India’s aviation sector is no stranger to drama, but the recent operational crisis at IndiGo has revealed a deeper rot that extends far beyond this single airline’s missteps. While 200-300 flights were canceled in a day due to poor planning and pilot unrest, the root cause lies in systemic policy failures such as inadequate pilot staffing regulations, lax oversight of crew rostering, and the prioritization of growth over safety, which set Indian carriers on an inevitable path to failure. This is a story not just about an airline’s crisis, but about how India writes airline obituaries, not airlines.
The IndiGo Meltdown: Crisis Unveiled
Over several days, IndiGo grounded a staggering number of flights across major cities—Delhi, Mumbai, Bengaluru, and Hyderabad—leaving hundreds of thousands stranded. Delays exceeding 10 hours became routine, while ticket counters transformed into scenes of desperation and chaos. The Directorate General of Civil Aviation (DGCA) launched investigations into the disruption of over 1,200 flights, signalling the gravity of the debacle.
While the airline cited weather conditions, technical glitches, winter scheduling, and new Flight Duty Time Limitations (FDTL) regulations as causes, insiders and experts suggest a management failure characterized by chronic understaffing, poor crew rostering, and low pilot morale driven by cost-cutting strategies. This should encourage the audience to feel responsible for understanding how governance failures threaten industry sustainability.
Silent pilot rebellion, long hours of fatigue, and declining leave benefits have pushed safety and operations to the brink. The Federation of Indian Pilots (FIP) has raised concerns about IndiGo’s attempts to cut annual leave and buy back leave days, which increase fatigue-related risks rather than reduce them. This ongoing unrest, without formal strikes, has weakened operational capacity and eroded public confidence.
What Exactly Happened? The Facts on the Ground
Eighteen months ago, new DGCA pilot rest norms were announced, including the strict requirement of 48 hours of rest after 168 hours of duty and other fatigue mitigation measures. All airlines were given a lengthy transition period to adapt: hire more pilots, rework rosters, and realign networks before these rules became mandatory.
While carriers such as Air India, Vistara, and Akasa utilized this period effectively by recruiting and training about 400 pilots collectively and maintaining normal operations, IndiGo, despite commanding around 60% of India’s domestic market, failed to build a sufficient pilot buffer and continued to add routes and aircraft without proportionate crew induction or realistic rostering.
When the new rest rules finally took effect, IndiGo’s operations faltered: over a thousand flights were cancelled or delayed within hours, domestic services collapsed while international code-share flights ran smoothly. During the 18-month transition, IndiGo continued selling tickets and add-on services without warning passengers of the imminent disruptions. Passengers faced delayed refunds, soaring fares on limited flights, and long hours stranded at airports, often without clear information or assistance.
The government’s response was unusual: the rest policy was partially rolled back to prevent a complete meltdown of air travel, a move rarely taken and indicative of the perilous situation.
Notably, the crisis peaked during a high-profile visit by Russia’s president, adding pressure on government machinery already stretched thin by security and diplomatic demands. Was this deliberate? This needs to be investigated, and the airlines held accountable.
The Flight Duty Time Limitations: Safety or Scapegoat?
The updated FDTL parameters, introduced in phases starting July 2025, tightened rest requirements around night flights, consecutive duty limits, and weekly rest periods. Recognised globally as necessary to reduce pilot fatigue, a significant cause of accidents, these rules have been implemented unevenly. IndiGo alone faced severe operational setbacks after enforcing these norms.
But the problem is not the rules themselves; it is how IndiGo managed them. Instead of proactively hiring and rostering, the airline cut pilot leave, leaving crews exhausted and schedules unstable. DGCA audits confirmed errors in calculations and warned against granting exemptions that compromise safety. Pressure to sustain aggressive growth without sufficient investment in human resources triggered the crisis.
When Cost-Cutting Becomes Criminal
IndiGo’s low-cost carrier model, once celebrated as a success story, exposes a darker side. The company’s focus on cutting costs leads to pilot turnover, overworked crews, and a minimal safety buffer that disappears at the first sign of trouble. As a result, IndiGo has become what many insiders call a “bus service in the skies,” equating highly skilled pilots with replaceable commodities.
This financial frugality leads to crises. Instead of covering the costs of safety and staff welfare, IndiGo bets on regulatory loopholes—such as exemptions from mandatory rest norms—and temporary relaxations of FDTL regulations until disaster becomes inevitable. These policy gaps, exploited by management, reveal systemic governance failures that value short-term profits over long-term safety and stability.
The Larger Canvas: India’s Aviation Obituary Culture
To fully understand IndiGo’s predicament, one must see it as part of a broader systemic malaise that has caused Indian airlines to fail as a norm rather than an exception. The sharp, insightful observations of Mr. Mohan Murti, widely circulated on social media, clearly encapsulate this truth in his essay, “India Doesn’t Build Airlines.” It Builds Their Obituaries—The Savage Truth: Why Our Skies Are a Graveyard. Credit must go to Mr. Murti for some excellent insights that go to the heart of the issue: it is not lack of talent or demand, but policy and governance failures that have consistently brought down Indian carriers.
There is no rocket science behind why airlines fail in India. You don’t need McKinsey. You don’t need economists. You don’t even need a “high-level committee.” You need basic common sense—the rarest commodity in Delhi.
The World Builds Airlines. India Builds Taxes
Some countries build Emirates. Some countries built Singapore Airlines. India builds taxes, paperwork, and bankruptcy tribunals. We should erect a memorial at every airport entrance: “In honour of all Indian airlines that died fighting the Ministry of Finance.”
The Countries That Get It Right—And Why We Don’t
Look at the Gulf carriers. They don’t run airlines; they operate strategic state instruments with wings. They aren’t “subsidised”—they’re structurally privileged. Their fuel isn’t taxed into oblivion like here; in fact, jet fuel in Dubai is almost cheaper than mineral water. Their airports aren’t overcrowded shopping malls with runways attached; Dubai, Doha, and Abu Dhabi built aviation hubs as engines of national economic growth, not real estate jackpots.
Try firing a crew member in India—you’ll need a year, a lawyer, and a prayer. Try doing it in Dubai—it’s finished before the coffee cools. They sit at the world’s geographic sweet spot, perfectly positioned between Europe, Asia, and Africa. Their governments aren’t afraid to order 100 new widebody aircraft because they understand that aviation is a strategic asset, not a gamble. Emirates isn’t just an airline—it’s Dubai’s foreign policy, a tool of soft power on autopilot.
Then there is Singapore Airlines—the gold standard, the airline equivalent of a Swiss watch. Singapore Airlines is owned by Temasek but run by professionals, not relatives, cronies, retired bureaucrats, or the occasional political nephew. They don’t chase ₹999 flash sales—they focus on long-haul profitability and business travellers with real purchasing power. They operate out of Changi, which is not just an airport but a masterclass in efficiency, calm, and sanity.
Most importantly, Singapore treats aviation as a nation-building tool, not a cow to be milked dry with ATF taxes. Singapore Airlines exemplifies strategic capitalism. India’s aviation policy is political tokenism with a boarding pass to a suicide mission.
Back Home: The Republic of Fair-Price Flight Shop
India insists it is a “deregulated market” where airlines are “free to set fares.” This is adorable—like a toddler declaring itself the ringmaster in a circus! India does not officially dictate ticket prices. It unofficially dictates what airlines can get away with. DGCA “advises.” Ministers “summon.” Media “outrages.” And airfare “caps” appear magically out of thin bureaucratic air.
Then comes UDAN—Ude Desh ka Aam Naagrik—a scheme that caps fares on routes that no sane airline can serve profitably, turning noble intentions into financial landmines. UDAN looks beautiful on a PowerPoint slide, but on a balance sheet, it burns through cash faster than an ATF leak. Airlines cannot raise fares without being accused of daylight robbery. But ATF taxes? Those can rise at any time, without warning or apology.
India pretends to be a free market but behaves like a controlled ration shop with runway access.
The Governance Deficit: More Than Just Aviation Policy
IndiGo’s crisis and the broader airline obituary culture reveal a profound failure of governance and regulatory imagination. The DGCA, whose mandate includes passenger safety and industry oversight, has morphed into a reactive institution clouded by bureaucratic inertia. Instead of functioning as a proactive watchdog, it becomes active only amid a crisis, and then only to probe—not prevent.
Moreover, the Civil Aviation Ministry’s politicisation and tolerance of oligopolistic airline dominance have rendered enforcement toothless. While IndiGo commands 60% of the market share, it is neither regulated like a public utility nor held accountable like a monopoly—political patronage shields private interests, allowing airlines to flout duty-of-care obligations without penalty.
The resulting “Trader’s Republic” governance model prioritises business facilitation over citizen protection—a system where passengers get the short end of the stick in cancellations and price gouging, where hotel profiteering hikes rates tenfold during crises, and where regulatory price caps emerge arbitrarily, often as political theatre rather than consistent policy.
The Final Truth
Airlines don’t crash because of pilots. They crash because policymakers tax jet fuel like champagne and operate aviation like ration distribution in the sky. Airlines don’t fall. They are pushed to the brink, miserably fail, & fall dead!
Putting Passengers Last: The Human Cost
Every failure in the system manifests as a human tragedy. Families miss funerals; professionals lose critical meetings; elderly travellers endure indignities in airports turned into battlegrounds. In this landscape, the traveller is reduced to a helpless commodity—priced out, stranded, and neglected.
IndiGo blames pilots and external factors; shareholders report profits. Meanwhile, passengers pay the price through inflated emergency fares, chaos, and loss of trust.
Reforming Indian Aviation: A Roadmap
India must turn away from its destructive cycle of tax-driven failure and regulatory paralysis. Reform must be multidimensional.
Abolish punitive ATF taxes. Jet fuel costs must be rationalised to global standards to reduce operational burdens.
Regulate airports as economic engines, not cash cows: Fees should be transparent and competitive.
Establish a Passenger Bill of Rights. Enforce guaranteed re-accommodation, support cancellations, and cap opportunistic fare hikes.
Rebalance fare controls. UDAN schemes should be economically viable, with subsidies transparent and limited.
Overhaul DGCA. Proactive, autonomous, and professionally staffed; equipped with digital real-time monitoring.
Address pilot welfare. Airlines must invest in recruitment, rest, and morale—no shortcuts on safety.
Break market dominance: Foster competition, encourage regional players, and enhance consumer choice.
The Final Truth: The Sky’s Cry for Governance
Airlines don’t fail because of pilots or new rules—they fail because the policies governing them are self-defeating. The state taxes aviation into fragility, enforces suffocating red tape, and then abdicates responsibility when the inevitable breakdown occurs. IndiGo and others are simply the living symptoms of this fatal policy disease.
India’s aviation sector is not a failure of enterprise but of governance. Until this paradox is confronted—where policymakers stop pushing airlines to the brink and start building a sustainable ecosystem—the skies will remain littered not just with grounded planes but with shattered hopes.
Only when India builds airlines rather than their obituaries will its aviation sector soar on the promise it holds.