In the buzzing open-plan offices of modern India, love sometimes sneaks in by the elevator shaft and takes the quick-coffee route. Imagine two colleagues in Mumbai—call them Raj and Priya—exchanging glances across the boardroom, their connection growing during the endless project presentations and late-night work calls. It might sound like reel-life, but for many Indians it is real life: fresh data shows around 40% of Indian adults say they’ve dated or are currently dating a colleague. The headline in Hindi might read: “pyaar ka office kaam se mil gaya” (love at the workplace has met work).
In a study from Ashley Madison and YouGov (Global Dating Insights), India ranks second globally after Mexico for workplace romances. The survey further notes a noticeable gender gap: 51% of men said they had dated a coworker, compared with 36% of women. And while the corporate halls may be getting more formalised, many relationships continue to blossom—often under the radar, often in the margins of lunch breaks, elevators and project deadlines.
Yet the cultural backdrop in India adds layers of complexity. The idea of “office romance” (karyalaya prem) is still wrapped in social mores of dignity, honour, and parivaar (family). For many professionals, especially women, engaging in a workplace affair must also shade into considerations about reputation, social judgement and career risk. One recent corporate policy in India made headlines: a company reportedly introduced a zero-tolerance policy—immediate termination if a person dated someone in their chain of command. Such policies reflect the collision of modern workplace liberties with traditional expectations of how relationships “should” behave, especially in multi-generational cultures where the line between professional and personal is often blurred.
From a sociological angle, why do so many Indians end up in office affairs? Some analysts point to the phenomenon of long work hours, shared projects, night shifts and a sense of togetherness in high-pressure jobs. In urban India where landline-to-WhatsApp is the normal mode of communication, colleagues become confidants, project-partners become “buddies” in the canteen—and sometimes, lovers. Moreover the relative newness of mass professionalisation (many first-generation white-collar workers) means that older social barriers (caste, village ties, family arranged-match constraints) are slowly being replaced with peer-based bonding at work.
At the same time, legal considerations loom. The Sexual Harassment of Women at Workplace (Prevention, Prohibition and Redressal) Act, 2013 (commonly POSH Act) sets out employer obligations to prevent harassment and maintain decorum. With workplace relationships, companies must navigate tricky terrain: when does consensual dating become a professional hazard? When does the boundary between informal bonding and harassment blur? Organisations now issue guidance, implement “declare relationships” policies, maintain HR-compliance structures, and train managers to recognise risks of power imbalance, favoritism and reputational damage within the office.
In Indian corporate culture, something else quietly shifts: the workplace is not just a professional space but a social habitat. As one outsider observed in Bengaluru, Indian office culture is infused with festival celebrations, informal chai (tea) conversations, friendly check-ins (“Did you eat?”) and a blurring of the work-life divide. In this environment, affairs at work (chuppa-chuppi prem) are both natural and complicated. Natural because human connection blossoms when proximity, shared goals and vulnerability coincide; complicated because each relationship carries the burden of traditional expectations (arranged marriages, family approval) and employer codes of conduct.
For the individuals involved, the stakes are high. A successful pairing can mean lifelong companionship, but workplace affairs also risk job status, team dynamics and career progression. In India the social cost is non-negligible: an exposed affair might invite gossip (“unka affair hai”), family disapproval (“hamari beti…”), or worse, allegations of harassment. Companies in India have had to temper the romance narrative with strict policies: one firm expects employees in romantic relationships to declare them and prohibits relations in hierarchy chains, emphasizing transparency and trust.
Still, the narrative of love at work persists, and not always in taboo shadows. Younger professionals increasingly view the possibility of meeting a partner at work not as scandalous but as inevitable. In a society where changing jobs often means changing cities, careers and social circles, the workplace offers a stable micro-community ripe for emotional connection. The term “sangharsh ke saathi” (fellow-companions in struggle) might aptly describe two colleagues collaborating on the same deadline and discovering something more.
In sum, affairs in the workplace in India sit at the intersection of evolving work cultures, traditional social mores and individual emotional lives. The open-office desk may now host not just spreadsheets and Zoom calls, but whispered confessions and shared laughter after late-night slog. Navigating this terrain demands sensitivity—professional policies on one hand, human desire on the other—and in between lies the messy, beautiful, chaotic domain of office prem (office love).
My darlings, gather around—Spicy Auntie has opinions. Yes, office romance! Office prem! The scandal, the thrill, the tingle during the Monday morning briefing. In India—and let’s be honest, across Asia—we’re all pretending to be shocked, but inside we’re cheering like it’s the finale of a masala drama. Because who among us hasn’t exchanged a slightly-too-long glance over a stack of paperwork or felt that little flutter during a late-night project marathon? Humanity didn’t check out at the biometric attendance machine, okay?
Let Spicy Auntie be perfectly clear: romance at work is not a crime. Two consenting adults finding comfort in each other while navigating deadlines, bosses and endless Google Sheets? Entirely natural. If anything, I applaud the courage. It’s like finding a flower blooming in the middle of an Excel desert. But here comes the big BUT—and no, not the one you’re secretly admiring: no pressure, no hierarchy, no coercion. If your “romance” depends on who signs whose performance review, that’s not pyaar, that’s a power imbalance dressed in cheap perfume. And Auntie will personally hand you a POSH Act handbook and a lecture you won’t forget.
Across Asia, there is this cultural obsession with izzat (honor), sharam (shame) and keeping your private life as spotless as your HR file. So we end up treating office romance like contraband. Why? Because the aunties and uncles—the annoying ones, not me—think that every smile between colleagues is a gateway to immorality, pregnancy and societal collapse. Calm down, people. Two adults having coffee is not the end of civilization.
What I want is simple: discretion, not repression. Be grown-ups. Don’t flirt loudly in the hallway like you’re auditioning for a soap opera. Don’t make your entire team uncomfortable. And for the love of chai, don’t drag your colleagues into your melodrama. If it’s love, cherish it quietly. If it’s just timepass, keep your exit plans tidy.
And to the companies—oh yes, Auntie has words for you: stay out of the bedroom. Declaring love shouldn’t require submitting Form 28B to HR. Punishing consenting adults for dating? Absurd. Enforcing “relationship disclosure policies” like you’re running moral police? Even more absurd. Your job is to prevent harassment, not romance.
In the grand tapestry of Asian workplaces, love is going to happen—messy, joyful, unexpected. Celebrate it. Respect it. Protect it from abuse. And remember: Auntie says yes to passion, no to power games, and absolutely no to HR surveillance of your heart.