Every so often, a prominent business leader calls for extraordinary sacrifices from employees, citing the need for national progress or corporate growth. The latest in the saga is the call for a 90 hour work week with no off days. These proclamations, often absurd in their expectations, are met with justifiable outrage from professionals already grappling with long hours and inadequate compensation.

However, this recurring up roar obscures a deeper, more uncomfortable truth: while we condemn workplace exploitation, many of us perpetuate similar injustices in our homes, revealing a selective approach to labour rights. The professional class, which champions workplace dignity and fairness in corporate settings, often fails to extend these principles to domestic workers. These workers, who form the backbone of urban households, navigate a world of arbitrary rules, inconsistent pay, and systemic discrimination. From being banned from using lifts to being denied access to common spaces, their treatment reflects the feudal hierarchies that have persisted for generations.

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It is a grim paradox that those who demand progressive policies in their offices of ten replicate exploitative systems in their homes. This hypocrisy is not just an individual failing but a societal norm reinforced by cultural and class biases, where domestic workers are seen as tools of convenience rather than individuals with rights. The scale of domestic labour in India underscores the urgency of this issue. While official estimates suggest that there are 4.75 million domestic workers, more realistic figures are over 20 to 50 million. These individuals, predominantly women, are often for – ced to work in multiple households just to earn a living wage. Despite their significant contributions, they remain excluded from key labour laws and protections, leaving them vulnerable to exploitation. This legislative gap is not accidental ~ it is a reflection of societal apathy toward this workforce. In dia’s failure to ratify international conventions protecting domestic workers’ rights highlights a reluctance to disrupt the status quo. In the absence of written contracts or fixed working hours, employment terms are dictated by employer whims. The pandemic further exposed this inequity, as domestic workers were summarily dismissed or had their wages cut without any form of severance. Criticisms of excessive corporate demands often centre on their impact on personal lives and mental health. Yet, in our homes, domestic workers are expected to be perpetually available, often without additional pay or consideration for their well-being.

This duality ~ where we oppose exploitation when it affects us but ignore it when we are the exploiters ~ reveals a deeper moral failing. True advocacy for labour rights demands introspection. It requires us to recognise that our homes are not exempt from the principles of fairness and dignity. Until we confront the exploitation within our own households, our outrage against corporate overreach will remain shallow. The path to a more equitable society begins with acknowledging the humanity of all workers, whether in boardrooms or kitchens. Only then can we claim to stand for justice in its truest sense.