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Opinion The Indian gig economy is running on forced labour

As India debates the future of work, the central question is not whether gig platforms are efficient, scalable, or profitable. It is whether technological innovation can be allowed to normalise constitutional violations

gig economy, gig worker, Blinkit, ZomatoAs India debates the future of work, the central question is not whether gig platforms are efficient, scalable, or profitable
5 min readJan 16, 2026 06:15 PM IST First published on: Jan 16, 2026 at 06:15 PM IST

Written by Nirmal Gorana and Pankhuri Agarwal

India’s gig economy is often celebrated as a symbol of innovation, flexibility, and entrepreneurial freedom. A Niti Aayog report estimated that there were 7.7 million gig workers in 2020–21, projected to rise to 23.5 million by 2029-2030. Food and groceries delivered in 10 minutes, cabs available at the tap of a screen, and apps promising “be your own boss” have become everyday conveniences for urban consumers. Yet, behind this digital sheen lies a harsher reality, one that raises serious constitutional and human rights concerns.

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At its core, much of gig work in India today resembles a form of forced labour, driven not by chains or contracts, but by economic coercion, algorithmic control, and the constant threat of punishment. This is not merely a moral claim; it is a legal one. What the apps call innovation, Article 23 of the Indian Constitution calls forced labour.

Under Article 23 of the Constitution of India, forced labour is prohibited in all its forms. More than four decades ago, the Supreme Court clarified in People’s Union for Democratic Rights vs Union of India (the Asiad Workers’ Case, 1982) that “force” is not limited to physical or legal compulsion. Labour extracted through economic necessity, where workers have no real choice but to submit, also constitutes forced labour. This constitutional interpretation is especially relevant today.

Recent news reports of delivery workers collapsing from exhaustion, racing against unrealistic time targets, or being penalised for delays beyond their control highlight how speed and efficiency are extracted at the cost of human dignity. Delivery times are fixed, performance is tracked through opaque metrics, and penalties are imposed automatically, through reduced pay, withdrawal of incentives, or sudden deactivation of the workers’ IDs. For workers who rely on daily earnings to survive, opting out is not a real choice. Falling short of a target, rejecting too many orders, or being delayed by traffic, weather, or sheer exhaustion can mean instant loss of income.

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This situation is compounded by low and insecure wages, with no paid leave, health insurance, or accident cover. The human cost is stark. In India, nine bike riders die every hour, with the growing pressure on gig workers to deliver faster being a significant contributing factor. Official road safety data further reveals that in 2025 alone (up to September), 91 gig workers were injured or killed in road accidents across Hyderabad, Cyberabad, and Rachakonda, amounting to roughly one accident every three days.
The risks are not limited to traffic fatalities. In a 2023 case in Delhi, a female Uber driver who was attacked with a broken bottle reported that no assistance arrived despite repeatedly pressing the app’s SOS button. As workers have noted, platform safety systems are deeply unreliable. Whether facing heavy rain, extreme heat of 45°C, or working late-night shifts, workers are pushed to continue in order to secure incentives. Missing a delivery deadline often means losing pay altogether. In this context, ultra-fast delivery models, such as 10-minute delivery promises by apps like Blinkit, are increasingly experienced by workers not as innovation but as a dangerous race against time, impacting both their physical and mental health.

Crucially, this exploitation does not unfold in a social vacuum. Caste powerfully shapes who enters gig work and who bears its harshest costs. Platform labour markets are overwhelmingly staffed by Dalit, Bahujan, Adivasi, and migrant workers, communities that have long been pushed into precarious, informal, and stigmatised forms of labour. These dynamics are visible both in recruitment and in the everyday operations of the gig economy. In cities like Bengaluru, Urban Company, for instance, has actively recruited workers from informal settlements and slums for cleaning and housekeeping roles, reinforcing the concentration of marginalised communities in sanitation work. Once on the job, discrimination becomes routine. Delivery workers and cab drivers in Gujarat report being compelled to hide their surnames on apps to avoid caste-based prejudice. In restaurants, delivery workers are often made to use separate entrances, while customers may refuse to accept orders directly from their hands, instead instructing them to leave parcels outside. In gated communities across cities like New Delhi, separate service lifts are designated for delivery workers and other “support staff”, visibly marking them as socially inferior.

Recognising forced labour in the gig economy does not require new ethical frameworks or radical legal innovation. It requires the honest application of constitutional principles already in place. If workers cannot refuse work without risking hunger, homelessness, or exclusion from the labour market, free will is a fiction. It is forced labour and in violation of Article 23 of the Indian Constitution.

As India debates the future of work, the central question is not whether gig platforms are efficient, scalable, or profitable. It is whether technological innovation can be allowed to normalise constitutional violations.

Gorana is the convenor of the National Coordinator of Gig and Platform Service Workers Union (GIPSWU), and Agarwal is a researcher at King’s College London

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