Why I Call Myself “The Lost Mumbaikar”

The Question Everyone Asks

People often ask me, “You write so much about Rajasthan and Kerala and travel the world, so why is your website called The Lost Mumbaikar?”
Here is the story behind that name. It is a journey that began in Mumbai, passed through small towns, deserts, and skyscrapers, and eventually found a new home in Dubai.

 

Early Ambition and the First Taste of the Road

After completing my engineering in Kota, Rajasthan, my ambition was simple: find a job, earn a living, and stop being a burden on my father. My younger brother was still studying, and financial independence wasn’t just a goal, it was a responsibility. The early 2000s, however, were overshadowed by the aftermath of the dot-com crash, and opportunities were scarce. My first break finally came in Noida with a company that manufactured telephone billing systems. As a sales executive, I travelled extensively across Uttar Pradesh, meeting distributors, spending countless hours on trains, and surviving on station samosas, hotel tea, and pure ambition.
Looking back, that job gave me much more than a salary. It gave me confidence, resilience, and my first real taste of life on the road.
Weekends became my escape. Borrowing my roommate’s motorcycle, we would ride into the hills of Uttarakhand, then still part of Uttar Pradesh. Sometimes those rides were with friends, and sometimes they were completely solo. There were no itineraries, no bucket lists, and certainly no social media waiting for photographs. It was simply the joy of following an open road, stopping wherever curiosity led, and discovering places that never appeared in guidebooks.
I didn’t realise it then, but those spontaneous rides planted the first seeds of what would eventually become “The Lost Mumbaikar”. Long before blogging, passport stamps, or journeys across more than 90 countries, the road had already begun teaching me its greatest lesson: sometimes the destination is only an excuse, the real adventure lies in the journey itself.

A One-Way Ticket to Mumbai

With a modest salary but dreams far bigger than my bank balance, I was constantly searching for better opportunities. That opportunity finally arrived when a Hyderabad-based engineering company interviewed me in Delhi and offered me a position in Mumbai. The role matched my engineering background, and the salary was almost double what I was earning in Noida.
My father wasn’t convinced. To him, Mumbai was a city of crime, uncertainty, and struggle. To me, it was the city of dreams, Bollywood, Marine Drive, midnight vada pav, and endless possibilities. In 2002, carrying more ambition than luggage, I boarded a train to Mumbai, unaware that I wasn’t just changing cities, I was stepping into the chapter that would shape the rest of my life.

Making It in the Toughest City

Mumbai was exactly as everyone described it; fast, loud, unforgiving, and endlessly competitive. Everything Bollywood had shown me existed, only on a much bigger scale. The city demanded hard work, rewarded persistence, and taught resilience every single day. I embraced the challenge, changed jobs strategically, kept learning, and slowly watched my career move in the right direction.
Those years also introduced me to India’s incredible regional food, not because I was a foodie, but because I was working hard and always looking for affordable places to eat. Whether I was grabbing a vada pav from a tiny stall in Mumbai, enjoying a fiery misal pav in Pune, or ending a long day of meetings with pav bhaji, every business trip became another opportunity to discover authentic local flavours without spending much. Looking back, some of the best street food recommendations, I share today were found during those work trips not as a tourist, but as someone constantly living out of a suitcase, searching for honest, delicious, and budget-friendly meals.
One evening in 2005, while enjoying a few drinks with friends, I confidently declared that one day I would own a flat in Mumbai. They burst into laughter and joked that the alcohol had done the talking. Buying a home in Mumbai on my salary seemed impossible. Two years later, those very friends stood quietly in my living room during my housewarming. That apartment was never just bricks and concrete. It represented every late night, every sacrifice, every calculated risk, and every dream that refused to give up. In one of the world’s toughest cities, it felt like winning a personal Everest.

The Lost Mumbaikar Says:
“Big dreams usually sound impossible to everyone except the person willing to work for them. Believe first, work harder, and let life surprise you”.

Life at 30,000 Feet

As my career progressed, I eventually managed India operations for Ingersoll Rand, a Fortune 500 American company. Airports slowly replaced railway stations, boarding passes became routine, and work took me across Delhi, Bengaluru, Chennai, Hyderabad, Kolkata, Pune, Ahmedabad, and, thankfully, Goa which soon became my favourite business destination and a place I always looked forward to visiting.
My first flight, on 8 May 2005 from Delhi to Mumbai, remains one of the most emotional moments of my life. A close friend jokingly told me, “Are you seeing aircraft first time, re??? We both laughed, but as the aircraft lifted off the runway, I found myself looking out of the window with emotions I had never experienced before. It wasn’t just my first flight, it was proof that a boy who had grown up dreaming beyond the horizon was finally beginning to see the world from above.
By 2009, flying had become so frequent that friends joked I spent more time in airports than at home. If Up in the Air were ever remade, I could probably have auditioned for George Clooney’s role perhaps with a little less charm, but definitely with the same collection of boarding passes.

When Mumbai Fell Silent and Life Took Me Abroad

Then came 26 November 2008. My wife and I sat frozen in front of the television as the 26/11 Mumbai terror attacks unfolded. Leopold Café, Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (CST), the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel, and the Gateway of India, places that had become part of my everyday life were suddenly at the centre of one of India’s darkest chapters. Watching the city that had given me my career, confidence, and identity come under attack felt deeply personal. Mumbai wasn’t just where I lived; by then, it had become a part of who I was.
A few months later, life offered an unexpected opportunity. A job in Doha, Qatar, arrived at just the right time, opening the door to my first experience of expat life in the Middle East. On 14 February 2009, I boarded my first international flight to Doha. Like millions of Indians who leave home in search of better opportunities, my own expat journey had begun.
Living in Qatar transformed both my career and my personal life. It was there that Julius learned to speak, Jordan was born, and we started building our life as a family. Yet Mumbai never stopped calling me back.
Every visit to Marine Drive, Leopold Café, or CST felt like reconnecting with an old friend. Then, during a holiday in 2010, I discovered Dubai as a tourist. The city’s ambition, energy, and global outlook immediately resonated with me. In early 2012, I moved from Qatar to Dubai, beginning another remarkable chapter. Today, after more than a decade of living in Dubai, the city has given me stability, lifelong friendships, professional growth, and the fulfilment of another dream, owning my home in Cayan Tower, Dubai Marina.

 

Why “The Lost Mumbaikar”

So here’s the truth. I may live in Dubai, but a part of me will always belong to Mumbai.
Technically, I am no longer a Mumbaikar, and that is exactly why the name “The Lost Mumbaikar” feels right.
Mumbai didn’t just give me my first real opportunity. It shaped the person, I became. It taught me resilience when life was uncertain, ambition when dreams seemed impossible, adaptability in the face of constant change, and the confidence to keep moving forward when others would have given up. It gave me my career, my first home, my marriage, my first child, lifelong friendships, and a mindset that has travelled with me across more than 90 countries.
Everything I have achieved since from an international career and road trips across continents to a life as an Indian expat in Dubai can be traced back to the opportunity, I received in Mumbai and the lessons the city quietly taught me along the way.
That is why “lost” does not mean confused or directionless. It means carrying the spirit of Mumbai wherever life takes me. It means nostalgia, gratitude, and remembering the city that gave me wings. The address may have changed from Mumbai to Dubai, but the identity never did.
I may have left Mumbai.
But Mumbai never left me.
Once a Mumbaikar, always a Mumbaikar.

 

Your Turn:

• Has a city ever changed the course of your life? If so, which one—and what did it teach you?
• If you had to describe yourself using the name of a place that shaped you, what would it be and why?
• Looking back, which journey, city, or chapter of your life made you the person you are today? I’d love to hear your story.