Riding a motorcycle in India is not just a way of commuting, it is also a passion, often a lifelong dream. For many young men and women, buying a Royal Enfield, a Jawa, a Himalayan, a Bajaj Dominar, or even a KTM is a reward to themselves after years of saving. But the moment you cross the line of 350cc, the cost of that dream becomes almost punishing. The government has classified motorcycles above this mark as luxury goods, bringing them under a steep 40% GST slab. What this means is simple: for every rupee you spend on the bike, you are forced to add almost half the cost more in tax. And the frustrating part is not just the money—it is the irony that the person paying such a premium ends up riding on roads filled with potholes, broken speed bumps, sudden craters, and unsafe detours. If there is luxury here, it belongs entirely to the government’s revenue, not to the rider.

This tax structure was built on an old assumption, one that no longer fits India of today. Perhaps twenty or thirty years ago, a 350cc motorcycle was rare, heavy, and aspirational. Most Indians rode 100cc or 150cc workhorses, and only the wealthy few could afford something bigger. That logic is outdated. The two-wheeler market has evolved, and so has the rider. Now even commuter scooters touch 125cc or above. Daily motorcycles go as far as 200cc. Touring bikes that middle-class families use for long-distance rides usually start around 300cc. In this world, calling 350cc a luxury is lazy thinking. It punishes ordinary aspiration by pricing it like a sin.

The argument falls further apart when we see the condition of Indian roads. If the 40% GST collected from buyers actually went into building smooth highways, scientifically designed speed breakers, and well-maintained city surfaces, perhaps one could accept the burden. But every rider knows the truth. Our roads collapse every monsoon. Cities flood within hours of heavy rain. Newly built flyovers develop cracks almost immediately. Villages continue to have mud paths. And in almost every corner, potholes cause injuries and deaths. In such a landscape, asking people to pay luxury tax for bikes is like adding an insult to injury. The very infrastructure that should justify tax collection is in ruins. Instead of a premium experience, riders are thrown into danger, forced to constantly dodge craters, bend rims, break suspensions, and risk their lives with every ride after paying lakhs extra in unnecessary taxation.

The mismatch becomes clearer when we compare this with global practices. In Europe and the US, bigger motorcycles are actually encouraged, because they reduce congestion compared to cars and carry better safety features. Governments often give subsidies for electric bikes or make road tax flat, not engine-based. In Japan, motorcycles are taxed more on emissions than cubic capacity. Thailand and Indonesia treat 300–500cc bikes as everyday machines and make them affordable. India, instead of learning, keeps clinging to a mindset that anything above 350cc is luxury, even though the 350cc Royal Enfield is commonly used by police units, army convoys, farmers, as well as touring families. Are all of them indulging in luxury? The double standards are hard to ignore, especially because the same government rides these very motorcycles for official use, but calls them “luxury” when citizens buy them.

The result is damaging to everyone. For riders, it blocks the dream of owning bikes that could have been affordable if not for the exaggerated GST. For manufacturers, it reduces demand and discourages local production, as fewer people can buy. For the economy, it cuts into long-term revenue—high taxes lower the number of buyers, which in turn lowers overall growth. Instead of building a vibrant motorcycle culture, India ends up keeping it exclusive. What could have been a mass movement of affordable mid-size bikes ends up being a niche playground for those who can afford to pay extra. Ironically, this also strengthens imports instead of local brands, which is opposite of what India says it wants for “Make in India.”

There is also the simple matter of safety. Potholes are not just ugly, they kill. Year after year, reports confirm that riders suffer the most, losing balance and colliding fatally at poorly maintained stretches. If the government truly believes in road safety, then lowering taxes and using that broader revenue base to actually fix the roads makes more moral and economic sense. Instead, the state collects from fewer people at a higher rate, and gives nothing in return. It becomes hard not to frame it as plain unfairness. Riders are practically paying premium tax to suffer at premium risk.

What riders actually want is very simple. They are not asking for motorcycles to be tax-free. They are asking for fairness. A sensible slab that recognizes 350cc is not luxury anymore. A system that collects taxes at a moderate rate but invests visibly in road quality, signage, drainage, and safety. A recognition that passion does not equal privilege. And most importantly, leadership that understands on-the-ground reality. Many decisions seem to be taken in isolation, by people sitting in air-conditioned offices, shielded by motorcades, who rarely know the experience of negotiating traffic or sudden potholes on two wheels. If they even once rode on these roads themselves, they would know how ridiculous it is to call a middle-class 350cc bike luxurious.

It is a bitter way of expressing anger, but it rings true for lakhs of riders. The symbolism is strong—a dream is penalized as luxury, a practical vehicle is punished as indulgence, while dangerous roads remain unaddressed. The government has built a perfect contradiction: tax the people for better services, and then never give those services.

India’s youth deserves better. They deserve to dream, to ride, to travel safely, and to experience motorcycling without being told it is sinfully luxurious. The industry deserves growth, not suffocation. The country deserves policy that reflects modern reality, not outdated assumptions. Until then, every rider buying something above 350cc will feel this pinch doubly—first on their wallet, and then on their bones when they meet the next pothole. And so the question stays: do we really need 40% GST on bikes, or do we just need leaders who finally ride on the same broken roads as the rest of us?

With inputs from agencies

Image Source: Multiple agencies

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