“I love speed and ride a lot of sports bikes,” says Akanksha, a PhD student from Delhi, about her experience with bike taxis booked through ride-sharing services.
Structured along caste and class lines, India polices women who transgress the rigidly drawn patriarchal boundaries of respectability and chastity. Women’s complicated and often regulated relationship with mobility changes when they move away from home for work or school reasons. Their commuting frequency increases dramatically, expanding the possibilities of how, why and when they move. And digital ride-sharing services, particularly bike taxis, have influenced the way young urban women approach mobility, autonomy and ideas of freedom.
Regain autonomy, control judgment
“It was my friend who introduced it first.” [bike taxis] for me during the pandemic. I booked a bike tour but was hesitant. I thought people would see me and talk. I set my pickup location a little further from my house. Agra is a small city and everywhere you go you meet someone you know. “I couldn’t risk someone seeing me sitting behind a stranger on a bike, even if it was a man,” Akanksha remembers of her first bike taxi ride.
This experience is neither unique nor shocking. When I moved to New Delhi to do my master’s degree in 2023 as a 22-year-old, I spent my first few months mapping the width of the city – its endless flyovers and the contours of its subway lines. However, a careful list of rules of conduct, hotline numbers and safety measures always remained in the back of our minds. Early on, as I was leaving Noida, I secretly booked a bike taxi instead of a rickshaw, less to save money and more to try something from the list of don’ts.
A strange seduction of freedom came over me as my body felt the rush of speed; My world had just become free.
It was raining heavily and the wide streets of the Noida-Delhi Direct Flyway were empty. The driver took advantage of this, speeding past larger vehicles and gliding almost airlessly over the concrete streets while raindrops pelted my helmet. An inner thrill ran through me as I drove with a stranger in such close proximity. A strange seduction of freedom came over me as my body felt the rush of speed; My world had just become free.
From then on, bike rides became my way of overcoming the fatigue and relentlessness of the city. Until I was “caught” by my parents in a bike taxi. An intervention was scheduled and I was asked if I realized what I had done. A question dripping with shame, disgust and judgment. I was made to promise that I would never use bike taxis again.
Patriarchal restrictions on women’s mobility
On Instagram, multiple roles Show women recording themselves on bike taxis with a variation of “Rapido book kiya that aur pados wale uncle ne papa ko bola main roz naye ladke ke saath ghum rahi hoon” (I booked a Rapido and the neighbor told my father that I was seen with a new man every day).
Women who use bike taxis are regularly questioned and moral judgments are often made about them. This is due to the fact that such physical proximity blurs the rigid boundaries of patriarchal notions of “decency” and “respectability” in this otherwise routine, transactional activity.
Riding a bicycle as a pillion behind male riders means sharing space with a stranger and being physically close to him. Unlike rickshaws or cars, bicycles have no physical boundary and therefore no distance between passenger and driver. Women who use bike taxis are regularly questioned and moral judgments are often made about them. This is due to the fact that such physical proximity blurs the rigid boundaries of patriarchal notions of “decency” and “respectability” in this otherwise routine, transactional activity. Many women admit to putting a bag between themselves and the driver to create an artificial boundary and alert passersby that the ride is purely a transactional activity.
Image source: Abhinav Saha/Hindustan Times
When I started talking to young women about their experiences with mobility, particularly with regard to the use of bike taxis, despite their different experiences, there was one commonality: gender-based mobility restrictions radically limited their ability to exercise their autonomy, limited their freedom of movement and reduced their chances of exploring the city. However, migration made it possible for them to move for pleasure or leisure for the first time. In my interviews, I found that those who had migrated to the city for work or training consistently chose bike taxis over other modes of commuting because of the economics of bike taxis and the enjoyment of the ride.
Between conversations, connections and fleeting class boundaries
For Safa, 24, commuting by bike in her hometown of Malappuram in Kerala meant relying on male friends or relatives. But now that she is away from home, she prefers bike taxis over the Delhi metro because she believes the metro brings the baggage of class. “Subway travel is boring.” “It’s very quiet and full of posh people,” she says.
Interestingly, her mediocre knowledge of Hindi and strong accent often elicit curious questions from cyclists. “Some drivers talk to me, especially because of my Hindi accent.” They ask me where I come from or if I am from Kerala. And many Uber drivers tend to express their sympathy for the state,” she shares.
Furthermore, the boundaries established by class also break as other identities take over and facilitate connection. “My previous office was in Faridabad, in a Hindu-dominated colony. When he entered the colony, the driver, who was Muslim, saw saffron flags hoisted at the apartments. He knew I was also Muslim and asked me if there were any other Muslims in my office. “He seemed worried about me, which made me feel a sense of community and care,” reveals Safa.
A woman riding pillion in Ola’s bike taxi in Gurugram (representative image). Image Source: Ola Mobility Institute Report (2020)
Ria, a researcher and journalist working in Delhi, shares that cycling tours open doors for human connection. “Once, on a particularly busy day, I struck up a great conversation with the driver. Somehow I felt a sense of connection as we both expressed our frustrations. And it was incredible. I didn’t feel very connected to Delhi as a city, but I felt very comfortable in that moment. I think that’s a thrill for me: talking to people and connecting with them.”
Examination, assessments and questionsS
Although connections are possible, this is not always the case. For many men, being a passenger on ride-hailing jobs is not their primary full-time job; It’s something they do on the side. They own the bikes, unlike many rickshaw drivers who rent their vehicles. This allows them to be active participants in their work and determine when and how they carry it out.
Many of Akanksha’s experiences riding bike taxis were characterized by control and moral policing. She says, “I’ve often noticed that when I wear short clothes, I get a one-star review from older men.”
Many of Akanksha’s experiences riding bike taxis were characterized by control and moral policing. She says, “I’ve often noticed that when I wear short clothes, I get a one-star review from older men.” “Drivers often get angry with me and it feels like I’m being looked down on.” Such moral surveillance is a product of the same patriarchal ideas of “decency” and “respectability” that lead families to police women.
For Ria, conversations that initially started out friendly soon led to misogynistic questions. They say: “A Rapido rider once asked me if I wanted a massage or if I wanted to ride the bike while he sat on the pillion.” I was often asked about my last name, my caste, my religion and also my marital status. However, they don’t seem to have a problem with anything other than my marital status. Sometimes I’m also asked how I get to work outside the home.’
Make room for more female drivers
In March 2025, Fast has partnered with Azad Foundation and Sakha Consulting Wings to expand the emerging “Rapido Pink” fleet of women drivers to 2,000,000. To this end, women from economically marginalized backgrounds would be trained and recruited as drivers and supported in purchasing vehicles.
Advertised as Initiative to empower young womenit highlights both the wide gender gap when it comes to mobility and the fact that early opportunities in gig work were asymmetrically occupied by men. It is also a strategic business move by the platforms to prevent users from leaving the bike taxi segment.
The “Rapido Pink” fleet. Photo credit: via NDTV
When asked about her opinion on more women drivers now working for ride-hailing platforms, Akanksha says, “I think women are better drivers and also more patient.” But the best thing about more female drivers would be that I would feel more comfortable. No more objectification and judgment.’
Quotes in this article have been edited for length and clarity.
Vrinda Rawal is a New Delhi-based writer and filmmaker. Having recently completed her Masters in Filmmaking at Jamia Millia Islamia, she aims to explore, through her writing, archival work and filmmaking, how “urbanity” produces new politics of gender, segregation, class and technology.