Every year, the first day of May reminds us of the constant struggles, triumphs, and rights of workers across the globe. The day is replete with activities focusing on the achievements we have made in shaping modern employment laws, labour codes, and so on. On the government and industry front, several events are organised to celebrate the contribution made by our workers.

But amid this flurry of formal acknowledgements and symbolic celebrations, it is worth asking: how many of us, on a personal level, extend even the most basic recognition to those who keep our daily lives running?

Do we think of giving a paid day off to the domestic worker who cleans our homes daily? Do we even know the name of the man who arrives each morning at 5 or 6 am to wash our cars and vanishes before we have even woken up as if he were invisible? Or the cook who arrives at your home day after day, serving you a hot meal with mechanical speed, often forgetting her own exhaustion?

Then there are the app-based delivery riders who have become synonymous with urban life. Whether groceries, food, medicines, or any other daily essentials, these workers have revolutionised our lives. Their promise of "delivery in 10 minutes" has become a norm in our lives, so much so that we no longer bother to stock up or plan ahead.

Consider the army of skilled gig workers who now offer everything from salon services to appliance repair, furniture assembly, and deep cleaning—delivered to our doorsteps with just a click. We could not even imagine such services in this form a decade ago. Thanks to the efficiency of gig-based platforms, the days of waiting endlessly for a neighbourhood plumber or an electrician to show up are gone.

These workers—be it the delivery agent on a two-wheeler, the beautician with a kit in hand, or the technician fixing your fridge—are all connected to us by one common thread: an app and the Internet. And yet, when it comes to labour law protections, they are conspicuously cut off. They remain outside the warm ambit of labour rights, rules, and regulations we are proud of.

According to NITI Aayog, India has over 7.7 million gig workers, which is projected to exceed 23 million by 2030. Despite their scale and contribution to GDP, gig workers are neither recognised as employees nor protected as entrepreneurs.

Often celebrated for its flexibility, gig work hides a grim reality—the absence of social security and legal protection. Unlike regular employees, gig workers are classified as "independent contractors."

Look at any app; you will find fancy terminology for defining them. Most platforms call them partners. The word certainly is attractive but does not capture the essence of what partnership actually means in letter and spirit. The fact is that they are highly dependent on algorithms and customer ratings.

Unlike other sectors, where tasks are assigned by human beings—or the human resources department, so to say—gig workers get their work based on matches made by complex algorithms and codes. They are incentivised through gamified systems that blur the lines between choice and compulsion.

Flexibility, in theory, sounds appealing, but for most gig workers, it is akin to a world full of uncertainty and mental stress. Payment structures are often opaque, and incentives are changed without notice. The surge pricing that they get today may plummet tomorrow. Not only that, their hourly rate can also swing wildly, creating constant anxiety about making ends meet.

This imbalance of power is deliberate. Platforms cleverly market to workers as "partners" or "micro-entrepreneurs," yet impose control through digital means—ratings, algorithms, and unilateral terminations. If workers are suddenly "deactivated," they often have no recourse. Then, there is a constant struggle to chase customer care to reactivate their account. But do they have any legal recourse? Unfortunately, no.

For the first time, the Code on Social Security 2020 recognised gig and platform workers and proposed a framework for social welfare schemes. It empowers the government to frame schemes like life and disability insurance, health benefits, maternity benefits, and old-age protection.

Yet, nearly five years after its passage, implementation remains distant. The code has not been enforced in several states, contributions from aggregators remain voluntary, and many gig workers are not aware of the provisions. Without concrete timelines, dedicated budgets, and accountability mechanisms, the code has become merely "tokenistic" in nature.

Moreover, the Supreme Court's recent observations on whether gig workers under platforms like Uber and Ola are "workmen" under labour laws reflect the ongoing legal tussle. While some countries like the UK have moved towards recognising gig workers as "dependent contractors" deserving of minimum wage and holiday pay, India is yet to firmly articulate its stance.

It is easy to reduce this discourse to economics and regulation. But behind the statistics are human stories—young men and women working more than 14 hours to send money home, single mothers juggling odd jobs without childcare, and students cycling through polluted streets to earn a supplementary income.

For many gig workers, the promise of "being your own boss" quickly unravels into a mentally and physically exhausting grind. Unlike salaried employees, they bear the cost of fuel, vehicle maintenance, data plans, and safety gear. A day's strike or even a broken phone camera can wipe out a week's earnings.

Their struggle increases manifold when they encounter a stubborn or difficult customer. The kind of abuse these workers have to bear—if they have erroneously picked up the wrong order or arrived a little late—can not be put into words. In many housing societies, they are not allowed to use the lifts.

In addition, there are no water cooler conversations, union halls, or shared spaces for solidarity. The isolation makes collective bargaining difficult. Attempts to organise, as seen in Bengaluru or Hyderabad, faced algorithmic retaliation and social media slander.

And then there is the gendered angle. While the gig economy claims inclusivity, women constitute a mere fraction of gig workers. Safety concerns, a lack of flexible care infrastructure, and algorithmic biases (like lower ratings for rejecting late-night jobs) disproportionately impact women's participation. There is no doubt that the gig economy is certainly a huge source of employment, but it comes with many risks, mental health issues, and no assurance of a consistent income.

India is not alone in grappling with the challenges of regulating gig work. Many countries have attempted to address these issues through progressive policies. Some of them have actually shown a way. For instance, Spain passed a "Riders Law" in 2021, classifying food delivery workers as employees entitled to full benefits. Even the UK Supreme Court ruled in 2021 that Uber drivers must be treated as "workers" with minimum wage and paid leave benefits. Similarly, California's Proposition 22 (USA) created a hybrid category, offering gig workers some benefits while maintaining their independence.

Not only that, the Rajasthan Platform-Based Gig Workers Act, 2023 also lists various provisions to regulate platforms, obligating them to share data pertaining to gig workers and their rights. However, what we need is a national-level legislation.

It is high time that we carve our own path, balancing innovation with worker protection while taking cues from other countries. After all, gig work is not a stopgap job. It is a primary source of livelihood for millions and an important engine for our digital economy. Should it remain unsupported and invisible? Certainly not. A just economy values everyone who contributes to the economy, not just the ones on the payroll.