Riding on empty

Express Tribune

5 days ago

The summer sun in Karachi was at its peak when Asad Iqbal pulled his car over near a narrow street in Gulistan-e-Johar. He had accepted a ride on a ride-hailing app, waited ten minutes at the pickup point, and then watched the notification quietly fade: 'Passenger cancelled.' There was no fare, no compensation, and no one to explain why his time and fuel went unpaid. He complained about the app, just like he had done before. And just like every other time, there was no response.
A few miles away, Sara*, a regular ride-hailing user, scrolled through a ride-hailing app on her phone trying to report an uncomfortable ride experience from the day before; a driver had made her feel uneasy during the trip and also dropped her halfway. When she reached out to support, she received the standard automated message: Thank you for reaching out. Please allow 24 hours for us to get back to you. That was five days ago. No one followed up.
These are not isolated stories. In cities where public transport remains unreliable and overcrowded, ride-hailing apps once seemed like a solution built for the future. One that could navigate the chaos and connect people with dignity. From Careem's enthusiastic early days to Uber's brief run, and now others filling the vacuum, Pakistan's urban mobility landscape has shifted fast, but not always forward.
The early promise of tech-powered transport, convenience, safety, and freedom, is beginning to show its cracks. Riders are left without recourse. Drivers are pushed to the edge. And with Careem announcing the end of its ride-hailing operations in Pakistan as of July 18, 2025, the industry stands at a turning point. What began as disruption now feels like a system that's starting to break down.
From disruption to dependency
When ride-hailing platforms first arrived in Pakistan, they didn't just offer convenience. In cities like Karachi, the promise of tapping a screen and summoning a car, more than innovation, was relief.
In the early years, there was energy in the air. Drivers began to see ride-hailing as a dependable source of income. Riders learned to navigate unfamiliar neighborhoods using the app's GPS. Women, often forced to rely on male relatives for travel, began booking rides independently.
Then came the new wave: inDrive entered the Pakistani market in 2021 with a model that looked and felt different. It didn't set fares through algorithms. Instead, passengers would propose a price, and nearby drivers could choose to accept it, counter with their own rate, or decline. According to inDrive's Pakistan team, this model wasn't just about pricing. It was about fairness.
'Our platform is founded on the principles of people, purpose and performance,' said Awais Saeed, Country Head at inDrive Pakistan. 'We empower users by giving them freedom of choice and more control over how their ride is arranged.' That empowerment, they explained, stems from creating transparency between drivers and passengers. Each ride begins with an agreement. No surge pricing, no surprises. Just negotiation.
This flexibility, in theory, gives both sides more agency. A driver who doesn't think a fare is worth the effort can reject the request without penalty. A rider can choose the offer that best suits their route and budget. 'Fairness is built into the process because both sides agree on the fare before the ride begins,' Saeed said.
On the other hand, Careem operated under a more structured model, where fares were determined by the platform and drivers followed a more defined pricing system. While this reduced flexibility, it offered predictability. Many drivers saw it as more stable: they knew what to expect from each ride, they got paid if the ride was cancelled after a specific time by the rider, they were paid for traffic jams, their time, and they had access to a dedicated support team that could be contacted in Urdu or English.
Saeed believes Pakistan's ride-hailing industry has the potential to become a pillar of economic resilience and a driver of digital transformation, provided it receives the right support. 'Ride-hailing services are crucial for Pakistan,' he explained, pointing to a public transport system that leaves many behind, particularly women. He also noted the lack of flexible, part-time job opportunities in the country. 'Ride-hailing has bridged this gap,' he said. 'It allows driver-partners to work on their terms, with passengers of their choice, and by negotiating fares as they see fit.'
But even with these ambitions, the landscape has shifted.
In July 2025, Careem announced it was ending its ride-hailing operations in Pakistan, citing macroeconomic pressures and unsustainable market conditions. It wasn't the first to step away. Uber had already exited the market after taking over Careem. For many in the industry, the writing had been on the wall for a while. Rising inflation, unpredictable fuel prices, regulatory uncertainty, and shrinking investor interest had made the ground beneath ride-hailing increasingly unstable.
'Macroeconomic factors such as high inflation and fluctuating fuel prices make ride-hailing a challenging industry,' said inDrive's Saeed. 'Internet connectivity in areas where coverage is patchy makes it difficult for both passengers and drivers to access and deliver our services reliably. A lack of robust road infrastructure also poses difficulties for our drivers,' he added.
Driver on the edge
For many drivers, ride-hailing began as a promise, a way to earn on their own schedule, to leave behind daily wage jobs and unreliable employers, and to work with a sense of autonomy. But over time, that promise has begun to wear thin.
Asad, who has driven for multiple ride-hailing apps remembers a time when each ride felt like it was worth the effort. 'In the early days I used to know what I'd earn,' he said. 'Even if fuel prices went up, the company adjusted fares eventually. There was a system, there was support.' Today, he says, the situation is different. 'Now when petrol prices go up, we're still negotiating the same old fares. We lose money, not the platform.'
Drivers like Asad often work twelve to fourteen hours a day just to break even. The peer-to-peer pricing model in apps gives them flexibility, but also leaves them exposed. While they can reject offers that seem too low, the pressure to accept rides still lingers, especially when the app activity slows down. "You wait an hour for a ride, it finally comes, and it's Rs300 across town. You say no, and there's nothing again for the next 45 minutes,' he said. 'So you take it, and by the end, your fuel costs more than the fare.'
Beyond pricing, drivers are also frustrated by the lack of accessible and responsive support systems. Asad recalled a time when a customer refused to pay after reaching their destination. 'I reported it. No one got back to me. Not that day, not the next. The new apps just ask you to send screenshots and wait.'
In response to these concerns, inDrive maintains that their support systems are evolving. 'We maintain direct lines of communication with our drivers through our support team and driver facilitation centres,' explained Saeed. 'We continue to invest in training these teams to handle issues quickly and fairly, so drivers feel heard and supported at every step. Our drivers are at the heart of what we do, and we remain fully committed to providing them with the reliable support they need.'
But many drivers still feel that the connection is thin. The unpredictability of the job has changed how drivers view the industry. 'It's become risky,' Asad said. 'We're driving people, but no one's really driving the system.'
When the app stops answering
After a tense ride with a driver who made her feel uncomfortable, Sana* opened the app she had used and went to the support section. She submitted a complaint, explaining the interaction in detail, and waited for a response. The app acknowledged her concern and told her someone would get back within 24 hours. That was over a week ago.
Experiences like Sana's are common. Several riders, particularly women, have expressed frustration with certain apps' support systems. Unlike earlier platforms, which had local helplines and agents who called back in Urdu or English, newer players often rely on automated messages, delayed replies and unresolved tickets. 'It's not even about the issue anymore,' one user shared. 'It's about knowing there's someone on the other side who will listen.'
For its part, inDrive maintains that it takes these concerns seriously. 'We have clear processes in place to address and resolve all reported issues as quickly as possible,' said Saeed. 'If a problem does arise, we make it a priority to close it out with a timely solution.'
For serious safety-related incidents, the platform says it freezes the involved accounts immediately and initiates a structured investigation. The process includes gathering statements, reviewing ride data, and, in cases that require it, working with law enforcement while respecting data privacy laws. 'Generally speaking, individuals who are accused of committing these types of incidents will be permanently removed from the app's community,' added Saeed.
In terms of proactive safety, Saeed highlights features like live location sharing, emergency contact options, an in-app panic button, and 24/7 access to its support team. All new drivers are required to submit official documents, go through a face-matching process, and complete identity verification. The company also says it uses AI tools to flag suspicious profiles and photos.
Yet for riders like Sana, safety isn't just about features, it's about follow-up. For many female riders, the biggest concern is the absence of response when risk becomes real.
Rethinking the road ahead
There was a time when ride-hailing felt like a breakthrough, something that could quietly fix what the system never could. For a while, it did. It got people to work, brought women a little more freedom to move, and gave thousands of drivers a way to earn on their own terms.
But somewhere along the way, the cracks grew wider. Platforms left. Support got slower. The experience, once built on ease, now feels unpredictable for both riders and drivers.
Still, the need hasn't gone away. In cities where movement is tied to opportunity, mobility isn't just about convenience. It's about showing up, to work, to class, to life. And for that, the road needs to be better than what it's become.