The Sunday Indian

Even before the dreaded counter-narrative of 90-hour work weeks, we were being stripped of our Sundays, says Shivaji Dasgupta, Founder-MD at INEXGRO Brand Advisory

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Shivaji Dasgupta
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A normal Sunday for an Indian

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Kolkata: In the goosebumps classic Chariots of Fire, Eric Liddell refuses to race on a Sunday, as it was inconsistent with his faith. In the flirtatious chartbuster, Never on Sunday, Melina Mercouri and successors insist that kissing is verboten this day of the week. In Denmark, the home of engineers Larsen and Toubro, standard working hours rarely exceed 37 from Monday to Friday. 

India, though, offers a different vada for the pao. Even before the blockbuster proclamation by the engineering honcho, our weekend culture was already in rapid devaluation mode. Although, during the decades of Nehruvian restraint, Sunday was indeed a sacrosanct entity. Defined by sublime rituals of laziness, which varied marginally, from presidency to residency. Truthfully, exquisite produce for meaningful nostalgia. 

In Calcutta, the first port of call was The Telegraph Colour Magazine, a dash of perestroika in a statesmanly universe. The wonder of wonders, indulgence was gleefully acknowledged, whether eating out in Tangra or gymnastics for the intellect. All India Radio was the perfect doubles partner, with ‘sponsored’ programmes, especially the Bournvita Quiz Contest unifying entire families. Over time, television came to the party, with Different Strokes and a temperamental array of irregulars, including Sunil Gavaskar Presents. Test match glories that were surely heard but often not seen. Much like most else, in such manicured times.

Amongst the meaningful rituals of the day was surely the Sunday Lunch. The meat quite like a gondola in Venetian waters, keenly awaiting the due diligence of rice and curry. After a resounding nap, an outing would be in order, in a moody Ambassador or a stereophonic tramcar. To the lakeside, with calming hues, or the residence of a hospitable relative, hopefully with surplus eggs to concoct the snackable omelette. Doordarshan would run Hindi and Bengali movies in alternate weeks and with a dash of luck, Uttam Kumar and Amitabh Bachchan could be a cherished living room guest. Shopping centers, notably, were routinely closed. 

Post-liberalisation, Sundays would never be the same again. From a Test Match rest day, it rapidly became a T20 frenzy, with activities queuing up for profitable patronage. Departmental stores and shopping malls were increasingly routine and they thrived on holiday business, fuelled by the magic wand of credit cards. Restaurants and multiplexes flourished like internet influencers, with competitive weekending becoming the greatest urban pastime. Initially anecdotal and subsequently, a social media obsession, as digital neighbour's playlists needed urgent replication. Even before the dreaded counter-narrative of 90-hour work weeks, we were being stripped of our Sundays. Largely due to kamikaze manoeuvres and not the devious intent of wealthy others. 

As a collateral peril, work cultures were losing their homogeneity. The service economy pampering weekend revellers moved to optional weekday holidays, their Monday rapidly becoming our Sunday. Children of such societal martyrs, well remunerated though, would never see them on routine weekends, sincerely damaging quality family time. Adding ghee to the pulao was the gig economy epidemic, whether moonlighting or mainstreaming, where every day could be a potential payday. With affluence and ambition being scalable stock in trade, the blurring of weekdays and weekends was now plainly official.

This blurring, truthfully, has also occurred between work and play, at large. With a few exceptions, professionals are left to their own devices, all through the workday. We are live on Facebook, LinkedIn, Instagram and a wide array of news and views aggregators, licensed by both employers as well as our own good senses. A function of greater outcome orientation in HR practices, unlike the erstwhile assembly line rigour of supervision. Even surgeons and advocates can relax to the tunes of Neha Kakkar's Balenciaga, in between robotic surgeries or prolific arguments. The much-coveted chai and cigarette breaks of corporate wonder years are now on demand, in a multi-sensorial fashion. In a peculiar contradiction, our leisures are keeping pace with our stresses, although a viable equilibrium is not in sight. 

Two other rapidly influential socio-economic aspects are at play in this work-life confusion. The rapidly blossoming creative economy, from films to OTT and the free-for-all digital creation space. Where traditionally, time-bound work regimes were never in vogue and what was a narrow isolated space is now widespread. Deeply serious market-linked work, the levity of the output should not deviate anyone from the gravitas of the business implications. Advertising and media are lateral replicas, deadlines both artificial and genuine, inducing a perpetual work calendar. Fame, perhaps, a suitable motive for burning the joys of youth. 

The other, predictably, is the start-up economy, buoyed by stellar returns in miniature time frames. Founders emerge from anywhere and everywhere and manage to find followers who subscribe to their ruthless work ethics. Upbeat bullish societal conversations increasingly isolate the traditional nine to fivers, as if reckless squanderers of precious potential and opportunity. Life expectancy is remarkably on the rise and the workforce of the day is determined to play multiple innings, whether parallel or linear.

The L&T leader has effortlessly become the Gunga Din of our times, inspiring whiplashes from a remarkably wide societal spectrum. More than an ideological disruption, it comes across as a PR blunder. A fervent sermon by an 'elder', in Hindu Undivided Family tradition, to a seemingly under-focused youth operating cadre, delivered from a family charpoy and not a boardroom microphone. In a B2C, and not B2B, corporate environment, such emotions would not have gone past a basic hygiene audit.

For an organisation noted for building bridges, including the one on the River Kwai ( movie version in Sri Lanka), this comment has burned many bridges. While truthfully, it is a wake-up call for a growing economy, aggressively tampering with generational mind-body equilibrium. Sundays have long been lost to the frenetic pursuit of acquisition and soon, we may lose our sanity as well.

Sunday work-life balance L&T
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