Inside lives of women cab drivers in Delhi NCR
Samira Vishwas April 04, 2026 09:25 PM

New Delhi: For years, spotting a woman behind the wheel of a cab in Delhi-NCR has been rare. But that reality is slowly changing, as more women step into the driver’s seat in the gig economy. Among them are Pinki and Saroj—two drivers navigating the city’s chaotic roads, social perceptions, and personal responsibilities every single day.

Their journeys reflect not just individual determination, but also a gradual shift in India’s urban workforce.

Long days, uncertain routes

Pinki, who drives with Uber, begins her day at around 8 am. Her schedule is anything but fixed. Each ride brings a new route, a new passenger, and often, a new challenge.

From navigating unfamiliar areas to making quick safety decisions, her job demands constant alertness. She sometimes refuses rides to locations she feels are unsafe or unsuitable, especially areas with narrow roads or poor accessibility.

Saroj, on the other hand, works with Rapido and starts even earlier—around 6 am. Her workday can stretch till 10 or 11 at night, with only short breaks in between.

“There is no fixed shift,” she says, reflecting the unpredictable nature of gig work. For women, this unpredictability often comes with added layers of caution and responsibility.

Safety is situational, not absolute

Delhi’s safety for women has long been debated, with multiple surveys by organisations like UN Women and ActionAid highlighting concerns around harassment in public spaces.

Yet, Pinki and Saroj approach the issue with nuance rather than fear.

Pinki says there is no single place she labels unsafe, but she avoids certain areas based on experience. Saroj is more specific, pointing to locations like Faridabad’s Gwal Pahari as areas she prefers to avoid.

Both rely on informal networks—often consulting fellow drivers—to assess which areas are safer at different times of the day.

Earning respect on the road

Beyond safety, earning respect remains an everyday challenge.

Interestingly, Pinki notes that most of her difficult interactions have been with female passengers, particularly those who insist on being dropped inside narrow lanes despite her concerns.

At the same time, she says many male passengers are supportive and often curious. “They say it’s the first time they’re seeing a female driver,” she shares.

Saroj has witnessed a shift in attitudes over time. While earlier comments questioned women’s driving abilities, she now hears passengers say they feel safer with a woman driver.

Still, stereotypes persist. She recalls an elderly passenger criticising her driving decisions—an experience that reflects how deeply ingrained such biases remain.

Balancing work and home

For both women, driving is only part of their daily workload.

Pinki manages 8–10 hour shifts largely because of strong family support in a joint household. “Without family support, it’s not possible,” she says.

Saroj’s situation is more restrictive. With limited support at home, her work hours are shaped by childcare responsibilities. Night shifts are not avoided due to fear, but due to the lack of someone to look after her children.

This reflects a broader reality in India, where women’s participation in the workforce is often limited by unpaid care work and domestic duties.

Learning to drive, choosing to stay

Neither Pinki nor Saroj began as professional drivers.

Pinki underwent training for about 15 days before obtaining her licence and starting work. Saroj was part of a training group of 15–20 women in Gurugram—but she is the only one who continued.

“Others left because they were scared,” she says.

Their stories highlight a key challenge: entering the profession is one hurdle, but staying in it requires resilience against fear, uncertainty, and social pressure.

A gradual shift in the workforce

Though still rare, women drivers are slowly becoming more visible on Delhi’s roads.

Ride-hailing platforms estimate a steady rise in women drivers in India’s major cities in the coming years. This shift could bring lakhs of women into the workforce, contributing not just to household incomes but also to the broader economy.

For a profession long dominated by men, this change signals progress—though much remains to be done.

Conclusion

Pinki and Saroj’s journeys are not just about driving through Delhi’s streets—they are about navigating a system that is still adapting to women in non-traditional roles. Their stories reflect both the challenges and possibilities of change.

As more women take the wheel, the roads of Delhi-NCR may not just become more diverse, but also more inclusive.

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