Reclaiming the Roads

One Pedal Stroke at a Time
by Yasir Khan

The biting chill of the morning air nipped at my cheeks as I stood at my gate in DHA Rawalpindi, wrestling with my Garmin. The familiar dance of coaxing a GPS signal on my activity tracker felt different this morning, heavy with a longing for a time when cycling in the twin cities was less a battle against steel and exhaust and more a ballet of freedom on two wheels.

A nostalgic reflection on Islamabad’s past, where autumn 2013 was a season of freedom and possibility. Motorists, surprisingly courteous in my memory, would give me a wide berth, a gesture of respect that feels almost alien in today’s urban jungle. I remember the uncomplicated joy of parking my bike at the foot of the famous Islamabad Trail 5, conquering the winding climb, and then coasting home under a sky painted with the soft hues of twilight. These memories, like cherished photographs tucked away in the album of my mind, are bittersweet reminders of what Islamabad once was, and what it could be again.

Divided Twin Cities
Our cycling community, much like the twin cities it inhabits, reflects this duality.We are a divided tribe. There are the passionate cyclists, the MAMILs (Middle-Aged Men/Women In Lycra) like myself, who pour our hearts and wallets into the sport, chasing the elusive perfect ride. We are the weekend warriors, the ones who find solace and exhilaration in the rhythm of our pedals, the wind in our helmets, the burn in our quads. And then there are the everyday heroes, the unsung cyclists: the commuters: The Malis (gardeners) pedalling to their destination before the sun rises and office workers unable to afford motorcycles navigating crowded roads on their trusty Sohrabs. They cycle not for leisure, but out of necessity, facing the daily grind with quiet resilience. They are part of the backbone of our city, yet they are often the most invisible, the most vulnerable.

The constant addition of “signal-free corridors” and flyovers prioritises speed over the well-being of residents, presenting a city designed primarily for car owners. While the recent Bicycle Lane Project (BLP) aims to establish a 374-km cycling network with safer lanes starting on Jinnah Avenue and Margalla Road, the concern remains whether these initiatives will extend beyond affluent areas to benefit those who truly need them. The limited bike lanes often feel like a superficial nod to sustainability rather than a genuine commitment to cycling infrastructure. Instead of alleviating congestion, the widening roads create a more dangerous environment for cyclists. In discussions within intelligentsia share a growing awareness of how these expansions further marginalise vulnerable communities. Ultimately, the sprawling road expansion projects seem to sideline everyone but car owners, forcing others to navigate the margins of the city.

A Fleeting Utopia
The year 2020, a year etched in our collective consciousness for its global tragedy, offered a strange and unexpected reprieve. The pandemic emptied the roads, and for a brief, shining moment, The twin cities transformed into a cycling paradise. The silence, broken only by the whir of wheels. I clocked nearly 4,000 kilometres that year, a testament to the transformative power of empty roads. It was a fleeting utopia, a reminder that another world is possible.

But as life limped back to normal, so too did the chaos. The roads filled up again with motorcyclists and cars emerged as a threat to cyclists as moving targets.
Cycling, at its heart, is an act of faith, a belief in the shared responsibility of the road. It’s a belief that we, as cyclists, have a right to navigate our city without fear and that motorists will respect our presence.

I remember one particularly harrowing incident on a DHA climb. A motorcyclist suddenly slammed his hand into my back as a prank, causing me to fall hard onto the asphalt. He sped away, laughing, disappearing into the traffic. I was left shaken, furious, and bruised, reflecting on how quickly joy can turn to terror on these roads.
In that moment, I recalled the words of Rumi: “Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames.” It’s a fire fuelled by the memory of safer roads and by the desire for a more just and equitable city.

A Vision for the Future
As I envision the future of the twin cities, I see the bicycle as the key to unlocking a more sustainable, equitable, and vibrant urban landscape.We need to look to cities like Amsterdam and Copenhagen, which have transformed themselves into cycling havens not by expanding highways, but by prioritising people over cars. Protected bike lanes, enforced lower speed limits, and integrated public transport systems are not utopian fantasies; they are proven solutions that can dramatically improve urban life. As we desire a sustainable and equitable green lifestyle and economic measures, the twin-cities must consider dedicated car-free zones, a network of public trains, trams, and buses connecting every corner of the city, and traffic protocols that discourage polluting vehicles.

While groups like the Critical Mass Islamabad (CMI), MTB Islamabad (MTBi) and Islamabad Cycling Association (ICA) are doing important work raising awareness for cyclists’ rights, the real change must come from a collective shift in priorities. We need a fundamental rethinking of how we design and manage our cities, a move away from the car-centric model and towards a more people-centric approach.This isn’t just about building bike lanes; it’s about changing hearts and minds and fostering a culture of respect and shared responsibility on the road.

“It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country’s soul.” – Ernest Hemingway. This quote, so evocative and true, speaks to the intimate connection between cycling and the spirit of a city, the way it allows you to feel its pulse, to understand its rhythms.

yasirkk@gmail.com