Thousands of riders, Bykea drivers, InDrive partners, and food delivery workers quietly keep the city running behind this daily rush.

Every morning, they wear their helmets, open their apps, wait for a request and move to go into the busy, noisy environment of the city with a silent hope: that today will be better than yesterday.

Educated, yet driving by necessity

Some of the riders who worked in offices and ran their own business, but due to unemployment, inflation and tough times, have pushed onto the roads.

These are the people who are struggling, helpless yet still not depending on anybody else. They believe in their blood and sweat.

“I barely earn Rs2,000 a day, and if the police issue a Rs3,000 challan, everything goes to waste,” said one rider.

Many complain about random fines from traffic police, sometimes without receipts. Arguing, they say, feels risky. Staying quiet feels safer.

Rising costs, shrinking margins

Petrol prices increase, maintenance costs never stop, and a rider-sharing apps take around 25% of every fare. The life of the two-wheeled rider is getting tough.

The riders are working without any accident coverage, health insurance or any government safety.

“I earn about Rs4,000 a day, but if I get a Rs3,000 challan, I’m left with nothing for petrol or food,” another rider said.

Long hours have become the norm, late nights, weekends, and sometimes double shifts just to stay afloat. Some borrow from family or friends when things get tight. Every ride is a calculation of income, expense, and fear.

The unseen side of the ride

When riders ask for slightly higher fares to cover rising costs, some passengers argue or cancel. Few realise the struggle behind that helmet.

Each rider is a father trying to buy milk for his children, a son paying rent, a person quietly fighting to survive.

They ride through scorching heat, heavy rain, and endless traffic. Often, they return home empty-handed yet still smile and ask, “Sir, kya hum chalein ?”

Karachi’s unsung backbone

To the government, they may just be part of the informal economy. But in truth, they’re Karachi’s heartbeat.

The city doesn’t move because of policies or plans; it moves because of its determination.

In the city’s nonstop rhythm, these riders often go unnoticed. Karachi would come to a halt without them.

In every helmet there is a person behind who fights for livelihood, hope and dignity. It’s time for the city to stop for a moment and thank those who never stop moving.

Rabia Iqbal is a young journalist who brings curiosity, passion, and a fresh perspective to every story she tells.