Happy on three wheels: Chingchi drivers in Rawalpindi find joy despite meager incomes

By Ibne Ahmad
September 22, 2025
A view of a three-wheeled motorcycle rickshaw on the way carrying goods on the rooftop. — APP/File
A view of a three-wheeled motorcycle rickshaw on the way carrying goods on the rooftop. — APP/File

In the narrow lanes of Raja Bazaar and the dusty stretches of Murree Road, the bright blue chingchi rickshaws zip past traffic jams and crowded bus stops like humming bees. With their sputtering engines and colorful interiors, these three-wheeled vehicles have become an essential part of Rawalpindi’s transport network — and behind their handlebars are men who earn little but wear wide, contagious smiles.

“One such driver is 28-year-old Nadeem, who starts his day at 7 a.m. and drives until sundown. He earns roughly Rs. 1,200 to 1,500 a day — barely enough to cover rent, fuel, and family expenses. Paise kam hain, lekin izzat hai. I do not steal, I do not beg. I work with my own hands,” says he, I am content, adjusting the scarf around his neck.

“Many chinchi drivers interviewed across Rawalpindi echo Nadeem’s sentiment. Despite inflation and rising fuel prices, they find pride in their profession and camaraderie among fellow drivers. At various stops like Committee Chowk and Pirwadhai Mor, clusters of drivers can be seen sharing tea, cracking jokes, and swapping stories about difficult passengers or near-misses on the road,” says Shabbir Husain.

“Life is the most difficult thing. If it is spent with a smile on the face it looks better,” says Mushahid Hussain, a driver in his early 40s.

“The cost of operating a chingchi is no small matter. Drivers often rent the vehicles from owners at rates ranging from Rs. 400 to Rs. 600 per day. With fuel, maintenance, and occasional police fines, the take-home income shrinks rapidly. Yet, most drivers say they prefer this work over unemployment or more exploitative forms of labor. There is freedom in this. I’m my own boss here. If I need to take a break or go home early, I can,” says Zaamin Abbas, who previously worked at a garment factory earning a fixed wage.

“Chinchis now make up a significant portion of informal transport in Rawalpindi, filling the gaps left by public buses and expensive ride-hailing services. They are especially vital for short commutes in areas where larger vehicles struggle to navigate,” say city traffic officials.

“However, challenges remain. Harassment by traffic police, lack of designated parking, and the absence of government support and the growing pressure from local authorities to reduce their numbers due to traffic congestion,” complain chingchi drivers.

“Even so, many drivers remain hopeful. Insha’Allah, as long as our rickshaws run and we stay healthy, we will keep going, they say with a grin. The enjoyment of life is in this,” they say.

Mohsin Zaidi says, “The humble chinchi drivers offer a quiet reminder that happiness is often found not in wealth, but in dignity, freedom, and the simple rhythm of a day well spent.”