That Sinking Feeling | My Phone Says “No Cabs Available” and Why It’s More Than an Inconvenience

You know the feeling. You’re running late. The rain has just started, a classic movie-style drizzle that’s just enough to make walking miserable. You pull out your phone, confident, thumb hovering over that familiar app. You tap. And there it is. The dreaded, desolate map. No cars. Or worse, a single, lonely icon twenty-five minutes away with a price that could fund a small space mission.

That was my Tuesday morning. My first thought? A string of words I can’t print here. My second thought? Ah. It must be another Ola Uber strike.

It’s become a grimly familiar routine in our cities. A sudden transport black hole. A surge of angry posts on social media. A day of chaos. And then, usually, things flicker back to normal. We forget. Until the next time. But this time, staring at that uselessly spinning icon on my screen, I felt something other than just irritation. I felt a sense of… inevitability. Because this isn’t just about us being late for work. It’s the symptom of a much bigger, much messier problem that’s been brewing for years.

This isn’t just a traffic jam. It’s a reckoning.

The Dream They Were Sold vs. The EMI They’re Paying

Let’s rewind a bit. Remember when these apps first launched? It was revolutionary. Magic, even. Clean cars, polite drivers, GPS tracking, digital payments. It felt like the future. And for the drivers, the promise was even more seductive: “Be your own boss! Drive when you want, earn what you need!” Men and women across the country invested their life savings, took out hefty loans, and bought new cars, believing they were buying into a dream of entrepreneurship.

And for a little while, it worked. The incentives were great, the earnings were high. But then, things changed. Slowly at first, then all at once.

The incentives dried up. The commission rates charged by the companies crept higher and higher. The number of cars on the road exploded, leading to more competition for fewer profitable rides. And then came the killer blow: soaring fuel prices. Suddenly, the math just didn’t add up anymore. The dream of being a boss started to look a lot like being a servant to an algorithm, working 14-hour days just to cover the car’s EMI, the fuel cost, and the company’s cut. The “flexibility” they were promised felt like a trap.

I got talking to a driver, a guy named Ramesh, during a ride to the airport a few months ago. He laid it out for me. “Sir,” he said, “for your 500 rupee ride, after company commission, I get maybe 350. Out of that, almost 150 is fuel. Then there’s car maintenance, insurance, my phone bill. At the end of a long day, what’s left? Barely enough.” That conversation has stuck with me. This isn’t about greed. It’s about survival.

So, What’s the ‘Cab Drivers Protest’ Actually About?

When you see headlines about a transport strike today, it’s easy to tune it out as noise. But the demands of the drivers are actually pretty specific and, let’s be honest, pretty reasonable.

I’ve been following the news on this, and it boils down to a few key things. I initially thought it was just about fares, but it’s more nuanced than that. The core issue is the structure of the business itself.

1. Fairer Commission: Drivers are protesting the high commission fees, sometimes as high as 25-30%, that Ola and Uber take from each ride. They want this capped at a more reasonable rate.
2. Regulated Fares: They want a government-mandated fare structure, similar to traditional taxis and auto-rickshaws. This would protect them from the companies arbitrarily lowering per-kilometer rates to attract customers, which directly eats into their earnings.
3. The End of Unfair Practices: This includes things like penalizing drivers for cancelling rides (when they often have legitimate reasons to do so) and ensuring transparency in how ride allocations and payments are calculated.
4. Social Security: This is the big one. Drivers are classified as “partners” or “independent contractors,” not employees. This is a clever bit of corporate jargon that means the companies have no responsibility for their health insurance, pension, or any form of social safety net. The drivers are pushing for basic gig worker rights in India, a conversation that is happening globally.

When you lay it all out, it doesn’t sound so radical, does it? It sounds like people wanting a fair day’s pay for a fair day’s work. The latest news cycle might move on, but these issues aren’t going away.

The Great Disconnect | Why My Convenience Can’t Be the Only Thing That Matters

The frustrating thing about this whole situation is the disconnect. For us, the riders, the app is a utility. A tool. We press a button, a car appears. It’s impersonal. But on the other side of that screen is a person. A person with bills to pay, a family to feed, and a car loan hanging over their head like a storm cloud.

Think about it this way: Ola and Uber are essentially the world’s biggest landlords. The drivers are their tenants. They provide the “property” (the app platform), and the drivers pay a hefty rent (commission) to operate on it. But this landlord can change the rent whenever they want, bring in thousands of new tenants to compete with you, and change the rules of the building without notice. Would you be happy in that arrangement?

Of course not. You’d protest. You’d form a union. You’d demand better terms. And that’s exactly what the ola uber strike is. It’s a massive, coordinated shout of desperation from people who feel they’ve been pushed too far. While we’re thinking about the future of transport with things like Tesla in India, we have to solve the problems of the present first.

So yes, it’s a massive inconvenience. It disrupts our lives and our city. But maybe, just maybe, that’s the point. It’s the only leverage they have. By taking away our convenience, they force us to finally pay attention to their struggle. For a moment, we are forced to see the human cost of that cheap ride we took last week, a cost well-documented in reports by major outlets like NDTV Business and others who cover the gig economy.

This isn’t an attack on technology or progress. It’s a fight to make that progress more humane. It’s a demand that the people who power our convenience are treated with dignity and fairness. And as I finally give up on the app and walk out into the rain, I can’t help but think they deserve to win.

A Few Questions You’re Probably Asking During a Strike

Why do Ola and Uber drivers seem to go on strike so often?

It feels frequent because the core issues are rarely resolved. Strikes are usually a last resort when talks between driver unions and the companies break down. The main grievances—low earnings, high commissions, rising fuel costs, and a lack of social security—are persistent problems. Until there’s a systemic change or government regulation, these protests are likely to continue.

What are the drivers’ biggest demands in these strikes?

Their demands usually center on financial stability and better working conditions. This includes a cap on company commissions (they want it lowered from 25-30% to something more manageable), a government-regulated fare system to ensure a minimum earning per kilometer, and an end to arbitrary penalties. A bigger, long-term goal is being recognized as employees rather than “partners” to get benefits like health insurance.

Is it true that drivers are earning less now than they did a few years ago?

Yes, for the most part. This is a common point of frustration. When the services first launched, there were huge financial incentives to attract drivers. As the market got saturated with cars and those incentives were withdrawn, the average take-home earning per driver has dropped significantly, especially when you factor in the rising cost of fuel and vehicle maintenance.

What are my options for getting around during an Ola Uber strike?

It can be tough, but you have options. Check out other local ride-hailing apps that may not be part of the strike. Public transport like the metro or city buses is your most reliable bet. Traditional black-and-yellow taxis and local auto-rickshaws also continue to operate, though demand for them will be very high.

Will this transport strike actually change anything?

That’s the million-dollar question. In the short term, strikes can sometimes lead to temporary concessions from the companies or get the government’s attention. However, long-lasting, fundamental changes to the gig economy model have been slow to materialize. But each strike adds to the pressure and public awareness, which is a crucial step toward potential policy changes in the future.