When: The Scientific Secrets of Perfect Timing

by Daniel H. Pink

But in one dimension, they have no leeway at all: time. Indian business culture typically schedules lunch between 1 p.m. and 2 p.m. That means the dabbawalas must make all their deliveries by 12:45 p.m. And that means Adhav’s team must board the 10:51 a.m. train from the Vile Parle station. Miss that train and the entire schedule crumbles. For the walas, the railway schedule is the boss—the external standard that sets the rhythm, pace, and tempo of their work, the force that imposes discipline on what could otherwise be chaos. It is the unassailable despot, the czarist zeitgeber whose authority is unquestioned and whose rulings are final—an inanimate coxswain or chorus master. So on this Monday, as on all days, the dabbawalas arrive on the platform with several minutes to spare. As the overhead clock approaches 10:45, they all gather their bags, and before the train has even fully stopped, they clamber into its luggage compartment to ride into South Mumbai.