The axe has finally fallen.
The Supreme Court's unfortunate decision to uphold Bharat Forge's sacking of Uttam Manohar Nakate for sleeping on the job may mark a milestone in improving corporate productivity, but it threatens to become a millstone around the neck of poor, exploited, exhausted workers.
For the last 20 years, we have been following Comrade Nakate's case closely, and we have noted with deep distress the increasing penchant for hard work all over the world.
Hard work has become a fad -- we start off the day working hard at exercising ourselves, rush to our offices to slog relentlessly there, and spend the evening either by working hard at partying or toiling remorselessly at giving our family quality time.
During the weekends, we work intensely at enjoying ourselves, worried that our neighbours may be enjoying themselves more.
Into this drab world shone Comrade Nakate like a beacon, after falling asleep not once but thrice on the job.
When the High Court upheld his right to snooze and awarded him damages, we rejoiced that pockets of sanity still existed. But, alas, all those hopes have now been dashed by the Supreme Court.
The apex judicial institution has held that, "Having regard to the past conduct of Nakate as also his conduct during the domestic inquiry, we cannot say that the quantum of punishment imposed upon him was wholly disproportionate."
What on earth did Nakate do during the enquiry to so incense the judges? Did he fall asleep during the proceedings?
Be that as it may, it is now clear that the country's top court has fallen victim to the cult of hard work. That leaves two options open to us.
One of them is to file a public interest litigation (PIL) demanding a review by the full bench of the Supreme Court, considering the gravity of the matter.
Did Nakate get the best legal advice? Did his lawyer point out the right precedents, like the fact that Winston Churchill and Charles De Gaulle enjoyed their siestas? Or was his lawyer, by a cruel twist of fate, sleeping on the job?
Perhaps he failed to tell their lordships how scientific studies have found that snatching forty winks on the job can refresh and reinvigorate a tired worker, and how Nakate, who was a 'helper', could help Bharat Forge forge things more efficiently after his nap.
Or could it be that instead of Nakate getting the sack, the Supreme Court merely wanted him to hit the sack? These important questions could be settled with a PIL.
If that doesn't work, the second option would be to lobby Parliament to enshrine the right to snooze in the Constitution. We should have no trouble getting plenty of MPs to support us, considering their track record of sleeping in Parliament.
Support is likely to cut across party lines, with A B Vajpayee, who perfected the art of extending the pause between words into brief naps, and Deve Gowda, the uncrowned king of snoozers, being firmly on our side.
Why, even the Left will agree that dozing is a revolutionary activity, slowing down the extraction of surplus value from workers by greedy capitalists.
Not allowing naps is also so unfair. While bosses can lock the doors of their cabins, draw the shades and curl up on sofas, telling their secretaries to hold all calls, lesser mortals have to stay wide awake.
And if some of the younger MPs are unconvinced, we must point out to them that power naps are a rage in the West.
As a last resort, we could take our lawmakers to any parking lot, where they can hear the raucous snores of scores of chauffeurs.
Can you imagine entrusting your life in Indian traffic to any driver who has not had his refreshing nap?
Meanwhile, we need to be careful that we are not caught napping.
You could, for instance, play computer games instead of dozing, or gossip with colleagues, or stare vacantly into space. There is no law against that yet.
But just in case you do nod off, we suggest you wear sunglasses to work.
I guess that is all for now. The strain on my brain is getting too much.
Yawn.