Dr. Mansi S. Rai
At times, people assume that being an NRI is easy. They see foreign degrees, global cities, and professional titles—and conclude that life abroad must be smoother, more comfortable, more secure. What is rarely seen is the invisible cost behind that mobility: the uncertainty, the pressure, and the responsibility of representing not just oneself, but two systems at once.
I was born in Noida, India, into a family where public service is not a slogan but a daily practice. Both of my parents continue to serve the State of New Delhi, and growing up, I learned early that accountability rarely comes with recognition. In our home, discipline was expected, integrity was quiet, and service was understood as a long-term commitment rather than a personal achievement.
I completed my schooling at Kendriya Vidyalaya, Noida, where structure and consistency mattered more than display.
I later earned a Bachelor of Business Administration (BBA) from BIT Noida and chose to begin my career in the private sector. Like many young professionals, I believed in building technical competence and independence before seeking broader responsibility.
After completing my BBA, I decided to leave New Delhi and pursue my MBA at GITAM University in Visakhapatnam, often called the City of Destiny. At the time, I did not fully understand what destiny meant. I only knew that remaining static was no longer an option. Moving to Vizag marked my first deliberate choice to prioritize growth over familiarity. Destiny, I learned, was not something to wait for—it was something shaped through action.
After my MBA, I came back in New Delhi and started living again with my parents, working and building my early career. On paper, everything appeared stable.
Following graduation, I worked in the private sector with two American-origin companies, gaining exposure to corporate finance, compliance, and operational systems. These roles were important—not just professionally, but economically. International professionals contribute directly to productivity, innovation, and tax bases, long before questions of permanence are ever resolved.
In 2023, I was navigating a deeply difficult personal period—one that forced me to confront questions of identity, self-worth, and direction far earlier than I had expected. There came a point when life felt profoundly misaligned. Not because of failure, what ultimately carried me forward was clarity—the realization that my life required direction, not endurance.
When I left India, there was no dramatic farewell. My parents did not accompany me. Not because they lacked care, but because sometimes it’s okay to say goodbye before. I boarded my flight alone.
By the time I reached London for my connecting flight, it was delayed. I spent the night on the airport floor with $1,300 in my account—money meant to last until I could find work in a country whose systems I did not yet understand. That moment is not exceptional. It is an unspoken starting point for many international students who later become NRIs.
This is the part rarely discussed when people say, “NRIs have it easy.”
I enrolled at the Simon Business School, University of Rochester, specializing in accounting and finance. Like many international students, I learned quickly that the classroom is only part of the education. The rest is survival: immigration compliance, financial constraints, cultural adjustment, and the constant awareness that one administrative error can undo years of effort.
My first job in America began at 6:00 a.m. at Starbucks. I arrived by 5:30 each morning, walking through Rochester’s winter darkness. I cooked every meal to manage costs, worked between classes, and studied under persistent uncertainty. Some semesters, my grades reflected that reality—not because of lack of ability, but because I did not have the luxury of being only a student.
At the same time, I took on leadership roles during my academic years, serving as Vice President of Events and later as President of the Accounting Society. Leadership for international students is different. There is no margin for error and no safety net. Failure is never just personal—it affects visas, families, and futures.
Eventually, I faced a choice familiar to many international professionals: continue pursuing private-sector growth or align my work more directly with public purpose.
I chose public service.
I qualified through a merit-based competitive examination and eligibility process and entered service with the New York State Department of Taxation & Finance. My role involves tax administration, audit support, public finance analysis, and regulatory compliance within U.S. state government frameworks. I was trusted with responsibility, evaluated on performance, and treated as someone worth investing in.
This decision carries significance beyond my individual story.
When international professionals serve in public institutions, they embody trust between nations. They bring comparative perspective, institutional discipline, and a deep understanding of how policy affects real lives across borders. They are not just workers—they are bridges between systems. And yet, the broader reality remains complex. International professionals often live in a paradox: qualified enough to be hired, trusted enough to serve, but never entirely certain of continuity. One system recognizes contribution; another keeps permanence conditional.
From a macroeconomic perspective, this matter. Countries invest heavily in educating international students, integrating them into labor markets, and entrusting them with responsibility. When continuity is uncertain, the cost is not only personal—it is institutional. Talent pipelines weaken. Public-sector knowledge is lost. Trust takes longer to rebuild.
Still, I chose purpose over prestige.
During my interview process with New York State, one panelist said something I will never forget: “We might not be the right fit for her. But for us, she is exactly what we need.”
That moment was not about validation. It was about alignment.
Today, when I reflect on my journey, I often think of two symbols that guided me through moments of uncertainty: the eagle of America, representing vision and elevation, and the lotus of India, representing resilience and renewal. Between the two, I learned that destiny is not a fixed outcome. It is a series of deliberate choices, made quietly and often without guarantees.
I did not come to the United States to chase the American Dream.
I came to continue a legacy of service, discipline, and accountability—shaped in India and carried forward in New York.
I did not leave India to abandon its values. I carried them forward.
If someone can be born in Noida, educated in Kendriya Vidyalaya, shaped by parents who continue to serve the public, trained in Indian institutions, tested in global markets, and entrusted with responsibility in foreign public systems—then the narrative around NRIs must be viewed not through ease, but through contribution.
NRIs are not temporary actors.
They are not economic abstractions. They are extensions of India’s institutional credibility abroad.
And when they serve well, they strengthen trust—not only between systems, but between nations.
Dr. Mansi S. Rai is a public finance professional serving with the New York State Government, where she works in taxation and audit-related functions following qualification through a merit-based competitive examination. Her responsibilities involve tax administration, public finance analysis, regulatory compliance, and institutional accountability within U.S. state government frameworks.
