‘It Has Ruined Me for Indian Corporate Life’: Delhi Lawyer in London Explains Why She Will Never Return
A young Delhi lawyer now practising in London has drawn widespread attention with a simple, powerful statement about the difference between working in India and the United Kingdom. Jasleen Kaur, a dual-qualified solicitor admitted in both India and England & Wales, says two years of professional life in London have made it impossible for her to imagine returning to Indian litigation or corporate culture.
In a video shared on Instagram, Kaur laid out the contrast in plain terms. “I can never work in Indian litigation or Indian corporate culture because I have worked in the UK for two years now and it has ruined me,” she said. The remark, paired with her description of ordinary working days that end on time, has resonated with thousands of Indian professionals who recognise the pattern she describes.
Kaur completed her LLB in India in 2019 and began her career in civil litigation in Delhi. She later moved to London, earned an LLM in Entertainment Law with distinction in 2022, and started working there in June 2023. What she found was not merely a different salary structure or office aesthetic, but an entirely different understanding of what a professional day is allowed to look like.
In London, she logs in around 9 or 9:30 in the morning. No one expects her earlier. She completes her seven or eight hours of work and logs out strictly at 5:30. After that, the phone stays quiet. “I don’t get any emails or calls from my teammates or my seniors after that. I don’t work at weekends,” she explained. The absence of after-hours messages is not treated as a special perk. It is simply the norm.
That single change has given her something she says was missing earlier: actual time. “The work–life balance is amazing. I actually have time to pursue my hobbies, cook for myself, work on myself, read, watch films, try whatever I want to do,” she said. The caption she chose for the video captured the deeper shift: “I learnt that I can have a career I love without letting it become my entire identity.”
Beyond the clock, Kaur points to a cultural difference that is harder to quantify but equally significant. In her London workplace she is not afraid to ask questions. “I’m not scared to ask my senior or my manager any question. Every stupid question is a good question. I’m encouraged to ask questions. I’m encouraged to bring my queries because, according to them, that helps them as well,” she noted. The environment treats curiosity as useful rather than as a sign of weakness or inexperience.
These everyday details matter because they reveal what many young Indian lawyers and corporate professionals experience as normal. In large parts of the Indian legal and corporate world, the boundary between work and personal life is porous by design. Late-night emails, weekend calls, and the expectation that one remains reachable are common. Work is frequently treated not as one part of life but as its organising principle. Success is often measured by the willingness to surrender evenings, weekends and personal projects. Those who insist on clear limits risk being seen as less committed.
Kaur’s experience is not presented as an attack on every Indian workplace. Individual firms and managers vary. Some Indian organisations have begun experimenting with stricter boundaries and better leave policies. Yet the broader cultural expectation she describes remains familiar enough that her video has triggered extensive discussion. Many who have worked in both systems recognise the contrast immediately. Others who have never left India say the description matches their daily reality.
The deeper issue Kaur raises is not simply the number of hours worked. It is the relationship between a person and their profession. In the culture she left behind, she says, work was expected to become one’s identity. Weekends were not protected. The phone was something to fear rather than a tool that could be put away. In London she has discovered that it is possible to be a competent, committed professional and still finish the day with energy left for cooking, reading, films or any other interest that has nothing to do with clients or deadlines.
“Why would I ever want to go back to the culture that expected so much out of me, expected me to have no life of my own and treat my work as my life when I’m just earning to actually enjoy the rest of my life?” she asked. The question is rhetorical, but it is also practical. Once a person has lived the alternative, the old pattern can feel not merely inconvenient but unacceptable.
Her story lands at a moment when conversations about burnout, mental health and sustainable careers are becoming harder to ignore in India. Younger professionals increasingly discuss the cost of constant availability. Some are choosing different career paths, different cities, or different countries. Others are staying and trying to push for change from within. Kaur’s account does not offer policy prescriptions. It simply records what became possible once the expectation of endless availability was removed.
The difference is visible in small, concrete ways. The ability to cook a proper meal without rushing. The freedom to start a book and finish it. The chance to try a new hobby without calculating how it will fit around unpredictable work demands. These are not luxuries in the abstract. They are the ordinary texture of a life that is not entirely colonised by the office.
Kaur is careful to note that she still values her career. She speaks of loving the work itself. What she rejects is the idea that loving the work requires surrendering everything else. In her current environment, the two are not treated as opposites. Professional competence and personal time are allowed to coexist.
For many watching her video, that possibility is the real revelation. It is one thing to hear abstract talk about work-life balance. It is another to hear a peer describe a concrete daily routine in which the phone stays silent after 5:30 and weekends belong to the individual rather than the firm. Once that image takes hold, returning to a culture that treats the opposite as normal becomes harder to justify.
Kaur’s final question remains the most pointed. After two years of living a professional life that ends when the working day ends, why would anyone willingly go back to a system that demands the opposite? For her, the answer is clear. She has no intention of returning to that version of corporate or litigation culture. The experience in London has, in her own words, ruined her for it. And she appears entirely at peace with that outcome.
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