In the legal profession, everything is designed around continuity. Billable hours, moving targets, revenue streams, and clients who expect immediate responses. The pressure to always be available is woven into the DNA of the profession, and stepping away, even briefly, feels like breaking rhythm, as if stillness itself is a threat to credibility.
Lawyers learn early that success is measured by visibility, responsiveness, and output. Rest, when it comes, is either accidental or forced. Over time, even the most driven professionals start to wonder if the pace they’re sustaining is the same one they can survive.
A sabbatical, in theory, should address exactly that by offering space to recharge, reorient, and return with clarity. But in practice, within Indian law firms, it rarely works that way. Most sabbaticals are unpaid and ad hoc, negotiated quietly without formal policy. Sometimes even when a firm commits to a defined period, lawyers are called back early, undermining the very purpose of the break. Despite the odds, when a lawyer does take time off, the career cost is often steep. They come back to being left out of promotion cycles, losing active matters, or sitting at a quieter desk. The break is not viewed as renewal; it is viewed as loss. The attorney ultimately pays the price of simply not being around.
This makes the concept itself regressive. Lawyers hesitate to pause because taking time off comes with penalties and interrupted progress. In a profession that prides itself on structure, the absence of a structured approach to rest is striking. Those who do step back are forced to risk hard-earned ground. It’s not that firms intentionally punish the break, but the message that often lands is that true commitment means never stepping away.
From the firm’s point of view, the concern is to ensure continuity in a fiercely competitive and unforgiving market. Clients expect stability, and partners genuinely worry about losing valued clients if a key lawyer steps away. In that environment, a sabbatical feels like a risk the institution cannot easily absorb.
Yet, the need for recalibration has never been greater. The intensity of today’s practice, cross-border clients, round-the-clock access, blurred boundaries between personal and professional time have changed what it means to be “available.” Burnout has moved from being a whispered topic to a visible pattern, but solutions remain performative.
If we acknowledge the firm’s perspective too, then there is room to redesign sabbaticals. They don’t need to be unplanned absences, they can be approached deliberately, timed with business cycles, partially supported, and integrated into evaluation systems so that absence does not equal disqualification. Elevation should be based on capability and long-term contribution, not continuous visibility. The lawyers who pause often return with sharper judgment, clearer priorities, renewed ambition and an energy that becomes contagious. Even if someone doesn’t return, the sabbatical simply surfaced a truth sooner. Clarity benefits both sides more than late-stage exhaustion and disengagement.
The courage to take a break should not come at the cost of one’s standing. Nor should a sabbatical be treated as a personal indulgence. It is a professional necessity in a field that runs on sustained mental and emotional energy. The question is not whether lawyers can afford to take a sabbatical, but whether the profession can afford to keep ignoring why they need one.
About the author: Samta Thapa is the co-founder and partner of Agragami Consulting a specialised talent search and advisory firm that works closely with law firm leadership and legal in-house teams on hiring, growth, and talent strategy.
Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s). The opinions presented do not necessarily reflect the views of Bar & Bench.
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