Mumbai is the loneliest city I’ve lived in, but it’s also where I’ve grown the most

Moving to Mumbai had always been on my mind. Growing up in Meerut, a relatively quiet city, I felt drawn to the idea of something bigger, and Mumbai seemed to embody that dream. From the outside, it looks like a hub of creativity that holds an irresistible pull for aspiring storytellers like myself. While I was living in the landlocked Gurugram-Delhi-Noida trifecta for most of my adult life, I couldn’t ignore Mumbai’s magnetic force. I felt that if you wanted to learn something substantial in the media field, you had to dip your toes in this city.

Let me be clear: I’ve never held a romanticised view of Mumbai. Back in college, a close friend who was into filmmaking moved to the city, only to return within two weeks, disillusioned and defeated. He complained about the lack of space and the relentless hustle. Other friends who made the move barely scraped by and often returned to Meerut for some respite. Despite warnings about the city’s high cost of living, cramped accommodations, and the unrelenting monsoon, the idea of Mumbai stayed with me, like an itch I couldn’t quite scratch. Something about the city’s raw energy and chaotic rhythm intrigued me.

In 2021, I had my first real glimpse of Mumbai as a content head for a shoot. We went to Film City, and I found the city’s fast-paced energy infectious. I thought, “Why not give moving here a shot? Just as an experiment.” I wasn’t even sure if I was good with change—I’d never tested that part of myself. But I knew it was time for a shift, both in my career and in my life. And so, in 2023, at the age of 26, I decided to move to Mumbai to start working as a video producer. In a way, this relocation felt like a personal test as for most of my life, I’d been living a stone’s throw away from my family and my safety net.

When I finally landed in Mumbai, my first day was quite lovely. I went straight to Juhu beach, a cliché, perhaps, but a welcome change for landlocked North Indians. Watching the carefree play of children, the collective revelry and joy—it felt surreal to have finally made it here. Yet, the euphoria of day one quickly dissipated as the harsh reality of house hunting set in, like a sudden downpour on a sunny day.

If you’re planning to move to Mumbai, brace yourself: house hunting here is a beast. Brokers and property managers here are relentless, constantly calling and pushing you to see more places, which was a shock to me after the more laid-back attitude found in the North. On one day, I viewed seven to eight apartments in a row. The process was exhausting and discouraging, but I navigated it as best as I could.

Finally, a friend suggested I opt for a PG (paying guest accommodation) as a temporary solution. I found one right behind my hotel, but living there brought its own set of challenges. Soon after moving in, the roof of my room collapsed. That was the moment it hit me—I was in a city with no friends, no family, and no one to call in an emergency. It was terrifying. For the first time, I felt completely alone. Thankfully, the other girls in the PG were helpful. As we moved our belongings into another room, amidst the fear and relief, another epiphany emerged: This city is tough, and having good people around you is crucial for survival.

The weather added to my woes. My first Mumbai monsoon was every bit as depressing and gloomy as I had anticipated. I craved sunshine and vitamin D to combat the loneliness that seemed to wrap around me like a wet blanket. August was particularly hard—I buried myself in work during the week, but Sundays were crushing. My roommate was busy with college assignments, leaving me to my own devices. To avoid feeling like I wasn’t making the most of the city, I started going out by myself. I’d catch a movie or explore random parts of the city—Bandstand, Marine Drive, or even just a random café in Bandra. But the loneliness followed me everywhere, lurking like a shadow.

Now, over a year later, Mumbai has transformed me. My social life here is more hectic than it ever was in Meerut, but it’s also more fragile. Friendships in this city can feel transactional. I became close friends with a girl I met at my PG, but after she found a new group, she ghosted me without a word.

I tried forming connections outside the PG as well. I reached out to everyone I knew in the city, frequently attending house parties to meet new people. I joined a Toastmasters club, but the fees were too steep. I even tried Bumble’s friend feature, but no lasting friendships blossomed. Despite the setbacks, I kept trying.

Even as I filled my calendar, the loneliness lingered, a constant undercurrent. While my social situation had changed, the city’s fast pace leaves little room for deep connections. I’ve learned to cope by focusing on strengthening myself and learning to be my own anchor. Living here has also made me less fearful of challenges. I’ve become adept at handling things on my own, but the solitude still stings. Sometimes, when I return to my empty flat, I wish the lights were on, and my mom was there to greet me.

Mumbai forces you to grow up fast. What might be an insurmountable problem elsewhere feels like a minor inconvenience here. In this city, you need to be prepared for anything—monsoon floods, power cuts, or the constant hum of chaos. I’ve learned to take initiative and get things done without waiting for guidance or support. I still feel lonely sometimes, but I’ve built connections and found my rhythm, choosing to surround myself with a dynamic group of people who keep life interesting.

For anyone considering moving to Mumbai, I’d say keep an open mind. Survival here demands flexibility—being too set in your ways won’t work. I’d heard fellow North Indians say, “yahan ke log sirf kaam se kaam rakhte hai aur kuch nahin (people here only focus on their work and nothing else)”. But you need to experience the city for yourself. People here are kind, even if they seem perpetually rushed. A stranger will still pause to compliment you on your eye makeup in a way that feels genuine, not creepy.

Mumbai is the loneliest city I’ve ever lived in, but it’s also where I’ve grown the most. I’ve learned to accept both the vibrant and the chaotic sides of the city, and strangely, the maximalism makes it feel like home. And when the loneliness becomes too much, I know I can always find solace on the beach, where the waves remind me that I’m not alone. This city has taught me that, in the end, you have to be your own friend, support system, and cheerleader—because that’s how you survive, and eventually, thrive.

As told to Sara Hussain.