is optimistic about the policy push: "These incentives are game changers. They make it easier for local firms to compete, and they reduce dependence on imports. It's a win-win situation for the industry as well as the customers." 

The road ahead

Official BRTA data still paints a bleak picture: of Bangladesh's 6.5 million registered vehicles, 4.7 million are motorcycles, but only 261 are electric two-wheelers. Thousands more are on the road but remain unregistered.

Yet growth rarely begins with statistics. Just as mobile banking seemed niche before transforming Bangladesh's economy, e-bikes are finding their foothold one household at a time.

Arifur, for example, is convinced: "My daughter's happy, my expenses are down, and my rides are quiet. What more do I need?"

For Rhythm, the message is clear. "The future is electric, not because governments or companies say so, but because people are choosing it. Every new rider proves the technology works—and that's how revolutions start."

In a country long defined by the roar of motorcycles, perhaps the real sound of progress is no sound at all.