Bangladesh -- the land where chaos isn’t just a feature of life, but a mode of transport. And nothing embodies this spirit more than our very own "Tesla": The battery-operated auto-rickshaws that roam the roads with all the grace of a drunken rhino and the regulatory oversight of a ghost town bazaar.
They are sleek (if by sleek, you mean loosely welded tin cans on three wheels), silent (except when they screech like banshees while braking), and efficient (in delivering one or two humans to their doom everyday).
You see, while the West is debating the dangers of AI-driven Teslas, we have skipped the AI and gone straight to DIY deathbots. Who needs Elon Musk when our local engineer in Narshingdi can hook up a washing machine motor to a steel tray and create the Bangladeshi batmobile?
According to Bangladesh Jatri Kalyan Samity, in the last year alone, there were 870 accidents caused by these auto-Teslas, leading to 875 deaths and 1,779 injuries. Just till April, there were already 371 accidents, 378 deaths, and 709 injured -- and that’s just the reported ones.
But of course, our government, ever alert and responsive -- has declared, "We are trying." In Bangladesh, that statement has the same effectiveness as a broken traffic signal at Karwan Bazar. They tried to regulate e-rickshaws. They tried to train drivers. They tried to implement franchise bus routes. In short, they tried everything -- except succeeding.
The problem didn’t start yesterday. It crept in like a mosquito bite -- ignored at first, then swollen, and now infected with the gangrene of incompetence. When diesel-run three-wheelers were phased out, the electric variants crept in. At first, they were hailed as environmentally friendly.
Then came the numbers. As of now, there are an estimated 6 million of these battery-operated monstrosities crawling across our roads, lanes, alleys, and even highways. Dhaka alone hosts around 1.2 million of them.
In upazila health complexes, three to five people per day are admitted with injuries caused by these vehicles. District sadar hospitals report 15-17 patients daily, and division hospitals around 20. Hospitals should consider naming their orthopedic wings “Tesla Trauma Units.”
The interim government says, “The issue of autorickshaws is between city corporations and the local government ministry.” That’s classic bureaucratic badminton -- shuffling the problem like a shuttlecock between two exhausted players who would rather sit down for a tea break.
The Local Government (City Corporation) Act 2009 is now undergoing some CPR to allow a “new design” of rickshaws -- allegedly safer and equipped with better braking systems. A noble effort, like giving a band-aid to a patient in the ICU.
According to Muhammad Fawzul Kabir Khan, adviser to the Road Transport and Bridges Ministry, these new “Teslas” will “reduce problems.” Yes, just like putting a fire extinguisher in the Sahara reduces desertification.
And where will the old rickshaws go?
“Out of Dhaka,” the adviser confidently declares, as if Dhaka is a magic detox centre from where all problems can be exiled to the villages. It’s a beautiful dream -- like thinking you can fix a flood by moving the water to a neighbour’s basement.
Of course, the chaos is not just administrative -- it’s existential. In April, Gulshan Society decided to ban these “Teslas” from their pristine zones. The rickshaw drivers responded like Spartans defending Thermopylae.
On April 21, when a few were detained, drivers went full Mad Max on pedestrians and bikers, sticks and all. You see, when laws are absent, societies make their own. And when even societies fail, well -- then comes the street justice, Bangla-style.
Even within this “Tesla” community, there's division. The easy-bike drivers hate the auto-rickshaw drivers. The auto-rickshaw drivers hate the CNG drivers. And everyone collectively hates traffic police, who usually hide behind billboards when such conflicts erupt.
The Accident Research Institute (ARI) of BUET, which is supposed to be the country’s data lighthouse, has admitted they can’t provide recent information because -- brace yourselves -- the police are not cooperating.
Dr Shamsul Haque, director of ARI, said many accidents don’t even make it to police records. Why would they? Half the police are busy managing VIP convoys and the rest are perhaps negotiating under-the-table license renewals for “Teslas” that were probably built in a tea stall workshop.
Last year, 3,091 men and 1,084 women came to Dhaka alone for treatment after being hit by these three-wheeled torpedoes. These are the ones who could travel for treatment.
Legalizing these “Teslas,” experts said, is “a suicidal attempt.” When cities across the world are investing in public transport as a backbone, we are bending the spine with small vehicles.
With only 7.5% road coverage in Dhaka, neither buses nor “Teslas” can move freely. But instead of freeing footpaths, removing illegal structures, or launching effective bus route franchises, our authorities have decided to normalize the madness.
Like giving citizenship to chaos.
Even Elon Musk might have admired our “innovation.” After all, no other country has weaponized electromobility quite like we have -- transforming it from green hope to bloodied asphalt.
Let's not forget -- this didn’t start with the interim government. The previous Awami League regime, in power for over a decade, allowed these “Teslas” to multiply like YouTube prank channels. Each attempt to regulate was swallowed by political hesitation, vested interests, and fear of driver union backlash.
And now that we have got a new government -- a self-declared "reformist" one -- they have decided that reform begins with repainting the clown car and sending it to the suburbs.
We aren’t just watching a failure of transport planning. We are watching a national kabuki theatre where every actor pretends to be busy, the audience pretends to be impressed, and the stage collapses under the weight of collective denial.
Ban them? Good luck. They are too many and too militant. Regulate them? Maybe, but the infrastructure and willpower are missing. Replace them with new “Teslas?” That’s like solving malaria by replacing one type of mosquito with another.
The only real solution is to go macro: Restructure public transport, free footpaths, introduce strict licensing, route rationalization, and above all, a political will not to cave to populist demands every time an angry mob shows up with sticks and slogans.
We need fewer “Teslas” and more buses. Fewer patchworks and more planning. Fewer declarations and more action.
But until that day, let’s at least be honest and rename them for what they really are: Bangla Tesla -- silent, deadly, and coming to a street near you.
HM Nazmul Alam is an academic, journalist, and political analyst based in Dhaka, Bangladesh. Email: nazmulalam.rijohn@gmail.com