In the first episode of the TV series Sherlock, a taxi driver says, “You see, no one ever thinks about the cabbie. It’s like we’re invisible. Just the back of a head. Proper advantage for a serial killer.” The dialogue writer’s observation is spot on. Cab drivers are invisible, for most people. They live their hopes, dreams as well as sufferings in silence. The city is too busy to care. The passenger is always late (and always right).
Going round and round in the debt trap
I use Uber cabs for my daily commute and have lost count of the number of times an Uber driver (“driver-partner” as the company likes to call them, which is a complete euphemism) has launched himself into a long monologue that would make even Kartik Aryan insecure.
It’s always the same story: “They promised us Rs. 80,000 per month; they promised us benefits; they promised us dreams… but we are stuck with loans and cars now.”
I do care, but there is nothing I can do. It’s true though; Uber drivers were indeed shown a worker’s wet dream years ago, when the company was new and wanted to capture market share by on-boarding more drivers on the platform. A lot has changed since then.
Remember those stories and news articles doing the rounds that spoke of drivers making a lakh a month, more money than engineers (side note: I still don’t know why an engineer is the benchmark and barometer for such things)? What happened to that? How come you don’t hear of such ‘success stories’, ‘entrepreneurship tales’, or ‘empowered professional stories’ anymore? Because it’s over. The benefits, incentives, and fair pay have disappeared, long before you could finish giving your ‘five-star rating’.
The rich got richer, the poor poorer
Deep-pocketed investors, who pumped in money by the millions, now want to see the colour of their money. Maybe, they too were shown a wet dream, where they lose money today but make a lot more tomorrow (always two sides to a story, remember?). The casualty? Rides became more expensive, and drivers started making less money, all so that Uber could improve its margins.
I remember a time not too long ago when a Rs. 69 ride pass got me around the city. That 69 became 99, then 129, and now 149. One more price correction, and I’m out. I owe no loyalty or allegiance to a ride-hailing app.
But it’s not so simple for Uber drivers, many of whom have taken loans from banks and NBFCs (non-banking financial companies, in the news these days for all the wrong reasons) to purchase the car they drive. Banks and NBFCs don’t ‘write-off’ the loans of small men; that’s a privilege reserved for the mega-rich.
United in distress
Put it all together, and you have grumpy, debt-ridden drivers who simply don’t make enough profit at the end of the day to pay their EMI at the end of the month. And yet, quitting is not an option. I have had drivers tell me that they are going to ‘burn their vehicle’ before returning to their native place, to their old life.
How often do you hear Uber drivers’ plights being written about or debated? Not often. Because, in India, the perceived depth of your problem and the speediness of its resolution hinges on the amount of noise you can make, nuisance you can create, and politics you can stir. Uber drivers don’t wield that kind of influence.
Given the situation they are in, I believe that Uber drivers in cities are becoming the new farmers—fed up, frustrated, and penniless; burdened under a loan, upset with the middleman’s cut. And when I say Uber driver, remember that each comes with a family, united in distress.
It feels weird to speak of Uber drivers as victims. Not too long ago, they were seen as ‘perpetrators’ who robbed licensed cab drivers of their business. As I keep saying, there are always two sides to a story.
A lot can be said about the situation with the benefit of hindsight wisdom. Can I, instead, use foresight and make a prediction? I would like to caution the food app delivery boys (the current ‘engineer-killers’), making more than Rs. 30,000 a month, against believing that this wet dream will last forever. It never does.
Kapil Talwar is a chartered accountant who hopes to run for public office one day and give India the parliamentarian it deserves.
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