In the city where time moves slower than traffic, Bengaluru commuters are once again proving that Indian ingenuity doesn’t just survive adversity—it thrives on it. Following the Karnataka High Court’s directive banning bike taxis, app-based aggregators like Rapido have had their services suspended. The court’s decision—rooted in the lack of a regulatory framework under the Motor Vehicles Act—has created yet another speed bump in a city already gridlocked with inefficiencies.
But what followed was uniquely Bengaluru. No mass protests. No stalled streets. Just a new workaround—elegantly scrappy, cheekily disruptive, and completely desi.
Rapido, the leading two-wheeler ride aggregator, quietly rebranded its service from “Bike Taxi” to “Bike Parcel.” Passengers, now labelled as ‘parcels,’ began booking rides under the guise of intra-city deliveries. The move wasn’t a glitch. It was design. It was jugaad—a word that captures the country’s flair for fast fixes when systems lag behind needs.
Passenger-as-a-Parcel: An Act of Silent Resistance
This cheeky workaround was quickly celebrated across social media. One user coined it “PaaS: Passenger as a Service.” Another noted how “Bike” had quietly turned into “Bike Parcel,” and “Moto” into “Moto Courier.” There was wit, but also truth. This wasn’t just a meme-worthy moment. It was a grassroots innovation in response to policy that many feel is out of step with the city’s transport reality.
The ban has rekindled a long-standing debate: What happens when formal governance is too slow for urban life? Bengaluru, a city of tech unicorns and torn-up roads, often finds itself oscillating between innovation and inertia. Bike taxis had become an essential tool—offering affordable, flexible, and efficient rides in areas underserved by metro lines or traditional taxis. For countless students, gig workers, and middle-class commuters, the ban felt more like a blockade on progress than protection.
Policy Vacuum or Missed Opportunity?
The court’s June 13 decision came with conditions: if the state government had shown progress toward framing new rules for two-wheeler taxis, the ban might have been paused. But in a move that baffled many, the government responded by saying it had taken a policy decision not to frame such rules at all.
That stance—delivered in the middle of monsoon chaos and rising commute times—has sparked backlash. For a city whose average traffic speed is just 17 km/h, and where metro coverage still leaves major gaps, removing a key layer of last-mile connectivity feels regressive. Unlike in cities like Jakarta or Bangkok—where motorbike taxis are deeply embedded in the transportation ecosystem—Bengaluru seems to be sliding into policy paralysis, ignoring models that have worked elsewhere.
And while authorities argue about legality, residents are left to improvise. The risk, of course, is that such jugaads may thrive temporarily but also create loopholes for exploitation. Already, concerns about safety, rider accountability, and insurance coverage for these “parcels” have begun surfacing. A recent viral video showing a Rapido driver allegedly assaulting a woman passenger has only added fuel to the fire. These are not minor concerns—they’re warning signs that innovation without oversight can turn dangerous.
The Way Forward: Beyond the Parcel Hack
There’s a lesson here, one Bengaluru has taught the world before: when systems don’t serve people, people find their own systems. But this moment also offers a larger opportunity for dialogue—about how cities plan mobility, balance innovation with regulation, and build transport systems that include, not exclude.
Rather than banning services outright, governments must invest in smart, inclusive transport regulation. Bike taxis aren’t a problem; they’re a modern necessity. They fill the spaces buses can’t reach and metros don’t cover. They empower riders and drivers alike. With proper policy frameworks, licensing, and safety standards, two-wheeler taxis could be integrated meaningfully into Bengaluru’s transit network.
For now, the city continues to move—riders labelled as parcels, and apps quietly adapting to fill the vacuum left by a stalled government.
But if there’s one takeaway from this peculiar workaround, it’s this: technology will always move faster than legislation. And in a city like Bengaluru, where time is money and roads are unpredictable, the fastest route may just be the one you invent yourself.