At 6.30 every morning, Lakshmi steps out of her small tiled house in a sleepy suburb of Mysuru. One hand clutches her tiffin, the other her faded handbag. Until two years ago, her biggest daily worry was not the workload at the private school where she works as an assistant, but the bus fare. Some days she walked. Some days she borrowed. Some days she simply skipped work. Then came Shakti and Lakshmi’s world quietly shifted gears.

Launched on June 11, 2023, the Karnataka government’s Shakti scheme did something radical in its simplicity: it made bus travel free for women and transgender persons on non-premium state buses. No smart cards, no forms, no queues. Just show an Aadhaar or ID, get a zero-fare ticket, and move. For Lakshmi, that small piece of paper was not a ticket; it was permission to breathe.

From villages to cities, from factory gates to college campuses, Shakti has redrawn Karnataka’s mobility map. In just over two years, more than 500 crore free tickets have been issued. That number is not just a statistic; it is a rolling census of freedom.

In the first six months alone, over 62 lakh women boarded buses they once hesitated to take. By 2025, women made up nearly 60 per cent of passengers on key Bengaluru routes, changing the very character of public transport. Buses, once male-dominated spaces of elbows and impatience, now hum with chatter, laughter, sarees, backpacks, and confidence.

For daily wage earners like Lakshmi, the math is simple and life-changing. She saves around ₹700 a week, money that earlier vanished into conductors’ hands. That saving now pays for her daughter’s notebooks, a doctor’s visit, or an extra vegetable in the curry. Surveys show 80 per cent of beneficiaries save between ₹500 and ₹1,000 every week. In poor households, that is not “extra income”; that is survival with dignity.

Independent studies back what women already know. A large survey across 15 districts found Shakti had a 96 per cent reach, the highest among Karnataka’s welfare schemes. Over 91 per cent of women reported improved financial conditions, and nearly one in five found new or better jobs. In districts like Chikkamagaluru and Bengaluru Urban, the impact on employment was dramatic.

Another study tracking nearly three crore BMTC trips showed what mobility really unlocks: access. More women reached workplaces, colleges, hospitals, courts, and markets. Healthcare access improved for over 80 per cent. For many, it was the first time they travelled alone, without asking a husband, brother, or son for money.

In smaller towns, the ripple effects are even more visible. Women farmers in Hassan save ₹200 a day. Vendors in Mandya now travel farther to better markets in Mysuru. Garment workers, students, and elderly women visiting children have become the most regular riders. A conductor in Tumakuru summed it up simply: “Earlier buses were half-empty. Now they are full of women and stories.”

Shakti has also quietly rewritten social rules. When women travel in groups, public spaces feel safer. When buses fill with women, streets change tone. Parents are more willing to send daughters to colleges farther away. Families meet more often. Over 80 per cent of women say they now visit relatives more frequently, strengthening bonds and independence alike.

Yes, problems remain. Buses are crowded. Bus stops are far. Conductors are overworked. About 85 per cent of women complain of rush and distance. These are real issues, but they are problems of success, not failure. They demand more buses, better planning, and sustained investment.

For Lakshmi, policy debates are distant. What she knows is this: she no longer calculates her life in rupees per ride. She dreams differently now, maybe a better job, maybe evening classes, maybe just the confidence to say yes to opportunity.

Shakti proves an old truth: when women move freely, society moves forward. Sometimes, empowerment does not need a slogan. It just needs a free seat on a bus, and the courage to climb aboard.