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In the last few days, ‘9-9-6’ has been dialing across screens as Narayan Murthy anchored the infamous rule prevalent in China in a recent interview with Arnab Goswami. Murthy, the 79-year-old billionaire, is well known as the founder of Infosys. But digital services are not all Mr. Murthy sells—one of his best-selling products is, in fact, the inexhaustible stories of ‘hard work.’
There is a saying in China: 9, 9, 6. You know what it means? 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., 6 days a week. And that is a 72-hour work week,” he explained, as an example of the kind of dedication he believes young Indians may need to show.
As Arnab predicted in the interview, the statement went viral and drew criticism. But one could very well have predicted this, for perched on the ‘great wall’ of caste and class privileges, Murthy’s vision may have been puzzled—which explains why he could see as far as China but not its neighbour.
People shared various criticisms online—from asking him to deliver an infrastructure at par with China first to reminding him that the practice stands banned in China.
However, the laborious debate between Murthy and his critics has been stretched to the point of convergence, for there is something sitting in plain sight that both Murthy and the critics who call out toxic work cultures refuse to see—one does not have to take a flight all the way to China. One just needs to step down the ladder to look at what lurks underneath.
Take Raju Suryavanshi, for example: for 13 years he has worked as a security guard in a building with more than 200-flats in Pune. He shared that when he joined, his salary was ₹9,000; today it is ₹12,000. He works a 12-hour shift from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., has no paid leave, and no job security. What he has, however, is an equally worn-out chair inside a suffocating steel set-up that leaves space only for mosquitoes, which he has often brought up with the building secretary. Between conversations, he paused to wave at a few children—children he has seen grow up. He admitted he has wanted to quit for a long time, but continues because he was promised a raise this Diwali to Rs.18,000 which still hasn’t arrived. In 13 years, Raju’s salary has gone up by just 33%—a raise so small that rising inflation has washed over it entirely. In real terms, he earns less today than when he started. And Raju is just one example.
Saroja Kamble, who has been a household worker for more than 13 years, shared how she manages her finances and children’s fees all on her own. “Both my kids are dependent on me, if I don’t show up for work, they will go hungry.” She leaves her house at 8am and returns home at 7pm, where yet more work awaits her.
Even after 13 years of working consistently at several houses, paid leave is only a concept for Saroja. “ I only take a leave when I am very sick.” She added.
Rakesh, 42 (name changed), has been working as a part-time auto driver. In conversation, he stroked a bud he believes is taking root in India. Rakesh holds a master’s degree and works in the municipal corporation, which is why he wished his name to be redacted. He shared that the job used to draw him a decent salary, but inflation has been extremely back-breaking as a sole earner, so for the past six months he has taken on working part-time, starting from home at 7 a.m., dropping his children at school, and returning around 11 p.m. He shared how many like him have taken on additional jobs for extra income.
Sanjay Ramchandra Jadhav has been working as an auto driver for more than 30 years and stays on the pothole-stricken roads for 12–15 hours every day. Sanjay had a question for Murthy: “Narayan Murthy has talked about a 70-hour work week before, but he only looks at people who work in offices with fixed timings and promised incomes, not our invisible labour. Ask him to go look at people who sell vegetables or those who work as construction workers—people who work for daily wages work for 15 hours. He doesn’t see us; we are underground for him.”
“They need us to even take care of their kids and cook their food. They only think about filling their coffers by digging our graves. If we do not show up, there will be no food for us or for them.”
Like many auto drivers, his back is beginning to suffer. For the majority of people in this country, there are no lunch breaks, no paid leaves, and no job security. From delivery riders to househelps to security guards, this country stands on crooked backs—all the ‘hard work’ that might have been invisible to Murthy, perched on his great wall of privilege.
As debates about work culture, limited work timings, inclusivity, and the necessity of period leave continue in climate-controlled halls and coffee shops with newly installed air purifiers, the drivers who bring them there, the domestic workers who take care of their households, and the café staff who hand out their orders—all remain invisible in these conversations. The majority of workers on whose labour these buildings stand remain at the margins.
But as much as our Prime Minister evokes criticism as the soul of democracy, one must be appreciative and hold Mr. Murthy in reverence, for it is not within everyone’s calibre to zoom in all the way to China. Perhaps he could share some of those helpful tips with our Prime Minister sometime soon.
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