When the Rupee Tosses, Pilots Tire And Delhi Sleeps

India’s sleep industry is booming because its citizens can’t. Yet the only people who insist they sleep soundly are those in charge of the things that keep everyone else awake. If the mattress makers are puzzled, they are not alone.

There is one thing Indian officials claim to have in abundant supply. It is not capacity, or credibility, but sleep. Or rather, the enviable ability to hold on to it while the rest of the country lies awake. Whenever a fresh problem gathers heat, the reassurance arrives on cue. They are not losing sleep. The line is delivered with the serenity of someone convinced the smoke is coming from the neighbour’s kitchen.

It would be merely comic if the contrast were not so sharp. Take aviation. The civil aviation ministry on Friday rolled back a directive to increase mandatory rest for airline pilots, allowing them to fly with less rest than regulators had just deemed necessary. In a country where pilots are told to tighten their sleep schedules, the only people guaranteed eight uninterrupted hours are the ones announcing that they are “not losing sleep” over the turbulence the rest of us feel directly.

If satire needed fuel, Delhi handed it aviation-grade.

The rupee slides, markets twitch, onion prices sulk, and the monsoon takes creative liberties. Through all of it, the political starter kit remains unchanged. Please do not worry, those in charge are sleeping soundly. The phrase itself has become part of the political lexicon, which has three essentials. We inherited this problem. We are committed to reforms. We are not losing sleep.

A former Prime Minister made the line famous. Harshad Mehta made it ironic. The market did not adjust itself to respect his circadian rhythm. His remark survived, embalmed as a warning that reassurance not tethered to reality tends to age like unshielded inventory.

Recently, a government advisor said he does not lose sleep over a depreciating rupee. It appears that babudom has updated the office decor but kept the script. When indicators sulk or sentiment softens, the response is familiar. They are not losing sleep. The economy will adjust. The pain will be temporary. Somewhere in the background, the people who actually feel the pinch keep their own scorecard.

This is where the IndiGo rest-hours episode becomes more than an aviation story. It is a miniature of the national sleep politics. Those who carry real operational risk —pilots, loco drivers, borrowers, small enterprises, households — are told to do more with less. Less rest. Less buffer. Less certainty. The people who shape the risk sleep through the volatility they do not feel.

Public life in India is stressful, but official life appears to operate in a dual state — permanently well-rested, permanently overworked. One eye on the file, the other on the pillow. No one ever admits that some decisions genuinely merit a broken night.

Melatonin-grade Optimism
The phrase “not losing sleep” endures because it has nothing to do with economics. It is an attitude that transfers the emotional load. It shifts the anxiety from those who move the levers to those who must live with their consequences. The official signals tranquillity; the laity absorbs the nerves. It is an inversion of responsibility, delivered with practised calm.

Yet genuine calm is not the enemy. What jars is its choreographed version. Markets do not demand panic; they demand clarity. Citizens do not expect omniscience; they expect acknowledgement. Real reassurance begins when someone in power says this worries me and here is what we are watching. It is not a confession of fear. It is a recognition of reality. And it treats the audience as adults, not dependants.

Meanwhile the country occupies a different nightly landscape. Households lose sleep over EMIs, school fees, rent, orders and payroll. They miss family reunions due to cancelled flights. Markets lose sleep over global cues and stray whispers. The rupee loses sleep over everything. The only people who never lose sleep are those whose words are meant to steady everyone else.

Until communication evolves, the chorus will not. Markets will twitch, transport will get disrupted, the rupee will have mood swings, pilots will be told to shrink their rest, and the microphones will be met with the familiar murmur of not losing sleep.

Thank you those who sleep well. We will remain awake on your behalf. Someone has to keep watch.