Waiting for Waiting Lists to Go Away

 

In November 2023, Indian Railways (IR) boldly proclaimed itself the “most safe and affordable mode of transport” and pledged to eliminate passenger waitlists by 2027. Just a month later, it announced an even more ambitious plan: a ₹1 lakh crore investment to procure 7,000–8,000 new train sets over the next 15 years, part of a broader ₹4.2 lakh crore infrastructure overhaul. This included multi-tracking seven high-density corridors, completing the Eastern and Western Dedicated Freight Corridors (DFCs), and adding 5,500–6,000 km of new tracks in FY25.

 

IR also projected a surge in annual passenger numbers from 800 crore to 1,000 crore and proposed 3,000 new trains—alongside the massive infrastructure upgrade—to be delivered within just 4 to 5 years. This longer timeline, endorsed as the Prime Minister’s guarantee, effectively contradicted the original 2027 deadline, suggesting that the earlier figure may have been floated without serious deliberation.

 

Yet, apart from a controversial plan to increase the production of non-AC coaches—by scaling back on new AC coaches, a move many view as backward-looking—there has been little visible progress.

 

In the meantime, IR continued with a flurry of announcements recently: fare hikes, a revised promise to introduce 1,000 new trains over five years (a steep drop from the earlier pledge of 3,000), and new rules on waiting lists and reservations. The pattern of walking back on grand declarations without revisiting the original plan is increasingly hard to ignore.

 

IR proudly prints on every ticket that passengers receive a 55% concession. But what exactly is this meant to convey? That since the service is subsidized, passengers should simply accept overcrowding, delays, and poor facilities without expecting meaningful improvements? If that is the implied message, it risks sounding more like a disclaimer than a commitment to service itself, let alone quality.

 

There is no reason IR’s passenger segment must be inherently loss-making. With India’s massive population, a vast and dense railway network, and a deeply embedded culture as well as necessity of rail travel, IR has the unique potential to deliver better services while steadily moving toward financial sustainability—with or without central subsidies—if backed by coherent planning and accountability.

 

In that context, the recent fare hike is both politically bold and fiscally underwhelming. While it is commendable that IR moved at all—despite fare hikes being deeply unpopular—the timid scale of the revision undermines its significance. The projected additional revenue of ₹600–700 crore annually amounts to just 1% of IR’s ₹80,000 crore earnings. It is a symbolic gesture—akin to boiling the ocean with fanfare only to recover a few tepid drops.

 

IR defines its core business as inter-city and long-distance travel for a long time. And yet, for years, it has operated like a hyperactive multitasker—trying to be everything to everyone, everywhere. The result? A network increasingly clogged by suburban and short-distance commuter trains, many of which run under 70 km on average and are about as aligned with IR’s core mandate as a bicycle lane is with a national highway. These short-haul services are invariably deeply loss-making and operationally out of sync with the long-distance focus that IR claims to champion. They drain capacity, dilute efficiency, and leave the system stretched thinner than a pantry car’s coffee.

 

What is needed is a healthy dose of structural clarity. A pragmatic step would be to hive off suburban and short-distance services into separate PSUs—albeit in partnership with state and city governments—on the lines of India’s successful Metro rail models. At the very least, states and cities must start paying their share of both capital and operational expenses. Because without a rational framework, IR will remain what it increasingly resembles: an overburdened beast hauling every passenger, every distance, with no regard for strategy, sustainability, or sanity.

 

If not all commuter trains, suburban services have to be left to the states and cities. IR continues to bleed money on these routes, with Mumbai being the starkest case. Yet, it repeats its mistakes, like piloting Bengaluru's commuter rail project. Such services should be handled by separate entities with independent finances, but in partnership of IR as it would continue to own the fixed infrastructure.

 

Long-distance train services like Shatabdi, Tejas, Vande Bharat, Rajdhani, Gareeb Rath, and Duranto must be expanded, modernised, and backed by serious upgrades in infrastructure, maintenance, and both pre-boarding and on-board facilities. But this is conditional on one important issue: resisting the new national fad of flagging off Vande Bharat trains without so much as a basic check on likely patronage. Running gleaming trains with empty seats may look good in photo ops, but every such service must actually carry passengers—not just political mileage.

 

Now, for a class-wise reality check. Passengers in AC1, Executive Chair Car, and AC II, largely, are not choosing trains because they are cheaper than flying—they are doing so them for comfort and convenience. Subsidising these premium categories makes about as much sense as offering discounts at in-demand luxury hotels. Fares here should carry a profit margin, plain and simple. These services can and should be upgraded—perhaps even through a reboot of the abandoned private train experiment, which derailed more due to poor conception and tendering than any lack of potential. The rising middle class does not mind paying—so long as the service does not feel like a 1970s throwback with curtains and dust.

 

AC III and AC Chair Car are among the few categories that are at least marginally profitable—and should be prime candidates for expansion. Naturally, IR chose to do the opposite. After incessant complaints about a reduction in non-AC coaches, and passengers encroaching in AC coaches, it scaled down AC coach production and ramped up the manufacturing of non-AC ones. The move not only runs counter to any reasonable idea of modernization, but also completely overlooks the growing demand for affordable, air-conditioned travel. And to make matters worse, these bare bone non-AC coaches are built to last 36 years—a long and uncomfortable legacy for a country aspiring to join the developed world by 2047. We are not just locking in discomfort; we are institutionalizing it.

 

A far better solution is hiding in plain sight: introduce AC seater coaches with 100 Plus, cramped but far more comfortable than non-AC coaches, priced well below AC III. With sensible tools like on-board monitoring and rationalized rake maintenance, running costs can be trimmed. This would nudge a good number of non-AC travellers toward a more comfortable option—while also trimming IR’s losses. Even Vande Bharat trains can—and should—include such coaches. Not only would they serve a wider passenger base, but they might actually make these fancy new trains more valuable for everyone, rather than just photogenic for public at large.

 

There is, of course, the ever-persistent question of poor travellers—particularly hordes of migrants—who have no choice but to travel like cattle in unreserved coaches, packed like sardines, often without elbow room and sometimes even huddled in toilets. It is the kind of “rail experience” no marketing brochure mentions. IR, which loves to tout its social responsibility, must extend it to the most vulnerable meaningfully. Dignity cannot be optional. A practical starting point? Run one or two dedicated 24-coach non-AC trains on major routes, ensuring every traveller gets a seat and no one has to spend hours standing or squatting in whatever space there is in a coach.

 

Some fixes are at once simple: simple solution to a seemingly complex problem. Begin with the basics: extend all well-patronized trains to 24 coaches, use analytics to eliminate pointless stoppages, and deploy smart operational and engineering tweaks to raise average speeds to a respectable 80–100 kmph. In parallel, ramp up the supporting infrastructure: more tracks, more platforms, more trains—and fewer excuses.

 

The DFCs have absorbed massive investments, far in excess of what was envisaged, and with their being nearly complete (save for the final JNPT stretch), tangible outcomes are elusive. The real test: do they actually free up capacity and improve passenger train speeds and if not, why is that so? This needs to be studied thoroughly before investing in more freight corridors. Another issue:  Delhi–Mumbai corridor, with its higher structural headroom, is ideal for reviving the double-decker concept—this time with coach designs that do not feel like climbing into a toaster.

 

And then, of course, there is the mother of all promises: eliminating waiting lists. More than 18 months have passed since the bold declarations of 2023. So far, the “no waitlist” dream is beginning to resemble a pipe dream—and just PR is not going to cut much ice.

 

Nevertheless, in April, IR decided to get creative and capped the Waiting List at 25% of a class’s capacity, reasoning that less than a quarter of waitlisted passengers eventually get confirmed berths anyway. The logic? If they are unlikely to get seats, why let them hope in the first place. Unsurprisingly, experts tore into the move, calling it impractical, uneconomical, and deeply inconvenient. After all, the Waiting List is not just a queue—it is a valuable signal of demand, crucial for planning special trains. By June, IR quietly walked back the decision: the cap was raised to 60% for AC classes and 30% for non-AC. So much for decisive planning.

 

While IR claimed this dramatic U-turn was “data-driven,” the quick reversal suggests it was more instinct than insight. In an age of AI and real-time analytics, why not tailor Waiting List caps to individual trains based on actual occupancy trends? That has the promise of optimizing both convenience and occupancy. It is not rocket science—unless you are doing it with steam-driven computers.

 

IR must also embrace dynamic pricing in a more professional manner than done so far. Airlines have been doing it for years with decent success. Yet IR’s version has had the flair of a half-cooked paratha. It needs a route-specific, AI-powered system that maximizes revenue without scaring away passengers. A pilot model could mirror airline bookings: confirmed seats only, steep cancellation charges, and last-minute Tatkal allocation. It is not just about money—which would flow in for sure— it helps passengers plan, or at least hope, with a little more certainty.

 

Meanwhile, Bikaner saw a trial where waitlisted status would freeze 24 hours before departure, up from the existing four, supposedly to reduce last-minute anxiety. Not to be outdone by themselves, IR then announced chart preparation 8 hours ahead of departure—because what is better than one half-measure? Two, of course. While the intent—passenger certainty—is noble and even desirable, it will not solve the actual problem. A recent report revealed that over 3.27 crore waitlisted passengers could not travel at all in 2024–25. That is not uncertainty. That is a system on overload.

 

One bright spot: IR and IRCTC have finally done some heavy lifting on the digital ticketing front—and the upgrades are not just cosmetic. The revamped system now uses advanced anti-bot technology and a top-tier Content Delivery Network to block those lightning-fast auto-bookings by rogue agents whose clever manipulations made them possess reflexes faster than Olympic sprinters. As a result, 2.5 crore suspicious user IDs have already been deactivated. Aadhaar is now mandatory for Tatkal bookings, putting a solid speed bump in the path of misuse.

 

While the full impact of the measures already undertaken remains to be seen, one thing is clear: it is time IR stops making announcements and actually starts acting with a view to improving passenger experience. Waitlists may not be disappearing tomorrow—or even in the next 4 or 5 years—but strong positive action must be predicated on more than a fighting chance that they might shrink, rather than just headline IR’s next press release.

 

No one, not the least this armchair consultant, is claiming there is a silver bullet to fix the waiting list mess. But if IR genuinely commits to the cause and follows through on these and other sensible measures, the tyranny of the waitlist can, in time, be brought to its knees. Confirmed accommodation on demand does not have to be a fantasy—it could actually become the norm.

On the other hand, if things continue the way they are, one would obviously despair like the Bard’s Macbeth, “…Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time…”.

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