CLICK. PAY. PRAY IT’s SAFE

Auick commerce platforms like Zepto, Blinkit, BigBasket, and Instamart have embedded themselves into our routines. They are no longer just grocery services. Today, they deliver everything from cosmetics and medicines to electronics to festive bundles to groceries. What began as a niche convenience has become a new e-commerce frontier. This sector is expected to reach a market value of $5.5 billion this year, growing at an annual rate of over 25%. These platforms are reshaping how India shops. But behind this glitzy facade of speed and scale lies a darker truth—one that threatens public health and safety. Visuals that emerged from Zepto warehouse in Mumbai were nothing short of disturbing. Let’s also be clear: this is not just about Zepto. All quick commerce companies should be put under scrutiny. We cannot allow convenience to turn into complacency

Quick commerce is the modern urban miracle—instant gratification delivered to your doorstep. What was once unimaginable has now become a daily norm. You forgot your child’s notebooks the night before school? No problem. Need a loaf of bread or a packet of milk early morning? Done. Woke up late and realised your phone charger is dead? It’ll be at your door before your coffee cools.

Whether it’s the homemaker racing against time, the elderly avoiding the chaos of local markets, or techies in need of quick fixes, quick commerce platforms like Zepto, Blinkit, BigBasket, and Instamart have embedded themselves into our routines. They are no longer just grocery services. Today, they deliver everything from cosmetics and medicines to electronics and festive bundles curated for occasions like Diwali, Valentine’s Day, and the Cricket World Cup. What began as a niche convenience has become a new e-commerce frontier.

This sector is booming. It's expected to reach a market value of $5.5 billion this year, growing at an annual rate of over 25%. Inventory sizes have ballooned too. What began with 4,000 to 5,000 items has now expanded to over 25,000 in some urban centres. With aggressive investor backing and deep-pocketed marketing campaigns, these platforms are reshaping how India shops. But behind this glitzy facade of speed and scale lies a darker truth—one that threatens public health and safety.

Take the recent case of Zepto’s warehouse in Mumbai’s Dharavi. The visuals that emerged were nothing short of disturbing: unhygienic conditions, poor storage, possible contamination. Yet, the company claimed to maintain “the highest standards of hygiene and food safety.” A convenient press release. But the Maharashtra Food and Drug Administration (FDA) contradicted that claim, citing “serious non-compliance” with food safety norms. The real question is—where was the FDA all this while?

It’s not as if India lacks food safety laws. In fact, our regulatory rulebooks are often more detailed than those in many Western nations. But implementation? That’s where we fail miserably. We are world champions in drafting laws and world-class failures in enforcing them. Bureaucratic apathy, corruption, and a deeply flawed system of accountability make sure of that.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi recently remarked that “India would change if politicians learned to say ‘No’ and officers learned to say ‘Yes.’” It’s a telling comment on the rot within the administrative machinery. Politicians often act as shields for law-breakers, hiding behind public postures of integrity while privately protecting violators. Bureaucrats, on the other hand, are more interested in passing the buck than cleaning up the mess. Everyone is in the blame game, and nobody is in the accountability game.

The Zepto incident is not an aberration—it’s a symptom of a larger disease. Did the FDA ever inspect this warehouse before? If so, what were their findings? Were compliance certificates issued? If not, why not? Who is responsible? A temporary suspension of the warehouse’s licence is not justice. It’s damage control. Cosmetic, convenient, and cowardly.

What’s worse, we don’t even know if the warehouse has quietly resumed operations. That’s the tragedy of regulatory laxity in India: public memory is short, and media attention even shorter. Once the headlines fade, everything goes back to business as usual.

Let’s also be clear: this is not just about Zepto. All quick commerce companies should be put under scrutiny. The COVID-19 pandemic taught us hard lessons about hygiene, sanitation, and supply chain integrity. But it seems those lessons have already been forgotten. The old dirty tricks are back. And now, they’re operating at lightning speed.

With such rapid expansion, state governments are clearly struggling to keep up. Officials are quick to blame their “limited capacity” to inspect thousands of warehouses and dark stores popping up across cities. But why not use technology to bridge that gap?

If the police can monitor cities using CCTV command centres, why can’t food regulators do the same? Make it mandatory for all warehouses to install surveillance cameras at key points—connected to a central FDA monitoring hub. Random checks can be done remotely. Storage conditions can be visually verified. A single command centre could monitor dozens of warehouses in real time. But such solutions never appeal to those who benefit from opacity.

Why? Because transparency threatens their cut. Oversight threatens their under-the-table deals. Accountability ruins their racket.

Regulators must also close a dangerous loophole: the tendency of e-commerce platforms to blame third-party vendors for violations. “It’s not us, it’s our supplier,” is a common excuse. But that’s not acceptable. If a customer orders from your platform, you are responsible. Every link in the chain must be accountable, from supplier to last-mile delivery. No passing the buck.

In the wake of the Zepto incident, a truly serious inquiry must not stop at the company’s warehouse operations. It must also examine the role of government officials—particularly the FDA. How many inspections were conducted in the last year? What did they find? Who approved the operation of that warehouse? If no inspections happened, who failed to act—and why? Until bureaucrats are made to answer these questions, expect more such incidents.

Let’s not forget the impact this has on consumer trust. People now rely on quick commerce not just for convenience but for necessity. If a diabetic senior citizen orders medicine or a young mother orders baby food through a quick delivery app, they have every right to expect safety and hygiene. They’re not buying black-market goods—they’re trusting a company and a system that is supposed to protect them.

The need of the hour is a coordinated approach: a collaboration between the government, industry leaders, and digital platforms to build a regulatory framework that is as agile as the commerce it seeks to govern. Sustainable and inclusive growth is possible, but only if safety and ethics are not sacrificed at the altar of speed and scale.

It’s time the quick commerce industry matured beyond just buzzwords and billions. It must embrace responsible innovation. Regulators must ditch lazy excuses and embrace smart oversight. And consumers, too, must demand transparency and accountability from the platforms they so eagerly rely on.

We cannot allow convenience to become complacency. And we certainly cannot allow quick commerce to become a breeding ground for slow poison.

(The author is former Chief Editor of Hans India)