The Sun Rises Twice: The Eastern Burden of India Standard Time

India's Time Zone Anomaly and Its Hidden Costs

In India’s own history, the establishment of a cohesive time zone dates back to 1802, when British astronomer John Goldingham of the East India Company fixed Chennai’s longitude at 13°5’24”N, 80°18’30”E, making it five hours and thirty minutes ahead of GMT. This marked India’s first step toward standardised timekeeping. By 1884, with global time zones taking shape, India was designated two time zones: Bombay time, 4 hours and 51 minutes ahead of GMT, and Calcutta time, 5 hours, 30 minutes, and 20 seconds ahead of GMT.

However, in 1905, the British adopted a single time zone for India, based on the 82.5° E meridian in Mirzapur, Uttar Pradesh. Yet, Calcutta continued to maintain its own time zone until 1948, and Bombay until 1955, as traders found it difficult to adapt to Indian Standard Time (IST), with Bombay’s time being 38 minutes behind IST. It was only on September 1, 1947, following independence from British rule, that the Indian government officially established IST as the sole official time for the entire country, moving the central observatory from Chennai to a location near Mirzapur to align closely with UTC +5:30.

Despite India’s adherence to a single time zone—Indian Standard Time (IST), centered at 82.5° E in Mirzapur the policy creates a significant misalignment between clock time and natural daylight, especially in its easternmost regions. In the North Eastern states, the sun can rise as early as 4 a.m. and set by 3:30 p.m., whereas in Gujarat, sunrise may occur as late as 7 a.m., with daylight extending well beyond 7 p.m. This discrepancy leads to the loss of several valuable daylight hours in the East before conventional office and school timings even begin. The early onset of darkness during the winter months further exacerbates the issue, increasing reliance on artificial lighting and contributing to higher energy consumption.

In ancestral times, people rose and rested in alignment with the natural rhythm of the sun, using their body clocks to begin work early and retire by dusk. Today, however, in regions like the North East, students often start school much later than the sunrise. By the time they children return home from school, the daylight has already begun to fade, leaving them with limited time for outdoor activities, rest or recreation before nightfall. This disconnect between natural daylight and institutional schedules reflects a deeper misalignment between policy and lived experience.

This geographical incongruity carries profound social and economic implications. A 2019 Cornell University study, “Poor Sleep, Sunset Time and Human Capital Production,” found that children exposed to later sunsets tend to achieve fewer years of education and are less likely to complete primary and middle school. Sunset-induced sleep deprivation is especially acute among the economically disadvantaged, who often face poor sleep environments marked by noise, heat, overcrowding, and limited resources for restful sleep. The study estimated that the current time zone policy costs India approximately INR 29,000 crore (around $4.1 billion or 0.2% of nominal GDP) annually in human capital. Furthermore, poverty itself, with its associated stress and cognitive load, can compound these negative effects.

A Persistent Debate: Recommendations and Rejections

The debate over India's single time zone is not new. Historically, British India observed multiple time zones for Bombay, Calcutta, and Madras (now Chennai), before IST became the sole official time in 1947. Even today, an informal "tea time," one hour ahead of IST, is practiced in Assam's tea gardens to align work hours with daylight.

Over the decades, various proposals for multiple time zones have emerged:

I. In the late 1980s, researchers at a leading energy institute suggested a multi-time zone system for electricity conservation.

II. A government panel in 2002, however, dismissed a similar proposal, citing complexities and potential risks like railway accidents due to time resets at zone crossings.

III. The Planning Commission's Expert Committee Report on Integrated Energy Policy in 2006 and the Parliamentary Standing Committee in 2007 both recommended two time zones to save energy, particularly in the North Eastern states.

IV. More recently, in 2018, researchers at the CSIR-National Physical Laboratory (NPL) and National Institute of Advanced Studies (NIAS) proposed a demarcation line at 89.52°E, marking the border between West Bengal and Assam, arguing that an additional time zone (IST-II, UTC + 6:30 h) for the North East would synchronise daily routines with the diurnal cycle and lead to significant energy savings.

Despite these recommendations and the repeated raising of this issue by parliamentarians in nearly every session since 2002, the Union of India has not yet acted on implementing a second time zone. While committees in 2003 and 2011 acknowledged the disadvantages for eastern states, they suggested advancing office timings rather than a new time zone.

Legal Avenues

The push for a second time zone has also seen legal efforts. A petition regarding this issue was notably dismissed by the Guwahati High Courtin 2017, indicating that legal avenues have bee

n explored without success.

The argument for multiple time zones extends to fundamental rights. The right to life, enshrined in Article 21 of the Indian Constitution, implicitly includes the right to sleep, which the Supreme Court affirmed as essential for human existence and survival in Ramlila Maidan Incident Versus Home Secretary, Union of India (UOI) and Ors . The current time zone policy, by disrupting natural sleep cycles, particularly for the vulnerable, arguably infringes upon this fundamental right.

Addressing the “eastern burden” goes beyond merely adjusting clocks; it involves optimising daylight use, improving public health, enhancing productivity, and ensuring equitable living conditions across India’s vast landscape.

In the summer of 1974, a young Shashi Tharoor, now a Member of Parliament, spent his holidays at a tea estate near Jorhat, Assam, where he learned they followed “tea time,” hours ahead of Indian Standard Time. At first, this departure from the national clock seemed odd. But when the sun rises at 4 a.m. and sets well before evening, rigid adherence to IST begins to feel out of touch.

What started as an unsettling experience revealed a simple truth fitting a country spanning nearly 30 degrees of longitude into a single time zone is less about efficiency and more about inconvenience. Northeast follows the sun’s natural rhythm, while the official clock lags behind. In this part of the country, the sun rises twice once by nature, and once by the clock.

As the poet John Donne reminds us in ‘The Sun Rising’, there are places and moments like a child’s interrupted sleep or the soft dawns of the Eastern hills where time ought to be felt, not imposed.

Perhaps then, as we rethink the politics of the clock, it’s worth pausing with Donne’s word,

“Busy old fool, unruly Sun, Why dost thou thus,

Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?

Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?

...Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,

Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.”

Let the sun rise twice if it must. But let it rise right.

Keviyabei Angami

(The writer is an Advocate at the Supreme Court of India and a PG student (DIPR) at National Law School of Indian University (NLSIU), Bangalore)