Does Aizawl’s scooter boom signal failing public transport?

While moving up through one of Aizawl’s narrow stairways one afternoon, I felt a deep sense of community as shops, homes and people were intertwined around it. Laughter filled the air as shopkeepers called out to customers, and the aroma of street food spilt everywhere.

The experience of walking that path was heart-warming. But amid the liveliness, I couldn’t help thinking about how exhausting my commute was and how convenient it would be to have my own scooter.

The thought wasn’t unusual. In Aizawl, the sight of endless lines of scooters parked along narrow lanes is almost iconic for newcomers. Every steep turn and alley seems to hum with the sound of two-wheelers.

In a city that rises and folds over hills, the scooter has become a “lifeline” for transport. Owning one isn’t just about mobility; it’s about freedom from the uncertainty and limitations of a public transport system that cannot keep up.

Where public transport falls short

Public transport in Aizawl has always been a challenge for common people. The steep terrain, unpredictable weather and narrow roads make it hard for buses to navigate efficiently. But what’s more troubling is that the city seems to have accepted that challenge instead of solving it.

According to the Directorate of Economics and Statistics, Government of Mizoram’s website, the number of buses (MST, government-operated) on the road rose to just 595 from 559 over a period of seven years (2016–2023).

The number of “serviceable” or actively operated buses is often lower due to the ageing of the original bus fleet. A total count of fewer than 600 government buses for a population of 1.3 million people in Mizoram reflects that public transport has been a neglected component of the state’s transport strategy.

Cities like Aizawl, with a notable increase in the number of working youth every year, are bearing the brunt.

In 2026, the statistic has stabilised at just 560 (MST + JnNURM), as per government records.

For a city that’s often portrayed on social media as India’s “Silent City,” with long lines of vehicles moving calmly without honking, the ground reality is slightly different.

Talking to people who rely on public transport in Aizawl, I came across the same story: overcrowded buses and routes that don’t always connect where people actually need to go. The city buses run, yes, but not in sync with the rhythm of people’s lives in Aizawl.

“If I miss the 8:15 bus, I’m late for work. The next one comes half an hour later,” says Laltanpuii, an office worker from Aizawl city in her twenties. “I can’t afford that kind of delay, so I’m thinking about getting a scooter.”

The scooter culture

The decision to buy a scooter is one that thousands of young people and daily commuters in Aizawl have made. Between 2020 and 2023, a total of 75,162 new vehicles were registered in Mizoram, of which 51,569 were in Aizawl alone, accounting for 68 per cent of total vehicle registration, according to a report in Down To Earth.

Of these, two-wheelers dominate, whereas registrations for four-wheelers have grown more slowly, partly due to space constraints and the impracticality of driving cars through the city’s narrow lanes.

“People who own a car don’t usually prefer to go around the city in it. It’s troublesome to navigate the narrow pathways,” says Jenny Lalmuanpuii, a professor at the Indian Institute of Mass Communication in Aizawl.

People in the city also rely on private cars, taxis, private buses and bike taxis, but that doesn’t help with adaptability. Taxi fares are also exorbitant and difficult for daily commuters to afford.

“You can’t depend on private vehicles if you work shifts or reach home after finishing studies late,” said a student at the Regional Institute of Paramedical and Nursing Sciences in Aizawl. “A scooter gives me control over my time,” she said. This represents how young people are solving, in their own way, a problem the state hasn’t addressed.

The culture around scooters has become so ingrained that it now shapes how people plan their daily lives. Cafés, churches and coaching centres all have their parking spaces carved out for two-wheelers. Even local markets like Bara Bazaar and Dawrpuii Veng are lined with rows of parked scooters, each one belonging to someone who decided that waiting for a bus wasn’t worth the trouble anymore.

A question of priorities

Not everyone can afford a scooter, meaning those who rely on public transport are left behind. For a city like Aizawl, it seems that its urban identity is being shaped not by government policy but by individual adaptation.

And while that may seem like resilience among people living in the city, it is also a sign of systemic neglect over a long period.

The scooter boom is one of the reasons for daily traffic congestion, especially during peak hours, turning short commutes into tiring journeys.

The irony is that this growing dependence on personal vehicles is occurring even as the government continues to allocate funds to improve public transport.

In the financial year 2025–26, the Government of Mizoram has allocated over Rs 1,850 crore for public transport and road infrastructure, with Rs 40.17 crore specifically for public transport services, as mentioned on the Finance Department website.

This shows an increase in government expenditure from the previous year (approximately Rs 38.50 crore), but there has been no visible improvement in the utilisation of funds or implementation of public transport policies, as the results remain underwhelming.

Urban transport experts often talk about the “last mile” problem—the difficulty of connecting people from their homes to main routes. In Aizawl, the “last mile” is practically every mile. Buses are few in number, and even when available, they cannot access most of the city’s inner neighbourhoods because of steep gradients and narrow lanes.

Still, instead of investing in smaller, terrain-friendly public vehicles, the transport system continues to operate on a model designed for plains rather than hills. Cities like Gangtok and Shillong, which use electric vans and ride-sharing, offer a useful comparison.

This gap between policy and practicality reflects a deeper issue—the state’s lack of understanding of its citizens’ daily struggles. It is as if transport planning is done on paper, detached from the lived experience of people who climb hundreds of stairs or wind through hilly shortcuts to reach their destinations.

Freedom or necessity?

The youth of Aizawl do not seem to talk much about or express dissatisfaction with the government’s inaction. They have adjusted, perhaps too well, and accepted the transportation issues as a resolved challenge.

Scooters give them mobility and autonomy, but they also quietly normalise the idea that public systems are not reliable. Over time, this changes expectations—from demanding better services to simply finding individual workarounds.

Aizawl’s urban identity is being shaped not by government policy but by adaptation. And while that might seem like resilience, it is also a reflection of systemic neglect over a long period.

Also Read: Explained: Why SC pulled up the Centre on Northeast citizens’ safety