Workaholism is killing us: The tragic case of Anna Sebastian Perayil

When machines first entered the workplace, people feared they would erode human empathy, reducing workers to mere cogs in a productivity-driven wheel. But today, it’s not the machines that are stripping us of our humanity—it’s the companies themselves. In the relentless pursuit of performance, organisations are fostering cultures where empathy is a liability, and workaholism is a badge of honour.

Anna Sebastian Perayil’s tragic death at Ernst & Young (EY) is a glaring example of this toxic work culture. Barely six months into her job, this young chartered accountant from Kerala succumbed to the stress of a job that demanded more than she could give. Her mother, Anita Augustine, now grieves not just for her daughter’s loss, but for the inhumane corporate machine that devoured her in silence.

In an open letter to EY Chairman Rajiv Memani, Augustine doesn’t mince words. She condemns EY’s deification of workaholism, where working oneself to the bone isn’t just expected—it’s glorified. The company’s lofty commitments to human rights? They’re nothing but corporate window dressing, as evidenced by the harrowing experience Anna endured, overwhelmed and unable to say ‘no’ to the impossible demands of her job.

And this isn’t just an isolated case. It’s the symptom of a much larger, deeply entrenched problem—a culture that thrives on exhaustion, where managers, under their own pressures, perpetuate a vicious cycle of overwork and emotional neglect. The workplace has become the new frontier for bullying, masked as training and development, where the weak are exploited and the ambitious are sacrificed.

We’ve banned hazing in educational institutions, yet in many workplaces, a subtler and more insidious form of abuse persists. Fresh hires are treated as expendable, overwhelmed with unreasonable workloads, isolated from their support systems, and left to navigate toxic environments with no lifeline. Meanwhile, leaders—those who should be protecting and nurturing talent—sit back and watch, as if the exploitation is some necessary rite of passage.

Let’s make something clear: there is a difference between managing and bullying. The job of a manager is to guide, mentor, and lead by example—not to break spirits under the pretence of ‘toughening them up’. True leadership is about fostering growth, not fostering fear. Yet, in too many workplaces, hard-driving managers are celebrated for their ruthlessness, while those who prioritise humanity and work-life balance are dismissed as weak.

This culture of unchecked workaholism has metastasised across industries. Young professionals are pushed beyond their limits under the guise of preparing them for the ‘real world’. Weeks turn into months of relentless work, without a break, while employers applaud the endless grind and turn a blind eye to the human toll. Burnout is praised as commitment, and suffering is seen as strength.

So where is HR in all of this? In too many cases, they are silent accomplices, conveniently ‘unaware’ of the toxic cultures festering under their noses. They claim ignorance, insisting that no one has officially complained, as if waiting for a formal report somehow absolves them of responsibility. But here’s the truth: HR’s job isn’t to wait for things to go wrong—it’s to prevent them from going wrong in the first place. It’s HR’s duty to audit workplace practices, to identify where the system is broken, and to take action before lives are lost.

The case of Anna Sebastian Perayil should never have happened. But her death is far from unique. For every Anna, there are countless others, overworked and undervalued, quietly suffering in the shadows of corporate ambition. Some will speak up—many will not. And while HR turns a blind eye and management stays locked in its echo chamber, toxic work cultures continue to thrive.

The solution is simple, yet radical in its simplicity: stop celebrating exhaustion. Stop rewarding those who stay late and send midnight emails. Start recognising the people who leave on time, who have boundaries, who know the value of rest. They are the real high-performers—the ones who have the courage to resist the seductive pull of the burnout culture.

This isn’t just an HR issue. This is a leadership crisis. Those at the helm of companies have forgotten their primary responsibility—to protect and support their people. If HR has become too cozy with business, it’s because they’ve abandoned their roots. The profession was born out of a need to protect workers’ welfare. How far we’ve strayed from that mission.

Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of Anna’s death is EY’s deafening silence. Despite the outcry, despite the public attention, the company has issued no statement, no apology. They have shown no humanity, no empathy—not even a whisper of remorse. It’s a stunning display of corporate arrogance. Rajiv Memani, who should be leading the charge for reform, has instead chosen to retreat into the shadows, altering his LinkedIn settings to avoid accountability. Is this the kind of leadership we now expect from the so-called best employers?

Let’s be clear: this won’t be the last tragedy. Anna’s death will eventually be forgotten, replaced by the next headline, the next victim of corporate neglect. A young man or woman will join a prestigious firm, bright-eyed and full of ambition, only to find themselves caught in the same vicious cycle of overwork and disillusionment.

So, what’s the real takeaway here? No ‘Great Employer’ award or flashy slogan can mask a culture of exploitation. Unless companies wake up and confront the toxic environments they’ve created, they will continue to fail their employees in the worst possible way.

At the end of the day, there’s more to life than productivity. A successful business isn’t built on the bodies of the overworked and the broken. It’s built on respect, empathy, and the understanding that there is life beyond the spreadsheet. It’s time we remember that. Let Anna’s death not be in vain.