When the first wave of food apps hit Bangladesh, few might have imagined how much they would transform the rhythm of our cities. What started off as a bargain-basement convenience for city technocrats has, over time, grown into a full-fledged ecosystem that supports millions, provides jobs for thousands, and quietly redesigns the operation of Bangladesh's urban economy.
Now, riders in pink vests, orange helmets, or in local brand colour are as ubiquitous a part of Dhaka's daily commute as rickshaws or buses. They don't simply carry food -- they carry stories of a changing economy, where technology, consumerism, and survival converge hopefully and disturbingly.
Take Foodi, for instance, one of the nation's fastest-growing platforms. Within months, it has expanded to 23 cities across Bangladesh, far beyond Dhaka and Chittagong to provincial towns where the idea of on-demand delivery was unimaginable just a short while ago. The size of the ticket of a typical order floats around BDT 480, proof that the service is luring middle-class consumers grabbing a speedy fast-food bite and families treating themselves to pricier meals.
On the streets, this translates into livelihoods for 2,700 to 3,000 active riders. Unlike many gig-economy jobs that barely pay the bills, these riders can earn up to Tk35,000 per month depending on their hours and location -- an income that can exceed what many entry-level graduates make in traditional corporate roles. Riders are also covered under welfare schemes that include medical insurance, accident coverage, training in professional conduct, and even financial assistance when personal work items are lost or damaged. These benefits, while not perfect, mark an important step in recognizing delivery partners as more than disposable gig workers.
Foodpanda, the market giant, operates at a scale that dwarfs this. With over 100,000 registered riders, it has built a workforce larger than many of Bangladesh’s top private employers. The average full-time rider working 8-10 hours a day earns over Tk20,000 monthly. The company has also built a welfare net of its own -- insurance tie-ups, healthcare access, discounted internet packages, and skill development programs through partners like Shikho.
Their “panda hearts” initiative reflects a broader push to frame riders not as mere cogs in the delivery wheel but as part of a community. Yet, the hard truth remains that both companies operate within the volatile mechanics of the gig economy -- income fluctuates, long hours are the norm, and the protections are still far from what traditional labor law would guarantee.
The story is not just about riders, though. Restaurants and home chefs have found in these platforms both salvation and struggle. Foodi itself has in excess of 11,000 restaurant partners, 2,000 home chefs, and 1,200 cloud kitchens operating on its system. Amazingly, over 1,600 of these entities are owned by women, a silent entrepreneurial revolution. To point out, for those women who lack the capability to easily set up a physical restaurant, they are offered a virtual shopfront that gives them exposure and turnover without the protracted costs of physical installations. Joining restaurants typically experience incremental sales increases following membership, with the percentage depending on size and cuisine.
Foodpanda, through sheer volume, has made the same a reality -- especially for small restaurants who would have never had the marketing muscle to make themselves heard beyond their communities. A kiosk that serves kebabs in Mirpur can now sit on the same site as a multinational’s outlet, leveling the playing field as much as visibility goes. But this opportunity comes at a cost. Commissions, often viewed as steep by small vendors, eat into already thin margins. Many restaurants privately admit they feel trapped in a paradox -- they can’t afford to leave the apps because they bring in business, but they also struggle to profit after paying the platform’s cut.
For consumers, the rise of food delivery apps has been nothing short of transformative. Ordering biriyani during lunch hours or fast food during the evening peak has become second nature for millions. The convenience is undeniable -- you avoid traffic, don't need to stand in queues, and have options literally at your fingertips. But behind this convenience lies an emerging cultural shift. Dining out or ordering in is no longer a special treat; it's an emerging everyday lifestyle, especially for younger Bangladeshis for whom time is their scarcest resource.
Payment systems are also keeping pace with these tendencies. Transactions at Foodi are now divided equally between digital payments and cash-on-delivery, speaking both to the prevalence of cash culture and the gradual growth of financial technology. Foodpanda's campaign for card and wallet payments is part of a broader national drive for digital inclusion. Every order placed online, every transaction shifted away from cash, strengthens the backbone of Bangladesh’s digital economy.
Perhaps the most under-discussed dimension of this boom is sustainability. Delivery apps generate thousands of daily trips, adding to urban congestion, and bring with them mountains of packaging waste. Both delivery companies are aware of this tension and have taken steps, though small ones, to offset it. Foodi has introduced the “Empower Cycle” program to promote bicycle-based deliveries, encourages eco-friendly packaging, and has even launched “Food Rescue,” which resells unfulfilled orders at a discount to reduce waste.
Foodpanda, for its part, says 92% of its riders now use bicycles and that its “opt out of cutlery” feature has cut plastic waste by 84%. These are commendable moves, but they only scratch the surface of the larger environmental impact that an on-demand economy generates.
The contradictions of this industry are everywhere. Food delivery apps democratize access to markets but concentrate power in the hands of platforms. They create thousands of jobs but also introduce the insecurities of gig labour. They delight consumers with convenience while straining city infrastructure with more traffic and more plastic. They offer the promise of innovation and inclusion -- female cooks, online payments, variable income -- but risk worsening inequalities if commissions, rules, and rider protections are not made a top priority.
What is happening in Bangladesh is a translatable global tale: Convenience technology racing ahead of the policies and controls meant to regulate it. If left unmitigated, the industry may lean too far in the platforms' interests against riders and restaurants, who may suffer the consequences. But if guided responsibly -- with fairer commissions, stronger worker protections, and more sustainable practices -- this could become one of the most dynamic examples of how digital platforms uplift an emerging economy.
For now, as we watch the riders zip past in traffic with boxes strapped behind them, we should see more than just food on wheels. They carry a slice of Bangladesh’s future, one that blends entrepreneurship, technology, and survival in unpredictable but deeply human ways. Beyond the box lies an entire economy in motion -- and how we choose to shape it will decide whether this industry evolves into a cornerstone of Bangladesh’s urban progress.
Yemad Fayed Ahmed is a public relations professional.