The myth of long hours.

“Work sets you free.”

I remember a story Baba would regale us with about the time he was newly married to my mum. The then Fg Offr and Mrs Gadgil were posted to Jorhat in Assam. Every day, Baba would leave for office in the morning, and come back late.

Technically, the office would close at 1400h, and everyone would go home (yes, that is how it is still in the IAF), have lunch, rest, and then show up for games in the evening. Not my father, though. He was a workaholic. He would slave away till late evening before returning home, tired, to his newly wedded wife, who waited patiently for him to come back, not knowing any better except that the other husbands seemed to be returning earlier and only hers seemed to be loaded with work.

Anyway, it so happened that at a party, when she was dancing with the CO (it was customary for the youngest officer’s wife to have one dance with the Commanding Officer), Wg Cdr Rudra, he asked her if all was well and said that if she had any complains or wished to speak to an elder, she should come straight to him, and that his doors are always open. Now, it is important to remember the culture in the IAF those days was that the CO, typically a middle-aged, 40+, experienced officer, would be like a father figure to the young 20-something hoodlums running about in the unit. He’d not limit himself to their professional issues but would be equally concerned about their lives in general, looking into how much they spent on drink, whether they treated their wives right, if they were mentally in a good space, and so on. And Wingco Rudra was known to be a tough but kind boss.

Of course, when the CO asks you about your problems, as the wife of the youngest officer, it was expected that you smiled, nodded politely, and told him that all was well. However, the young bride that my mother was (and given that all this was totally alien to a girl from Sadashiv Peth, Pune), she immediately told the CO exactly what her problem was, “You see, Anil does not come home on time, because he has so much work. Could you please give him less work?” This would have horrified anyone listening in, that she should speak so boldly to the CO. But Rudra was an empathetic man, and a good leader. He smiled, and promised to look into it.

The next day, my father received a phone call at around 1330h. “Gads, Rudra here. I am going to leave in 20-odd minutes; will be passing your house on my way. Would you like me to drop you off?” Well, as I explained some time ago, you aren’t supposed to refuse your CO. So, all work that was in front of Baba was filed, folded, swept off the table, shoved into the drawers, and locked up, though not without some cursing under the breath. At sharp 1400h, the young Fg Offr Anil Gadgil was ready, cap under the arm, briefcase in hand, waiting for his CO, who steamed in driving his Jeep, and chatted along the way, dropping him off at his doorstep, much to Maa’s delight.

The scene repeated for the next few days, and soon, Baba learnt to finish his work at 1345h, pack everything neatly, and be ready for his CO at 1400h, turned out smartly, ready to leave, looking forward to seeing his beloved at home.

On the fourth (or was it the fifth?) day, Wg Cdr Rudra told him, as he got off at the gate of his home, “Gads, I am not going to do this every day. I just wanted to prove to you that you can finish your work within office hours and give your new bride the time and attention she deserves. Be home at 1430h every day from now on. You don’t have any excuse that you can’t finish your work by that time. Because, as we have established clearly, you can. If you can’t, there can only be two reasons for it: either the enemy is bombing the runway, or you are lazy & incompetent. And as far as I can see, there is no enemy action overhead at the moment.”

Since that day, Baba always finished his work by closing time, came home to his family, and (I’d like to believe) lived a happier and more fulfilling life than if he had worked longer hours.

You see, if work could have set you free, 11 million people would have survived the Holocaust.

I just thought I’d put this here since so many people are cursing their bosses for expecting them to put in 70 hours of work that it might be a refreshing change to speak of a boss, albeit of a bygone era, who saw things slightly differently.

Here’s a random picture of my parents dancing carefreely in the 1980s at a squadron party.