On a rainy November morning, 19-year-old Rita Oli (name changed) was inside her hostel room in Dillibazar, refreshing ride-hailing apps with growing anxiety.

She had an MBBS (Bachelor of Medicine, Bachelor of Surgery) entrance examination that day at Jaya Multiple Campus in Makalbari, Jorpati, and candidates were required to reach the centre at least two hours early for biometric attendance. Oli began searching for a ride at 8:30 am.

By 9:30 am, none had arrived.

‘‘I was panicking,’’ she recalled. ‘‘I thought I might miss the exam.”

Oli, who has asked to remain anonymous for fear of being blocked on ride-hailing platforms, had moved to the city from outside the Valley. Unfamiliar with the city, she relied heavily on apps like Pathao as “buses don’t drop us exactly where we need to go, and it’s easy to get lost,’’ she said.

That rainy morning, despite increasing fares repeatedly, no rider accepted her request, for over an hour. ‘‘Finally, I secured a taxi but it was for Rs855, more than three times the usual fare. I usually avoid cars due to motion sickness, but I had no choice,’’ she shared. By the time she reached the exam centre at 10:25 am, she was physically unwell and mentally exhausted.

Oli recently learned she had not secured the MBBS scholarship she had been aiming for. With no financial cushion and this being her second attempt, she eventually enrolled in a nursing programme, where she did get a scholarship.

Subhana KC, a bachelor level student, who commutes daily from Doleshwar to Thapathali, shared a similar story. ‘‘I started using ride-hailing apps to avoid early-morning bus delays as sometimes it resulted in my ID card being seized for late arrival,’’ she said. “It also led to deduction in my practical marks, which in turn affected my eligibility for scholarships.”

However, KC said her trust in these platforms has eroded over time as drivers accept multiple trips while still en route, leaving her waiting or sometimes even missing the class, affecting her attendance. She also describes instances where the final fare exceeded the amount agreed upon in Pathao. “Once I booked a ride for Rs140, but by the time the ride ended, I was charged Rs240,” she said.

High fares often force students to cut their other expenses. “Sometimes I’ve skipped meals because of ride costs,” she said.

Drivers themselves are navigating a precarious gig economy, caught between platform rules, traffic conditions, and user expectations.

One rider, who asked to be identified only as Suman, has worked across Pathao, inDrive, and Yango for over three years. He said commissions and inconsistent pricing make earnings unpredictable.

“I left Pathao because of its 20 percent commission,” he said. “I prefer Yango now; even if the base fare is low, bonuses help. In inDrive, I didn’t find the bonus system satisfactory.”

Long-distance trips often barely cover fuel. “We sometimes travel 14 to 15 km for very little,” he said. “But cancelling affects ratings.”

Rajesh (pseudonym to protect their privacy), another rider of inDrive explains, he sets fares based on distance and fuel costs as it’s the freedom given by the company which users don’t like.

“If we charge less on normal days, why can’t we adjust during rain or peak hours? Users can accept or reject it,” Rajesh argued. ‘‘What we need is clearer pricing rules. If there were fixed rates given by the government, we wouldn’t be at odds with passengers.”

A representative at the Yango Nepal, speaking on condition of anonymity, explained that surge pricing functions as a response to imbalances in demand and supply. It is the same for every ride hailing app and varies by location.

“When there are more users requesting rides in a certain area and fewer drivers nearby, surge pricing is introduced to attract drivers,” the official said. The platform indicates this surge with visual cues on the app so users can see pricing changes.

On driver control, the official emphasised that drivers do not have authority to change pricing. “If a user reports that a driver asked for extra money, that driver is penalised or suspended for 29 days,” he said. The app uses an algorithmic system that prioritises drivers with better ratings and automatically tracks forced cancellations.

Addressing complaints about riders accepting multiple trips, he said the system uses “chained orders” to save time and fuel, allowing drivers to accept a new request near the end of a trip. “Sometimes the system goes wrong,” he acknowledged.

The Yango official also highlighted its safety features, from driver identity and speed monitoring to SOS and 24/7 support as part of ongoing efforts to protect users and drivers alike. The company noted that provincial regulations for ride-hailing are still absent, creating uncertainty.

Beyond platforms, students and experts point to larger systemic issues. Sociologist Saru Rijal of Tribhuvan University argues that the crisis students face cannot be understood only through the lens of ride-hailing apps. It reflects the long neglect of public transport.

“Our public transport is slow and unpredictable,’’ she said. ‘‘Whether a bus moves on time and reaches the destination often depends on the driver’s mood.”

Overcrowding, she added, increases the risk of harassment and theft, making buses unsafe for women and young students.

‘‘As a result those who can afford it turn to ride-hailing apps, even at high cost,’’ she said. Rijal criticised fare manipulation tactics she has observed, on certain apps. So she recommends the platform, ‘‘to establish maximum fare limits alongside minimum rates to protect both riders and passengers’’ and ‘‘pre-trip payments to prevent overcharging’.’

She argued, the responsibility lies with the state. Rijal is of the view that if the government invested in reliable buses and roads, students wouldn’t be forced to depend so heavily on ride-hailing services. “We wouldn’t need foreign apps to fill a gap that should be served by public infrastructure,” she added.

When mobility depends on market forces rather than public systems designed to serve all citizens, the most vulnerable pay the highest price, in missed opportunities, in financial strain, and in emotional exhaustion, says Rijal. And that’s what Rita’s story shows.

For Subhana, the choice remains daily, unpredictable buses or unaffordable rides. Their experience raises a larger question: Should access to education and opportunity depend on algorithm-driven apps, or should public transport be dependable to guarantee access for all?