AS soon as a long line of people step down from a footpath near a flyover at Lalukhet Number 10 and start walking towards the main roundabout, calls of ‘Habib, Habib’ or ‘Bank Road’ can be heard amidst the sounds of horns and traffic.

The calls are not made by bus conductors but by drivers of bike-rickshaws known as Qingqis parked in a row near the traffic intersection.

Positioning myself so that my head does not bang against an oversized stereo system near the roof, I sit at the back waiting for the Qingqi to set out for Habib Bank in Karachi’s SITE industrial area. With a motorcycle attached in front and double seats at the back, there’s enough space for six people. On the two corners of the vehicle’s roof, the driver has printed his contact numbers. Flowers hang from the other side. The driver asks for Rs10 from each passenger. On seeing me, he grumbles to his munshi that he’ll earn only half of what he aims to as men won’t sit at the back now.

As the rickshaw moves, it makes a few stops at various points to look for women passengers to fill the back. Instead, there is a man who asks for permission before sitting down. Shiny Qingqis can be seen at every stop the driver makes.

The number of buses has decreased on these routes over the years, says a passenger when I ask why he doesn’t take a bus from Lalukhet. “In a Qingqi, you can ask the driver to make a stop anywhere. Also it is airy and less cramped,” says shopkeeper Sulaiman Ansari. Turning around he gives the number of buses that used to take passengers along the same route. “Some of them still do but most take longer routes for the sake of more passengers and to earn a good sum. There is Seven Star, Bilal Coach, D-11 and D-1. A-25, X-3 and X-10 go from the overhead pul now and don’t stop near underpasses,” he says. This is where the Qingqi drivers are needed, most passengers say.

As we reach Habib Bank, munshi Mohammad Shoaib gets off near the Qingqi stand to count the number of Qingqis already on the go. “We have 150 rickshaws here,” he says, squinting in the afternoon sunlight. “We earn Rs300 from each rickshaw on a daily basis. But Rs100 goes to the traffic police officer and another Rs150 from each rickshaw goes to whichever political party is strong in the area,” he says, as another man asks him not to reveal too much. He, however, says they have “no issues with the bus drivers” — which is debatable.

After a recent scuffle between Qingqi and bus drivers near Jama Cloth Market on M.A. Jinnah Road, it was decided that Qingqis would now stand near the Numaish traffic intersection and not near the bus routes.

Though in most areas they stand in a criss-cross manner, at a roundabout near Safari Park, the Qingqis are parked in a line, with each vehicle given a number with a token. As soon as I ask a driver for some details regarding the system under which Qingqis operate, he squints at my notepad and pen, and questions, “TV wali ho? Mera rickshaw bund ho jayega ab?” Then he laughs and speaks about how last year under the supervision of Additional Inspector General of traffic police Ghulam Qadir Thebo there was a crackdown on unregistered and unlicensed Qingqis. “I sold my land in my village in Multan and bought this rickshaw for Rs110,000. I’d definitely get it registered and licensed,” he argues.

Clearly not happy with the ‘intruders’, president of the Karachi Transport Ittehad Irshad Bukhari says: “Earlier we were called a mafia. Now the same government can’t see the mafia behind the Qingqi drivers who have taken over the city. We are not happily pulling back our buses from the roads. We are being pushed into a situation where we have no choice. There’s no earning anymore.”

Bukhari says it was commonly thought the Qingqis would operate in and around the outskirts and not within the city “to control congestion”.

Apart from the bus routes taken over by the Qingqis, there’s the issue of “unpaid compensation”. “During a strike call, which is like a weekly event in Karachi, we are targeted by mobs. For every bus that’s torched, we are given Rs200,000, whereas we buy a bus for Rs2 million. I have written multiple times to the chief minister to look for a solution to this city’s transport issues. But there’s been no response,” he says.

Making a case for Qingqis the Karachi Qingqi Rickshaw Association president Safdar Shah says: “First, we don’t travel more than 14 kilometres. Women and students find this transport most comfortable. We have given repeated calls to get us regularised and to bring us under a proper system. We don’t want the Qingqis to be a nuisance. We already have a case pending in the high court; and we’ll pursue it to the end.”

Published in Dawn, October 10th, 2014