The call to prayer from the Baitul Mukarram mosque drifts through the narrow lanes of Old Dhaka just before dawn. It is still dark, and the air is thick with the smell of damp brick and frying paratha. On the corner of Bangshal Road, a rickshaw puller named Abdul wipes the dew off his seat and checks his tires. He is 47 years old and has been pulling a rickshaw for 22 years. He starts his day before the city wakes, because the early fares are the ones that pay for his children’s school fees.
Key Takeaways
- Old Dhaka’s rickshaw pullers work 14-hour days, often starting before 6 AM to catch early commuters and marketgoers.
- The average daily income for a puller is around 800 to 1200 taka, but expenses for rickshaw rental, meals, and repairs cut that nearly in half.
- Despite the physical toll and low earnings, many pullers stay in the trade because it offers immediate cash and no formal education requirements.
Abdul rents his rickshaw from a garage owner in Shakhari Bazar. The rental fee is 150 taka per day. He pays it every morning, no exceptions. If he is late, the owner gives the rickshaw to someone else. There is no contract, no insurance, no sick leave. Abdul has never had a bank account. He keeps his earnings in a small cloth pouch tied around his waist.
The streets of Old Dhaka are a maze of narrow alleys, open drains, and overhead wires. Abdul knows every shortcut. He can take you from the Ahsan Manzil gate to the New Market in under 12 minutes, weaving through traffic that would paralyze a taxi driver. He does this without a rearview mirror, without a horn that always works, and often without brakes that stop cleanly. He uses his feet as brakes. His sandals are worn flat on the soles.
By 9 AM, the heat is already pressing down. The humidity wraps around you like a wet blanket. Abdul stops at a tea stall near the Chawk Bazar intersection. He drinks a small cup of strong, sweet tea and eats a single egg roll. The stall owner knows him. They talk about the price of rice, the condition of the roads, and the new flyover that is being built near the river. Abdul says the flyover will make his job harder. More cars will come. The traffic will get worse before it gets better.
The morning rush lasts until about 11 AM. Abdul carries school children, office workers, and women carrying heavy shopping bags. He does not ask where they are going. He just pedals. His legs have a rhythm that never stops. Up and down. Left and right. His calves are thick as tree roots. His back is a map of scars from old accidents and years of leaning forward into the load.
Lunch comes late, around 2 PM. Abdul finds a spot under a banyan tree near the Lalbagh Fort. He sits on the ground and eats rice, dal, and a small piece of fish from a tiffin box his wife packed. He drinks water from a clay pot. He does not complain. He says the work is hard, but it is honest. He has seen men lose their legs in road accidents. He has seen rickshaws crushed by buses. He knows he is lucky to still be whole.
The afternoon is slower. The sun is high and the streets are quieter. Abdul waits near the Sadarghat launch terminal. He picks up passengers coming off the ferries from Barisal and Chandpur. They carry suitcases and children. They are tired and often argue about the fare. Abdul does not raise his voice. He knows the route. He knows the price. He waits for them to agree.
By evening, the city lights come on. The neon signs of jewelry shops and electronics stores flicker to life. Abdul works through the dinner rush. He takes couples to the restaurants in Gulistan. He takes families to the night market in Shyambazar. He does not stop until the streets are empty. That is usually around 10 PM.
He returns the rickshaw to the garage. The owner checks for damage. Abdul pays the rental fee. He counts his earnings for the day. On a good day, he takes home 500 taka. On a bad day, maybe 200. He walks home through the dark alleys, past sleeping dogs and closed shops. His wife and three children are asleep. He eats a cold dinner, washes his face, and lies down on a thin mat on the floor. He is asleep in minutes.
Tomorrow will be the same. He will wake before dawn. He will check his tires. He will pedal. He will not think about retirement. There is no such thing for a rickshaw puller in Old Dhaka. There is only the next fare, the next kilometer, the next day.
Abdul does not see himself as a victim. He sees himself as a man doing what he must. The city depends on men like him. Without them, the narrow streets would stop moving. The children would not get to school. The vegetables would not reach the kitchen. The launches would sit empty at the dock. Abdul knows this, even if no one says it out loud. He keeps pedaling.
| Pros of Rickshaw Pulling | Cons of Rickshaw Pulling |
|---|---|
| Immediate cash income, no bank account needed | Physically exhausting, leading to chronic pain and injury |
| No formal education or experience required | Low and unpredictable daily earnings |
| Flexible hours, can choose when to work | No job security, insurance, or benefits |
| Independence from a boss or office | High risk of accidents and road traffic |
Frequently Asked Questions
How much does a rickshaw puller earn in Old Dhaka per day?
A typical rickshaw puller in Old Dhaka earns between 800 and 1200 taka in gross revenue per day. After paying a rental fee of 100-200 taka for the rickshaw and spending on meals and minor repairs, the take-home pay is usually between 200 and 500 taka.
Do rickshaw pullers own their own rickshaws?
Most do not. A large majority rent their rickshaws daily from garage owners or middlemen. Owning a rickshaw costs around 25,000 to 40,000 taka, which is too high for most pullers to afford upfront.
What are the biggest challenges for rickshaw pullers in Old Dhaka?
The main challenges include long working hours (12-14 hours), extreme physical strain, lack of social safety nets, frequent traffic congestion, and competition from ride-sharing services and auto-rickshaws. Road accidents are also a constant risk.
Is rickshaw pulling a dying profession in Dhaka?
It is under pressure. The government has restricted rickshaws on major roads and promoted motorized transport. However, in the narrow lanes of Old Dhaka, rickshaws remain essential. The profession is shrinking but not disappearing, at least not in the old city.