Few would shed tears for IndiGo over the Rs 22.20 crore penalty imposed by the Directorate General of Civil Aviation. If anything, the tens of thousands of passengers—and the anxious relatives who waited
endlessly outside terminals—might even consider the fine modest, given the scale of suffering inflicted during the three days of near-total aviation chaos in early December. IndiGo is not a fledgling carrier struggling to find its feet; it is India’s largest airline, with a pan-India footprint and a market presence that borders on the monopolistic. With that dominance comes responsibility—towards passengers, staff, and the system that enables civil aviation to function safely and predictably. That responsibility, the DGCA’s inquiry makes clear, was cavalierly abdicated. The disruptions were not caused by bad weather, geopolitical shocks, or unforeseeable technical failures; they were the direct outcome of management choices.
IndiGo chose to over-optimise operations, squeezing every possible minute of productivity out of aircraft and crew. It sought to maximise profits by maximising duties—stretching pilots, cabin crew, and ground staff to the edge of regulatory tolerance, and sometimes beyond. Recruitment was kept to a minimum, buffers were treated as waste, and resilience was sacrificed at the altar of efficiency. When the government enforced revised Flight Duty Time Limitation norms—rules meant precisely to prevent fatigue-related risks—IndiGo found itself cornered. Compliance could no longer be postponed. The result was predictable. The airline’s computer and rostering systems, designed for a fantasy world of perfect utilisation, simply collapsed when asked to rearrange schedules within the rules. For three days, ticketing, operations, and crew management descended into dysfunction.
The human cost was enormous. Over 2,500 flights were cancelled, nearly 1,900 delayed, and more than three lakh passengers were stranded. Many airports lacked even basic infrastructure to handle such crowds—adequate seating, food, or information. Passengers bore losses of time, money, missed weddings, funerals, exams, and business commitments, none of it through any fault of their own. The inquiry committee has rightly fixed responsibility where it belongs: squarely on management. For once, such lapses have not been brushed under the carpet in the name of “industry realities”. The fine, though substantial on paper, is unlikely to dent IndiGo’s balance sheet. Its real value lies elsewhere. It serves as a signal to an industry that has grown complacent on the back of consolidation and market power. When airlines enjoy near-captive markets, the temptation to cut corners grows stronger. Regulation then becomes not an irritant, but a necessity. If this penalty forces IndiGo to invest in robust systems, realistic staffing, and genuine operational buffers, it will have served a purpose. If not, it will remain just another fine—easily absorbed, quickly forgotten, and paid for, ultimately, by the flying public.
