For years, speed has been the defining promise of India’s online delivery economy. Groceries in 10 minutes. Dinner in 20. A haircut kit or phone charger almost before you realise you need it. In the crowded streets of Mumbai, Delhi, Bengaluru and Hyderabad, fleets of delivery riders weaving through traffic became the most visible symbol of India’s tech-powered consumption boom.
Now, that promise is under serious threat.
Last week, the Indian government asked e-commerce and quick-commerce companies to halt 10-minute deliveries, drawing a sharp line under one of the most aggressively marketed innovations of the country’s start-up ecosystem. The directive came on the heels of a massive New Year’s Eve strike by an estimated 200,000 gig workers—delivery riders, drivers and couriers—who downed tools in protest against working conditions, pay structures and what they describe as opaque algorithmic control.
Together, the government intervention and the labour unrest have pushed India’s delivery platforms into what may prove to be their most consequential year yet. For an industry that has thrived on light regulation, cheap labour and relentless growth, 2026 looks set to be a year of reckoning.
The Rise of the 10-Minute Economy
The idea of ultra-fast delivery did not originate in India, but few countries embraced it with the same intensity. As the pandemic reshaped consumption habits, millions of urban Indians grew accustomed to ordering everything from groceries to medicines through apps such as Zomato, Swiggy, Blinkit and Instamart. Venture capital flooded in, funding dense networks of “dark stores” and aggressive customer acquisition strategies.
Speed became the differentiator. Platforms promised not just convenience, but instant gratification. Ten-minute delivery was marketed as a technological triumph—proof that algorithms, data and logistics could conquer the chaos of Indian cities.
For consumers, the benefits were obvious. For workers, the reality was far more complex.
The Strike That Changed the Conversation
On the last day of 2025, delivery workers across major cities staged a coordinated strike that brought parts of the industry to a halt. Their demands were wide-ranging: minimum wages, safer working conditions, greater transparency in pay calculations, and an end to what they alleged was arbitrary algorithmic decision-making—particularly around ratings, incentives and contract termination.
Central to the protest was opposition to the 10-minute delivery model, which workers argued created dangerous incentives to speed through traffic, ignore rest breaks and accept unreasonable workloads to maintain earnings.
The strike quickly became political. Trade unions backed the workers. Opposition politicians amplified their demands. And within days, the government stepped in, asking platforms to stop ultra-fast deliveries on safety grounds.
While the ban is not yet fully implemented, the message was unmistakable: the era of unchecked growth may be over.
A Gig Workforce Too Big to Ignore
India’s gig economy is no longer a fringe phenomenon. According to government estimates, the country has around 12 million gig workers today—a figure expected to double to 24 million by the end of the decade. Delivery workers form one of the largest and most visible segments of this workforce.
Unlike in many Western economies, where gig work is often framed as a side hustle, in India it has increasingly become full-time employment by default. A recent survey by consulting firm Primus Partners found that 61% of gig workers describe themselves as full-time employees. Only 35% consider their work part-time, and just 4% say it is seasonal or occasional.
For many young Indians, particularly those in their 20s, delivery work is not a stopgap but a long-term career—one chosen in the absence of stable jobs in manufacturing or services.
This reality complicates the argument made by platforms that gig work is inherently temporary and flexible.
Platforms Push Back
Delivery companies insist that they are being unfairly targeted. Founders argue that over-regulation could stifle one of the fastest-growing segments of the labour market, depriving millions of income opportunities in a country where job creation remains a persistent challenge.
Deepinder Goyal, founder and chief executive of Eternal—the company that owns Zomato and quick-commerce firm Blinkit—has been particularly vocal. In a series of posts on X earlier this month, Goyal defended his platforms’ record, claiming that Zomato and Blinkit delivered 75 million orders to 63 million customers on New Year’s Eve alone, despite the strike.
He dismissed striking workers as “miscreants” and argued that the 10-minute delivery model was not inherently unsafe. According to Goyal, speed is achieved not through reckless riding, but through the density of dark stores that reduce travel distances.
“If a system were fundamentally unfair, it would not consistently attract and retain so many people who choose to work within it,” he wrote, backing up his claim with data showing millions of active delivery partners.
Goyal also pointed to existing benefits, including insurance coverage, rest days and access to pension schemes. He argued that most delivery workers log only a few hours a day or a few days a month, and that the annual attrition rate—around 65%—shows these are not permanent jobs for most people.
For those who do work full-time, he said, monthly earnings of around 21,000 rupees (£173, $232), plus tips, compare favourably with wages in India’s vast informal economy.
The Hidden Costs of Speed
Critics are unconvinced. Labour economists and worker advocates argue that headline earnings figures obscure the true costs borne by delivery workers.
Onboarding fees, uniforms, smartphones, vehicles, fuel and maintenance are often paid out of pocket. Time spent waiting for orders or travelling back to high-demand zones is rarely compensated. Incentive structures, they argue, reward speed while penalising refusals or delays, effectively coercing workers into unsafe practices.
“The choice to work in such conditions is often not a real choice,” said Kasim Saiyyad, a PhD candidate at Cornell University who spent two months working as a food delivery rider as part of his research. “It reflects economic desperation rather than genuine flexibility.”
Saiyyad and others also challenge the idea that high participation proves fairness. In a country with limited formal employment opportunities, they argue, the abundance of workers says more about labour market failures than about the quality of gig work.
Algorithms as Bosses
At the heart of the dispute lies a more fundamental issue: control.
Delivery platforms classify workers as independent contractors, yet use algorithms to assign orders, calculate pay, evaluate performance and, in some cases, deactivate accounts. Workers often have little insight into how these systems operate or how decisions affecting their livelihoods are made.
This “algorithmic management” has become a flashpoint globally, and India is no exception. Workers say ratings systems can be unforgiving, incentives opaque, and penalties sudden. A poor score or rejected order can mean fewer assignments—or no work at all.
The demand for transparency in wage calculation and algorithmic decision-making was one of the central demands of the New Year’s Eve strike, and it remains unresolved.
A Regulatory Turning Point
The timing of the unrest is significant. India is on the cusp of implementing new labour codes that, for the first time, bring gig and platform workers under the ambit of labour law.
A new social security code set to come into effect this year introduces insurance coverage and social protection for gig workers who clock at least 90 days on a platform annually. It marks a major shift in policy, acknowledging that gig work is no longer marginal.
For platforms, this represents a material change in operating conditions. The additional costs of welfare provisions come at a time when profitability is already elusive.
According to estimates from HSBC research, food delivery margins in India hover between 2.5% and 4.5%, while quick-commerce grocery operations remain loss-making. Any increase in labour costs, combined with the uncertainty of strikes and regulatory scrutiny, threatens to squeeze margins further.
Markets Lose Confidence
Investors are already showing signs of unease. Swiggy’s stock has fallen around 15% in the past month, while Eternal has traded flat, reflecting concerns about rising costs and slowing growth.
For years, investors were willing to tolerate losses in exchange for scale and market dominance. That patience is wearing thin. Public markets are less forgiving than venture capital, and profitability timelines matter more than promises.
“The uncertainty around strikes and inflationary pressures on costs because of higher incentives will make 2026 challenging for these apps,” said Karan Taurani of Elara Capital.
Political Pressure Mounts
Labour unrest has found vocal allies in politics. Opposition leaders have pledged to raise gig workers’ issues in parliament and on the streets. Trade unions have warned of further strikes if platforms refuse to negotiate.
The government, meanwhile, is walking a tightrope. On one hand, it wants to encourage innovation, investment and job creation. On the other, it faces growing pressure to address precarious work, urban inequality and road safety.
The call to halt 10-minute deliveries reflects this balancing act: a symbolic intervention that signals concern without yet imposing a comprehensive ban.
Lessons From Abroad
India is not alone in grappling with the gig economy’s contradictions. Over the past five years, countries around the world have strengthened protections for platform workers.
In 2021, the UK Supreme Court ruled that Uber drivers are workers entitled to minimum wages and holiday pay. Singapore and Malaysia have enacted legislation to improve pay transparency, insurance coverage and dispute resolution for gig workers.
These global trends suggest that India’s delivery platforms are unlikely to escape regulation indefinitely. The question is not whether change is coming, but how far it will go.
The “Missing Middle”
Perhaps the most troubling implication of the current model is what experts describe as a “missing middle” in India’s labour market: millions of workers who power consumption and growth, but remain excluded from stability, protections and long-term mobility.
The Primus Partners survey warned that without structured pathways for advancement, gig work risks becoming a dead end. Only one in four workers surveyed had access to insurance or pension benefits, despite many viewing their roles as long-term careers.
The report called for minimum wages, better social protections and opportunities for upskilling—measures that would fundamentally reshape the economics of delivery platforms.
What Comes Next?
As 2026 unfolds, India’s online delivery ecosystem stands at a crossroads. Consumers have embraced convenience, but may soon face higher prices if platforms pass on rising costs. Workers are increasingly organised and vocal. Regulators are more assertive. Investors are cautious.
For platforms, the challenge will be to prove that their business models can survive without relying on extreme speed, regulatory arbitrage and worker precarity. For policymakers, the task is to strike a balance between protecting workers and preserving jobs in a fragile economy.
And for the millions of riders navigating India’s roads every day, the stakes could not be higher. This year may determine whether gig work evolves into a pathway to dignity and stability—or remains a symbol of growth built on fragile foundations.
One thing is certain: the age of unquestioned 10-minute deliveries is ending. What replaces it will shape the future of work, consumption and urban life in India for years to come.