Sitting in my 1RK rented flat in Mumbai's distant suburbs, I often wonder if moving from Indore was worth it. Back home, Papa's kiryana store provided a modest but stable income. Here, my startup salary of ₹55,000 sounds impressive to relatives but barely covers Mumbai's expensive life.

The breaking point came last month when our startup announced "restructuring." Five of my colleagues lost their jobs. That night, I calculated my runway – with my current savings, I could survive three months, maximum. The EMIs for my education loan (₹12,000) and the money I send home (₹15,000) leave little room for emergency funds.

In Indore, everyone knows everyone. If you need help, the community supports you. In Mumbai, my only safety net is my reducing bank balance. My roommate suggested moving back home, but the thought of returning as a "failure" terrifies me more than bankruptcy.

The startups I interview with all talk about ESOPs and future valuations, but I've learned that promised wealth isn't the same as food on the table. My parents don't understand startup culture; they keep asking why I left a "stable" IT job for this uncertainty. Sometimes, I wonder the same.

The constant anxiety affects everything – I've stopped eating out, switched to local trains from Uber, and cancelled my gym membership. Every expense feels like a step closer to financial ruin. The six-month emergency fund that financial advisors recommend feels like a distant dream.

Yesterday, a school friend mentioned his father's shop is available for rent in Indore. Ten years ago, I would have dismissed the idea of running a store. Now, I find myself calculating potential profits from a small business in a tier-2 city. Maybe stability isn't such a bad thing after all.