Licence to Inconvenience

Bengaluru is a horror movie for office goers and that is really not a state secret. Drivers of autorickshaws and taxis work according to whim, public transport is according to whim, and the Metro is a 50-year-plan that grandchildren of Gen Zs might avail of. In that mix were bike taxis, one of the few rays of light in an urban com­muting darkness, especially for the young. What does the government do then? But, of course, ban it. And then it goes to the court and an order is misinterpreted and everyone jumps with glee as bike taxis return to the roads but only until the court clarifies otherwise. The darkness returns.

A similar story played out in Mumbai though here bike taxis never got real momentum and so when they were sabo­taged, their absence was not so keenly felt. When the Bombay High Court, recently based on a PIL by au­torickshaw drivers, asked the government why there were still some bike taxis around, it was in keeping with the idea that misery of commuters is of no consequence, so long as red tape and minority interests are protected.

It takes an optimist to expect the energy of the state's institutions to be focused on making lives easier. The Maharashtra government has come up with regulations to legalise bike taxis and it makes a long list of demands on operators. Absence of regulation was the reason for first ban­ning them. But that was in 2023. Two years have passed since. Rules have existed for years for aggregator taxis. How difficult could it be to add a few extra line items for bikes?

They did come up with an interesting new rule though, according to media reports—the necessity of a partition between the driver and the passenger in the interests of women's safety. Good intention notwithstanding, bike taxis in other regions have worked fine without such a con­traption. Women would prefer going to home faster after work, with or without partitions. That is the only thing the state feels no urgency about.