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She works 12 hours, earns Rs 1,000: How gig work is opening doors for women — but not without challenges

Household work was one of the last frontiers to fall to India’s surging online platforms economy. Algorithmically managed, GPS-tracked, on-demand household labour has now arrived in a sector that has been historically dependent on migrant flows, cash transactions, and area-specific word-of-mouth networks. For the women who form the worker base on these apps, gig work is a split-screen – for some it promises freedom and predictability, for others the uniform is an identifier they’d rather not display.

Gig workers womenHousehold work was one ofthe lastfrontiers to fall to India’s surging online platforms economy.

One chilly December morning, a group of eight women sat together on the sidewalk next to an overbridge in Noida’s Sector 76, chatting and sipping tea from plastic cups, their bright pink uniforms a splash of colour in the smoggy, dusty, grey surroundings.

This was their adda, they said — their hangout between assignments from Snabbit, an app-based services provider offering “home chore assistance within 10 minutes”.

Most women said their families belonged originally to West Bengal, Bihar, or Uttar Pradesh. Their workday stretched to 12 hours — including, apart from the actual time spent cleaning, washing, or doing the laundry, logging on, waiting, and travelling from one housing society to another.

But it paid better than anything they had done earlier, the women said.

“My income has roughly doubled,” said 32-year-old Meera from Nadia district in West Bengal, who worked earlier with another app-based provider of home services and solutions.

“There”, Meera added, “there was no weekly off, and if we worked for less than 6 hours, we’d be docked from the previous day’s pay.”

Renu (28) from Darbhanga in Bihar, who worked with the same company earlier, said the pressure was constant, and penalties were often imposed without warning or explanation.

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In contrast, “here, a 12-hour day earns us Rs 1,000 even if there is only one order,” Meera said. Monthly earnings are more predictable and the incentives are attractive, Renu said — “A Rs-20 bonus for logging in 15 minutes early, weekend rates of Rs 1,200, bonuses based on ratings… It all adds up to the total income.”

These women have done other kinds of work before — as domestic workers and nannies, at factory lines and quick commerce hubs, behind reception desks and running back-office errands — and never made more than Rs 14,000-16,000.

“I earned Rs 8,500 at an AC parts unit,” Sushma (26) said. “Now, with overtime pay, I sometimes make more than Rs 1,000 in a day.”

Most of the women said they had entered the platform through a referral system, and that they liked the anonymity of gig work.

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Gig workers women Thewomen at the Noida Sector 76 overbridge seemed confident, happywith their gig incomes.

“It is easier to work for people you don’t know,” said Guddi from Lucknow. “The mistress of the house tends to take domestic workers for granted, and shouts at them frequently. Here, we’re meeting people for the first time, and they are generally more restrained.”

Still, there is a certain comfort and confidence that comes from going to the same home every day, knowing where things were kept, what an employer likes or dislikes, and whom to avoid.

“Yahaan roz naya ghar, naye log, naye mijaaz (Here it’s new homes, new people, new temperaments every day),” one of the women said.

***

While being on a digital platform earns the women more money, they still have only the cold, dusty sidewalk to sit on between gigs. And for some, the uniforms they wear are visible identifiers that they’d rather not have.

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“There should be a place for us to change back into regular clothes. Many of us don’t want everyone to know what we do, and it is uncomfortable to go back home wearing these uniforms. In winter, there are warm clothes to cover the shirt, but it can’t be hidden at other times,” Meera said.

About 4 km away in Noida’s Sector 100, another group of women sat on plastic sheets spread out in a park, and instinctively turned their backs every time an area resident walked past. Most of them declined to give their names to The Indian Express.

“Residents of nearby housing societies don’t want us to sit here. Some of them have threatened to call the police.

If that happens, our families will get to know that we work in other people’s homes,” one of the women said.

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Unlike the group under the overbridge, these women were mostly first-time platform workers from UP and Rajasthan.

Their anxieties seemed sharper, and they saw their uniforms less as workwear and more as exposure that could bring them shame or embarrassment.

“People who are unfamiliar with the company Google the name on our shirts,” a woman in her 20s said. “Some people form opinions when they realise we go to unknown homes to work every day, so we have to lie and tell them that we do ‘office’ or ‘registration’ work for the app.”

Some of these women have not told their in-laws, neighbours, or even their husbands that they are on the platform. “Log ladki ko kuchh bhi karte dekhte hain toh judge karte hain. (People judge women for everything they do),” said another woman in the group.

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The wait for an assignment wears them down, the women said. “There’s no shade, no restroom, no place to change… and the park is filthy,” one of them said. “People who don’t know how these apps work look at us like we are thieves.”

One woman narrated her story: “A madam claimed her husband’s phone was missing, and I had taken it. She made me remove all my sweaters to search me. She later found the phone under their blanket.”

Gig workers Those in the Sector 100 group looked nervous, conscious that local
residents did not like themwaiting in the park for their assignments.

People often seek domestic chore services when their regular help is on leave, or they need deeper cleaning ahead of festivals or weddings, or when guests arrive unexpectedly. The demands they make are sometimes unreasonable, the women said.

“One-hour ka order hota hai,” a woman in the Sector 100 park said, referring to a short one-hour service that Snabbit offered for a promotional price in some places last year. “But they expect three hours of washing, even men’s underwear, cleaning of bathrooms, all kinds of things.”

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Sometimes, the women get reassigned to homes of customers they have previously reported for abusive behaviour. “We have to beg the team leader to change the assignment.”

The “team leader” has responsibility for gig workers in a specific sector or neighbourhood. He typically patrols the area on a two-wheeler, ferrying the women from one society to another, tracking client orders and, if needed, intervening to sort out conflicts.

***

Household work was one of the last frontiers to fall to India’s surging online platforms economy.

Urban Company started with providing beauty services at home, and subsequently, cleaners, plumbers, painters, and technicians. In 2024, Snabbit and Pronto arrived in major Indian cities, offering algorithmically managed, GPS-tracked, on-demand household labour in a sector that was historically dependent on migrant flows, cash transactions, and area-specific word-of-mouth networks.

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In keeping with the structure of the traditional “maid” system, the worker base of these apps is primarily women. Once enrolled though, the workers — or “experts”, as Snabbit calls them — are put through ‘finishing school’ for a few days to ensure they are able to handle tasks and situations they may not be familiar with.
The importance of politeness and grooming is emphasised, the women said, and they are taught the ‘correct’ way to sit and stand, and how to behave during breaks at work.

“Kaise professionally baatein karni hain, jaate samay aur aate samay kya, kaise bolna hai. (How do you interact professionally, what do you say while entering or leaving and how),” Sushma said. “Kapde kaise saaf rakhne hain, baal kaise banana hai. Kaan ya naak mein bade jewellery nahi pehne, bindi chhoti lagaani hai. Halka sa lip balm lagaake rakhna hai, roz moisturiser lagaana hai. (Clothes must be clean, hair groomed; no big earrings or nose studs, a small bindi; light lip balm, daily use of moisturiser on the skin.)”

Also, “Madam se kaise behave karna hai — agar woh gussa bhi karein toh bhi achchhe se baat karni hai. (How to behave with the client; talk politely even when shouted at.)”

“Professional banna padta hai,” Guddi said. “Phone pe zyada nahin rehna, kaam poora karke hi nikalna. (You have to be professional. Not talk for long on the phone, and leave no work unfinished.)”

A spokesperson for Snabbit said workers on the platform are classified as “independent contractors” who are treated not as casual or ad hoc labour but as “long-term partners…with structured onboarding, training, and ongoing support”.

They sign detailed agreements that are “open ended and can be terminated by either party in accordance with the terms defined in the agreement”, the spokesperson said.

Snabbit makes monthly payments to workers, many of whom, it says, prefer to receive a consolidated monthly income rather than smaller weekly or daily payouts. The company offers performance incentives based on a combination of customer ratings and feedback, attendance and reliability, and professional behaviour and conduct, the spokesperson said.

Snabbit did not specify how much a worker typically makes in a month, but a spokesperson for Pronto said “professionals can earn up to Rs 40,000 depending on the city and the number of bookings”.

On workers’ complaints of inadequate facilities for rest, meals, and during wait times, the Snabbit spokesperson said “adequate time is built into schedules for lunch breaks, and the time cost is borne by the company”. The spokesperson said the focus was on addressing these concerns “at a micro-market level” through “practical, real-world solutions rather than generic policies”.

The spokesperson for Pronto said their professionals’ “hubs” have “seating/ resting spaces, water, [mobile phone] charging points, first aid, [and] female hygiene requirements”. There is an option for workers to bring their children to work in some cases, the spokesperson said.

The Snabbit spokesperson claimed the company provides “access to health and accident insurance for its Experts” in the range of Rs 1 lakh to 4 lakh, “depending on how long an Expert has been with Snabbit and their rating category”.

Saman Husain is a Correspondent at The Indian Express. Based in New Delhi, she is an emerging voice in political journalism, reporting on civic governance, elections, migration, and the social consequences of policy, with a focus on ground-reporting across Delhi-NCR and western Uttar Pradesh. Professional Profile Education: She holds a Bachelor’s degree in Political Science (Honours) from Kirori Mal College, University of Delhi, and is an alumna of the Asian College of Journalism (ACJ), Chennai. Core Beats: Her reporting focuses on the national capital’s governance and politics. She specializes in Delhi’s civic administration and the city units of the BJP, AAP and Congress. In western Uttar Pradesh, she mostly reports on crime. Specialization: She has a keen interest in electoral processes and politics — her recent contributions include work on electoral roll revisions. Recent Notable Articles (since July 2025) Her recent work reflects a strong show-not-tell approach to storytelling, combining narrative reporting with political and historical context: 1. Politics: “On the banks of the Yamuna, a political tussle for Purvanchali support” (October 6): A report on how migration histories shaped electoral strategies in Delhi before the Bihar elections. “Explained: How Delhi’s natural drainage vanished gradually over the centuries” (September 29): An explanatory piece tracing the historical reasons that eventually led to the erosion of Delhi’s rivers and its impact on perrenial flooding. 2. Longforms “Four weddings, three funerals: How a Uttar Pradesh man swindled insurance companies” (October 7): A long-read reconstructing a chilling fraud by a man who killed three of his family members, including both his parents for insurance proceeds. His fourth wife discovered his fraud… “How Ghaziabad conman operated fake embassy of a country that doesn’t exist — for 9 years” (July 27) : A story on bizarre fraud operation and the institutional blind spots that enabled it. 3. Crime and Justice: “He was 8 when his father was killed. Fifteen years later, in UP’s Shamli, he took revenge” (October 18): A deeply reported crime story tracing cycles of violence, memory and justice in rural Uttar Pradesh. “Who killed 19 girls in Nithari? With the SC rejecting appeals, there are no answers and no closure” (July 31): A report capturing the long legal and emotional aftermath of one of India’s most chilling unsolved criminal cases. 4. Policy Impact “At Manthan, over US tariffs, Delhi-NCR’s apparel industry brainstorms solutions” (September 8) and “Trump’s 50% tariff begins to bite: Agra’s leather belt feels the impact” (August 13) : Reports documenting how global trade decisions ripple through local industries, workers and exporters. Signature Style Saman is recognized for her grassroots storytelling. Her articles often focus on the "people behind the policy". She is particularly skilled at taking mundane administrative processes and turning them into compelling human narratives. X (Twitter): @SamanHusain9 ... Read More

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