Imagine stepping out of your workplace at 6:01 PM, not with the weight of unfinished tasks or guilt for leaving, but with a genuine sense of satisfaction- and even a bit richer for your time. For most Indian professionals, that’s a fantasy.
In India, “overtime” is less about compensation and more about silent sacrifices: long hours, missed family dinners, and the unspoken expectation that your loyalty is measured by how much of your personal life you surrender to the “company family.” It’s a cycle that repeats daily, with millions buying into the idea that staying late is the price of ambition, or worse, just basic job security.
But then, something remarkable happened. Pragati, an Indian teacher living in Japan, posted a short video that sent shockwaves through social media. Her Instagram reel didn’t just show cherry blossoms or sushi platters- it revealed a completely different approach to work, one where time is not just respected but protected by law.
Pragati (@lucknowiinjapan) pulled back the curtain on Japanese work culture, and for her Indian audience, it was nothing short of revolutionary.
In her video, Pragati walked viewers through her daily routine, focusing on a detail that most Indians would find almost unbelievable: in Japan, every single minute of extra work is officially counted and compensated. There, overtime isn’t some fuzzy concept to be “adjusted” later or repaid with vague promises. It’s tracked down to the minute, and the pay comes automatically.
She explained how, at her school, if she stays even 30 minutes past her official hours, the system logs it and her paycheck reflects it. There’s no need to linger at your desk just to look industrious, and certainly no pressure to answer after-hours calls or emails for free.
The message is clear: if your employer wants more of your time, they have to pay for it. Time is money, in the most literal sense.
What truly stunned viewers, though, wasn’t just the fairness of getting paid for every minute, but the discipline and structure woven into the Japanese system. There’s a flipside to the rigor: if you’re late, even by a minute, it’s deducted from your pay.
But this strictness feels less like punishment and more like mutual respect. Both sides- employer and employee- are held accountable. Unlike India’s “hustle culture,” where late nights are worn like badges of honor and boundaries are routinely ignored, the Japanese work contract feels more like a partnership between equals.
You give your best during working hours, and the company respects your life outside of them.
The real bombshell, though, was the so-called “5-day rule.” Pragati shone a light on a regulation that simply doesn’t exist in most Indian workplaces: in Japan, you can’t work more than five days in a row. It’s not just a suggestion, it’s the law, designed to build guardrails against burnout.
This means weekends aren’t just perks- they’re protected rights. Compare that with India, where six-day workweeks are standard, and where business leaders sometimes openly advocate for 70-hour workweeks as if exhaustion were a virtue.
In Japan, rest isn’t seen as laziness but as a critical part of productivity and well-being. Taking time off isn’t “slacking off”- it’s a legal guarantee, a recognition that people are more than just cogs in a corporate machine.
Unsurprisingly, Pragati’s comments section became a hotbed of debate and reflection. Young Indians, especially Gen Z and Millennials, seized the opportunity to vent, swap stories, and question the status quo.
What started as a simple video became a catalyst for a much bigger conversation about the true value of time, respect in the workplace, and the cost of toxic hustle culture. Many pointed out that in India, the obsession with staying late often serves no real purpose- most extra hours are more about optics than output. The expectation to be available around the clock is less about progress and more about control, with little regard for personal boundaries or mental health.
Pragati’s story hit a nerve because it wasn’t just about Japan or a foreign way of life- it was a mirror held up to Indian society’s own unhealthy work habits. Her experience raised uncomfortable questions: Why should anyone have to beg for time off? Why is exhaustion treated as a sign of dedication? What would happen if Indian companies started treating employees’ time as valuable, not expendable? And what could India learn from countries that have already made that shift?
By sharing a slice of her life in Japan, Pragati didn’t just spark envy; she ignited hope and a demand for change. Her story highlighted that respect at work isn’t just about polite words or annual appraisals- it’s about tangible systems that value people, protect their time, and ensure fairness.
The conversation she started is still raging: about the worth of our hours, the need for boundaries, and the possibility of a future where leaving on time is not just allowed, but expected.
Perhaps, inspired by stories like hers, more young Indians will begin to push back against the old narratives, demanding a work culture that’s not just productive, but truly humane.
