For generations, India’s labour laws were built to protect the “working man” — a figure who reported to a factory gate or an office floor, worked fixed hours, and drew a salary from a clearly defined employer. His struggles were visible, his unions organized, his rights negotiable.
But that man has changed. He now rides a two-wheeler with a delivery box, logs into an app instead of an attendance register, and waits not for a supervisor’s approval but for a notification tone. The workplace has shifted from brick to digital, yet the worker’s vulnerability remains alarmingly familiar — and, in some ways, even more severe.
| “Gig workers are called partners, but treated as employees without rights. The law must choose a side.” |
The gig economy, once celebrated as a symbol of flexibility and freedom, has revealed its hidden costs. A delivery rider can be “deactivated” overnight by an algorithm, with no explanation or appeal. A cab driver may work twelve hours a day and still earn less than minimum wage after commissions, fuel, and penalties. A warehouse associate might be tracked and rated by sensors that measure “efficiency,” reducing human effort to metrics.
The traditional protections — health insurance, paid leave, pension, or workplace safety — seldom apply to them. The platforms they depend on often classify them as “independent partners,” absolving themselves of employer responsibilities while retaining control over pricing, incentives, and performance monitoring. The illusion of independence hides an asymmetry of power.
The consequences extend beyond economics. These workers lack a social identity within the legal system. They are not covered under the Industrial Disputes Act, nor do they enjoy the benefits available to organized labour. When injured on duty, they often rely on informal crowdfunding or personal savings. When their income stops, there is no safety net.
India’s Code on Social Security (2020) attempted to bridge this gap by formally acknowledging gig and platform workers. It envisions the creation of a National Social Security Board to design benefit schemes for them. But four years later, implementation remains slow, fragmented, and largely symbolic. The gap between recognition and reality persists.
In conversations with many gig workers, a recurring sentiment emerges — they do not seek charity; they seek clarity. Who is accountable when things go wrong? Is it the platform, the aggregator, or the government? Their demand is not merely for protection, but for legal identity. Without it, justice remains theoretical.
There are positive examples to draw from. Rajasthan’s Platform-Based Gig Workers (Registration and Welfare) Act, 2023, became India’s first state law to create a dedicated welfare fund for gig workers, financed through contributions from aggregators. It is an encouraging start — proof that the invisible workforce can be brought into the legal fold with political will and social vision.
But reforms must go further. The future calls for portable benefits — where a worker’s social protections travel with him across platforms and employers. It also calls for data transparency — algorithms that can be audited for fairness, and payment systems that disclose how earnings are calculated. These measures do not hinder business; they humanize it.
Globally, countries are already redefining the rights of platform workers. The UK Supreme Court, in the landmark Uber BV v. Aslam (2021) case, ruled that drivers were “workers” entitled to minimum wage and holiday pay. The European Union’s Gig Work Directive similarly ensures that digital workers cannot be misclassified as independent contractors without proof. India, with its massive informal workforce, cannot afford to lag behind.
Ultimately, the challenge is not technological but moral. Labour law must remember its purpose — not merely to regulate contracts, but to uphold dignity. Whether he works on a shop floor or a smartphone, the working man deserves recognition as a stakeholder, not a statistic.
He is no longer waiting at the factory gate. He’s waiting at the next delivery point, the next client call, the next ride request — still working, still building, still invisible.
The law must find him there.