In the past week, hundreds of Zepto delivery workers in Hyderabad have gone on an indefinite strike. Their demands are basic: Fair pay, decent working hours, social security, and dignity. These are not new demands, nor are they unreasonable. Coordinated by the Telangana Gig and Platform Workers’ Union (TGPWU), the strike follows a growing pattern of worker unrest across India’s platform economy — from Blinkit to Swiggy — where the promise of entrepreneurial freedom has worn thin under the weight of wage theft, surveillance, and hyper-precarity.
In Delhi, 50 Zepto workers recently filed a complaint alleging they were lured from rural areas with promises of ₹30,000 per month, free food, and accommodation. Upon arrival, they faced substandard living conditions, pay cuts, and withheld wages. Zepto has since responded with a familiar script: Distancing itself from the workers through legalistic disavowals. “We are a technology platform,” the company claims. “Vendors are responsible for hiring and payment.”
This arm’s-length logic is by design. It allows platforms to maintain granular algorithmic control — via GPS tracking, performance ratings, and app-based scheduling — while denying any legal responsibility as employers, as has been documented by People’s Union for Democratic Rights’ Report 2021. Meanwhile, Zepto Cafe pausing services in some locations, thereby affecting 44 stores and 700 gig workers, shows platform capital treats labour as disposable — plugged into the supply chain when needed, discarded when not. It’s not just a pause; it’s the logic of exploitation in motion.
These are not isolated incidents of corporate malfeasance. They reveal something far more structural: The hollowness of India’s legal and policy framework for gig and platform workers. Despite repeated gestures toward recognition — most recently in the Union Budget 2025 and the Code on Social Security, 2020 — India’s gig and platform workers remain in a zone of legal abandonment. The Zepto strike shatters the illusion that formal recognition in law translates into material rights.
State as database manager, not protector
The contradictions in India’s approach to platform labour are stark. In 2008, the Unorganised Workers’ Social Security Act was passed to provide a basic welfare framework for workers outside the formal economy. It defined “unorganised workers” broadly enough to arguably include gig workers. Yet, when Senior Advocate S Muralidhar recently appeared before the Supreme Court on behalf of the Indian Federation of App-Based Transport Workers (IFAT), the petition did not even seek relief — it sought a mere clarification. Do gig workers fall under the Act’s scope? The fact that this question still lacks a definitive legal answer reveals the abyss in which workers are suspended.
The 2020 Code on Social Security was hailed as a breakthrough: It was the first time “gig and platform workers” were defined in Indian law [Section 2(35) and 2(61), respectively]. Yet this recognition remains inert. The Code has never been notified, which means it has no legal force.
Meanwhile, the government insists that schemes under the Code are “being formulated.” This formulation has now been “ongoing” for over four years. Under the Code on Social Security, 2020, two key schemes were envisioned for gig and platform workers:
National Social Security Board for Gig and Platform Workers: A body meant to recommend and oversee social security schemes for gig workers without ensuring universal social security for platform workers.
Voluntary Registration and Contribution-Based Welfare: The Code allows for workers to self-register on a central portal. Aggregators (platform companies like Zepto, Swiggy, Ola, etc.) are expected to register their workers on the e-Shram portal. Upon registration, platform workers will receive a Universal Account Number (UAN), which will allow them access to key social security benefits.
The e-Shram portal, introduced in 2021, was supposed to be a central database for unorganised workers, including gig workers. But data without rights is surveillance, not welfare. Registration has not translated into healthcare, accident insurance, or pension. The machinery of welfare exists on paper but is void of substance. The contradiction is clear: Gig workers are visible enough to be surveyed, counted, and claimed as beneficiaries in policy announcements. But they remain invisible in enforcement, excluded from labour protections, and denied bargaining rights.
Beyond welfare: The struggle for power
Despite the Centre’s inaction, certain states have begun experimenting with more robust protections for gig and platform workers — signaling that labour governance may be forced from the margins inward. In 2023, Rajasthan enacted the Platform-Based Gig Workers (Registration and Welfare) Act, mandating the creation of a welfare board and compelling platforms to contribute to a dedicated welfare fund. Karnataka followed in 2024 with the Karnataka Platform-Based Gig Workers (Social Security and Welfare) Bill, proposing a welfare cess ranging from 1 per cent to 5 per cent on each transaction or payout made by platforms to gig workers. The state government aims to operationalise the gig workers’ welfare fund by August 2025.
These subnational laws reflect growing political recognition of gig workers as a distinct labour constituency — one increasingly vocal, organised, and electorally visible. Yet their success depends on implementation, especially amid pushback from industry lobbies and jurisdictional ambiguities over labour regulation in a federal setup. Nonetheless, these initiatives challenge the Centre’s narrative of policy sufficiency and demonstrate that meaningful recognition can — and must — begin with redistributing control, not merely registering the governed.
Proposals like the 2 per cent deduction from workers’ earnings for social security raise further concerns. Without enforceable benefits, such deductions are not contributions — they are taxes on the poor. Moreover, corporate executives are candid in acknowledging that any costs related to worker welfare are ultimately passed on to consumers, revealing the inherent limits of voluntary corporate social responsibility.
In this way, the state’s role has shifted from genuinely transforming the gig economy to managing its precarious consequences: Offering health insurance or social security schemes funded through deductions may provide temporary relief, but these measures merely patch the symptoms of a deeper problem — platform business models that systematically externalise labour costs and evade employer responsibilities. Recognition becomes a technique of pacification, not empowerment. This is the new face of labour governance under platform capitalism: Symbolic inclusion in exchange for structural abandonment.
The ongoing protests go beyond demands for welfare — they call for dignity, accountability, and control over working conditions. Gig workers are not seeking handouts but power: The right to unionise, bargain collectively, and reject exploitation. The Zepto strike, like recent actions at Swiggy and Blinkit, exposes the hollowness of legal recognition without enforceable rights. Real recognition must begin by acknowledging gig workers not as data points or beneficiaries, but as rights-bearing workers demanding justice and dignity.
The writer is Visiting Fellow at the Centre for the Study of Developing Societies (CSDS) and editor of the book Feminist Perspectives on Social Media
The Zepto strike, like recent actions at Swiggy and Blinkit, exposes the hollowness of legal recognition without enforceable rights. 
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