Joy and nightmare on the highway

CabBazar’s revenue model is skipping quality control to keep costs low

The first time I encountered CabBazar online, I was thrilled. There's always a certain juicy pleasure in finding local lads who are giving multinationals a run for their money. I had to travel to a small town called Kashele, a little beyond Karjat, and neither Uber nor Ola even had it on their dropdown menus.

CabBazar offered me a journey a good bit cheaper than its competitors and didn't count the hours. I had use of the vehicle till 11.59 pm, though I would have to pay for extra kilometres used beyond a limit. All good and fair.

The driver was personable and informed, the car was clean, and the journey was relaxed, safe and delightful. I began recommending CabBazar strongly to my friends.

It took me two more journeys to realise that CabBazar had nothing to do with the pleasant quality of my trip. I'd just been lucky to get a good ride the first time.

Yesterday's CabBazar journey from Pune to Mumbai was a non-stop nightmare of five hours. The exact reason was that CabBazar had nothing to do with it. They just connect you with random drivers and collect their percentage.

I planned to hop into a CabBazar taxi at 3 pm and reach Mumbai at around 6.30 pm. I booked a vehicle the previous night and was given the booking ID of 652445. A Rohit Jadhav would pick me up; his number was provided. So far, so good.

A little later, that changed, and I received a new driver's name, Arun Pol. When no car showed up at 3 pm, I tried calling Mr Pol but got no response. After 20 minutes, I called CabBazar in Gurugram and was told that the driver had arrived 15 minutes ahead of time, tried calling me and, receiving no response, had gone home. I'd been in a signal-free zone, attending a meeting. CabBazar started discussing whether I wanted screenshots.

The actual driver showed up 45 minutes late. Arun Pol, the owner of the vehicle, generally slept all afternoon, I was told. My driver, Shivaji, was an unkempt ruffian with a shock of hair. He was rude, chatty and irreverent but mainly a seasoned hustler whose main concern was about who would pay the toll charges.

All tolls were covered in my fare, I told him. CabBazar confirmed.

This agitated Shivaji greatly; paying tolls, he claimed, would leave him with no income. He called his boss, who ordered him to cancel my ride and let me off in the middle of the highway if I refused to pay the toll. Gun to my head, I agreed.

But by now, Shivaji was on to a new scheme. By taking on an additional passenger - perhaps a pretty young lady, he suggested slyly - he could spare me the toll charges and incidentally supplement his income.

Ignoring my protests, he canvassed passengers at a bus stop for half an hour until he found a gentle, civil, Dadar-bound Maharashtrian who (unlike me) seemed unflappable.

Next, the car needed to top up on CNG. Another 20 minutes passed.

Not long afterwards, Shivaji stopped at the roadside sign of a freelance huckster who stood in the rain recharging FastTags for a price. For 45 minutes, we watched impotently as Shivaji gesticulated and bargained with the FastTag shyster, making numerous calls, receiving OTPs, making us scan QR codes and shuck out more money. We reached the outskirts of Pune 1.5 hours after boarding.

The nightmare began now. Shivaji drove like a madman, swerving between speeding cars in blinding rain while loudly discussing politics with his hapless Maharashtrian extra passenger. Since he liked to look at the person he spoke with, his eyes were off the road for long spells. Since he was expressive, he frequently gesticulated using both hands, taking them off the steering wheel. However, he honked more or less continuously. When I implored him to slow down and focus on driving, he laughed gaily and told me in battered English to "think the positive thoughts".

Amit Dhall, who founded CabBazar in 2017 with two partners and $150,000 seed funding from India Accelerator, unwittingly nails why a CabBazar ride can be so terrifying: their approach is based on minimal interference. Unlike Uber and Ola, they are "aggregators" rather than service providers - a complicated way of saying that they put customers and taxis in touch with each other and then leave the rest to providence.
Their revenue model is skipping quality control to keep costs low.

"Our technical platform takes care that human intervention is only required for support in some special cases," says Dhall in a published interview. "The system works on its own."

Well, that happened. CabBazar's few humans refused to intervene, and their insane technology assigned driver after driver to me, ending my trip at will after saddling me with a maniacal buffoon for five hours. When I described my experience to a CabBazar rep, his best reply was that I should include my thoughts in my feedback.

I used to strongly recommend this company. I now advise you to walk to your destination rather than take a CabBazar taxi.

You can reach C Y Gopinath at cygopi@gmail.com
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The views expressed in this column are the individual's and don't represent those of the paper.