Flying too fast and too thin

IndiGo’s meteoric rise is often hailed as a case study in sharp strategy, relentless efficiency, and unchallenged market dominance. From its modest debut in 2006 as a no-frills, low-cost carrier, the airline has expanded into India’s largest aviation player, commanding more than 64% of the domestic market by FY23. Its ascent has been powered by strict cost discipline, aggressive fleet expansion, punctuality as a brand promise, and competitive tactics that enabled it to outpace- and often overpower- its rivals. Yet beneath this celebrated success story lies a deeper, more troubling narrative now coming into sharper focus. IndiGo began with a single Airbus A320 and a clear positioning strategy: keep costs low, keep operations simple, and grow fast. Early in its journey, it placed one of the largest aircraft orders in global aviation history, securing not only long-term scale but also substantial bargaining power with Airbus. This move effectively locked in IndiGo’s expansion runway while ensuring that competitors would wait longer for aircraft deliveries. It was a bold gambit that paid off handsomely. However, cost-cutting, the backbone of IndiGo’s meteoric rise, has come at a price- paid not only by passengers, but increasingly by the airline’s own workforce. Flyers long complained of hidden charges that accompanied the airline’s low headline fares-such as ignorant passengers having to pay for a complimentary drinking water, while insiders pointed to an overworked and underpaid cabin crew pushed to sustain the carrier’s operational efficiency. What had once looked like a disciplined workforce gradually became a strained and dissatisfied one, as the bubble of long hours burst and failed to translate into commensurate income. The perception that IndiGo “squeezed the juice” out of its crew became difficult to ignore. Industry murmurs also suggested that IndiGo benefited from a certain friendliness within government hierarchies, allegedly allowing it to scale operations without the transparency expected of other carriers – particularly with respect to crew rosters. Whether or not these claims hold water, IndiGo’s tightly wound scheduling system left little room for error, making any operational disruption disproportionately damaging. That vulnerability was laid bare when recent crew rostering rules triggered a full-blown crisis. The result was unprecedented: mass cancellations across the country, with IndiGo grounding nearly 2,500 flights. Reports indicate that the airline continued to sell tickets even after it knew it would be unable to operate flights on December 6, urging passengers via SMS to report to airports as scheduled. That more than ₹600 crore in ticket revenue is now expected to be refunded underscores the scale of the chaos – and raises serious questions about accountability. For a carrier long accustomed to operating with minimal challenge, the balloon has finally burst. The Ministry of Civil Aviation now owes passengers more than a statement; it owes a concrete plan of action. Failure to act decisively risks reinforcing the belief that IndiGo, like the ill-fated Jet Airways once was, has been allowed to soar unchecked through the goodwill of those in high places. Regular flyers across India deserve answers – and assurance that the nation’s skies are governed not by favour, but by fairness.