At the end of each month, after covering food and basic family costs, Md Alam Mia is left with almost nothing.
The former factory worker, who lost his hand in a workplace accident, now pulls a rented rickshaw on Dhaka’s crowded streets.
What he misses most is not just income, but the security he once had.
“With a job, you get a salary at the end of the month and some support later in life,” he said.
According to the Rickshaw, Van, Easy Bike Labourer Union data of 2025, the city is home to nearly one million auto-rickshaws and 60,000–80,000 paddle rickshaw pullers. They all live more or less the same lifestyle.
Before sunrise, Alam sets out with his rickshaw, navigating the capital’s traffic in search of passengers. With one hand on the handle, each trip demands extra effort, but stopping is not an option.
“After all costs, I can save about Tk700 a day, but when I go to the village to see my family, I spend it on them. At the end of the day, I do not have any money saved,” he said.
A study titled “Condition of a Rickshaw Puller of Bangladesh: A Study on Dhaka City” said rickshaw pullers’ net savings are only 3 per cent, and only 24 per cent of them have the ability to save money after meeting all expenditures.
They spend 78 per cent of their total income on food and house rent. Under the income balance issue, 57 per cent of rickshaw pullers remain in deficit.
That daily earning supports a family he rarely sees. Originally from Nakla upazila in Sherpur, Alam has spent years moving between his village and Dhaka, trying to secure a steady livelihood.
“I first came to Dhaka for a living in 2003. Sometimes I stayed, sometimes I went back home,” he said.
His life once followed a different path. He worked in a factory for about four years, earning a modest but regular income. Then a sudden accident changed everything.
“After four years on the job, I had an accident and lost my hand,” he said.
He still recalls the moment clearly. A co-worker had brought a child inside the factory.
“The child did not understand and pressed a switch. Immediately, my hand got stuck. It was crushed into pieces,” he said.
Doctors initially tried to save the hand. “They stitched it, but later it got infected. Eventually, it had to be amputated,” he added.
The injury ended his factory career. The company paid him Tk50,000 as compensation, but that was all. Soon after, the factory itself shut down.
With no work, Alam returned to his village and stayed for about two years. But without a stable income there, he came back to Dhaka again, this time turning to rickshaw pulling.
Since 2023, he has been working on the streets, usually staying in the city for around 20 days a month.
“If I stay 20 days, I can take back around Tk12,000 to Tk15,000,” he said.
Alam married in 2022. His son was born on 31 January 2024. But his wife and child live in the village. He once tried bringing them to Dhaka, but it did not work.
“She became sick several times, but she could not stay in Dhaka. I brought her here and kept her for about six months, but she fell seriously ill two or three times. After that, I took her back to the village. There, at least, the child can move around and grow up better,” he said.
Now, he can only talk to them over the phone and during short visits home.
“At the end of the month, there is not much left after family expenses,” he said. “With what I earn, it is not enough for their future.”
Still, he holds on to a simple hope. “I want to educate my child. This work has no future,” he said. “If my son can study, he will do better than me.”
He often thinks about how life might have been different. When he worked in the factory, his salary was around Tk6,000. Today, some of his former co-workers earn Tk30,000 to Tk40,000.
“If my hand was fine, I could have been earning like them,” he said.
For Alam, the struggle is not just personal. He believes many workers fall into uncertainty after accidents or factory closures.
“If workplaces had any position for people like us, many people like me could return to work,” he said.
For now, each day begins and ends on the road, with survival measured in small fares and quiet determination.
