Determined formatting preference for plain paragraph structureDetermined formatting preference for plain paragraph structureIndia marked Labour Day this May 1st the way it marks every occasion of national significance: with a WhatsApp forward featuring a golden sunrise, a blurry photo of APJ Abdul Kalam, and a spelling mistake in the third line. “Forwarded as received,” confirmed Rajesh Uncle, who has not verified a single piece of information since 2009 but has nonetheless kept seventeen family groups informed, motivated, and mildly confused every morning for fifteen years.
Suresh Mehta, Senior Manager at a mid-sized IT firm in Bengaluru, wished his team a restful Labour Day in an email timestamped 11:59 p.m. on April 30th, which also contained three action items, a revised deadline, and a reminder that Q2 targets “don’t take holidays.” He signed off with “Take care of yourself “. The smiley face, sources say, did not help. His team read the email immediately, because every Indian IT professional is biologically incapable of seeing a notification and not opening it. This is believed to be genetic.
In a moving ceremony at a government office in Lucknow, officials paused all activity for two minutes to honour the dignity of labour. This was, eyewitnesses noted, indistinguishable from the previous four hours. A peon named Ramprasad, who has been “just going to bring the file” since Tuesday, was given a garland and photographed for the departmental newsletter. The file has not yet arrived. It is expected by Diwali.
Across Mumbai, families who had not boiled their own water since 2014 found themselves in an unprecedented domestic crisis after bai did not come in. The situation was described by one Andheri housewife as “worse than COVID” and by her husband as “I thought you knew how to make chai.” By noon, three separate uncles had driven to the nearest Udupi hotel and claimed the thali as a personal achievement. “Home-cooked feel,” one of them insisted, pointing at a steel plate. He was not challenged.
Gig economy delivery workers, meanwhile, received a notification that Labour Day was a “high-demand period” and that surge pricing was now active. A badge that said Labour Day Warrior was added to their app profile. This was the bonus.
At a construction site in Hyderabad where a luxury apartment tower is being built each flat starting at ₹4 crore — the developer gave a moving speech to the migrant labourers who have been living in tin shelters next to the foundation for eight months. He called them the backbone of India. He then left in a Mercedes. The labourers were given a packet of biscuits and a small tricolour flag. The flag was Nice.
Arjun, 28, a software engineer in Pune who took Labour Day as an opportunity to sleep until 9 a.m., was awoken at 7:15 by his mother asking if he had seen what Sharma ji’s son is doing these days. Sharma ji’s son, it emerged, had just been promoted, bought a flat, and most devastatingly “is also looking very fit.” Arjun ate breakfast in silence and opened his laptop. “Chalo,” said his mother, satisfied. “Rest is also important.”
As the sun set on Labour Day, India paused, briefly, to reflect on those who toil the farmers, the factory workers, the delivery riders, the domestic helpers, the construction labourers, the 23-year-olds doing the work of four people for the salary of one. A candle was lit somewhere. A politician gave a speech. A graphic saying “Shramik Diwas Ki Hardik Shubhkamnaen 🙏” was forwarded 400 million times. And then everyone got back to work, because the deadline doesn’t move, the client doesn’t care, and as Rajesh Uncle’s 6 a.m. WhatsApp message had already made clear success only comes to those who grind.
Get some sleep. You won’t, but try.
This article is satire. All characters are fictional except Rajesh Uncle, who exists in every family.