The L&T chairman SN Subrahmanyan’s recent call for a 90-hour work week, echoing the earlier, equally dubious proposition of a 70-hour week by Narayana Murthy, throws into sharp relief the chasm between the aspirations of India’s corporate elite and realities of its labor laws. The Factories Act, a relic of a bygone era perhaps, clearly limits the work week to a mere 48 hours. One wonders if these titans of industry have even glanced at the legal code.
An article, whose author and publication now escape me – forcefully argued that overwork is a killer, literally. It marshaled chilling statistics from those bastions of bureaucratic expertise, the ILO and WHO, to demonstrate that India, alongside those shining beacons of worker’s rights, the UAE and Qatar, leads the pack in terms of sheer hours toiled. And why? Because it is Indian workers, those tireless souls, who prop up the global economy, their shoulders straining under the weight of those median working hours.
Enter one more Titan of industry, who, with the solemnity of an ancient sage, pronounceth that work and life are but subjective constructs, mere figments of our individual imaginations. A seductive notion, no doubt, but is there truly such a stark demarcation between the two? I, for one, remain unconvinced. Work and life, it seems to me, are inextricably intertwined, a tangled tapestry of obligations, ambitions, and aspirations.
Consider the student striving for a coveted spot in the hallowed halls of the IITs or the UPSC, or the executive burning the midnight oil to meet a critical deadline. For them, the rigid confines of an 8-hour day seem not just archaic, but downright counterproductive. Work, after all, can be a source of profound meaning, a crucible in which we forge purpose, find flow, and achieve something greater than ourselves. It can be, dare I say it, an antidote to the existential angst that plagues us all.
Did Mother Teresa punch a clock? Did Gandhi meticulously track his billable hours? I think not. For them, as for many others, work was not merely a means to an end, but an integral part of a life lived in service to a higher calling. A fulfilling life, it seems, is often one in which work and personal aspirations are seamlessly interwoven ..but what of the musician, lost in a symphony of creative ecstasy? The writer, wrestling with the demons of the blank page? The researcher, tirelessly pursuing the elusive truth? The craftsman, pouring heart and soul into their creations? These are not the alienated laborers of Marx’s dystopian vision.
They are not cogs in the machine, but rather individuals who find meaning and purpose in their work, blurring the lines between labor and leisure, vocation and avocation. They choose their own hours, their lives reflected in their work, and their work in their lives.
And then there is Japan, that economic juggernaut, its meteoric rise in 60s and 70s fueled by the legendary “salaryman,” a creature of unwavering loyalty, sacrificing all for the greater good of company and country. A nation rebuilding from the ashes of war, driven by a work ethic that would make even Stakhanov blush. “Araam Haram Hai,” declared Nehru, and a generation of Indians took heed.
The debate rages on, a clash of ideologies, a struggle to define the very nature of work and its place in our lives. One thing is certain: the simplistic narratives of the past no longer suffice. We must grapple with the complexities of a world in which the lines between work and life are increasingly blurred, and where the pursuit of meaning and purpose takes many forms.
