I first started up in 1999. Except that I didn’t know about it. Let me explain.

I became an entrepreneur in 1999 when I (along with five friends) co-founded India’s first ecommerce company, Fabmart, later rebranded as Indiaplaza. In 2002, we also co-founded a supermarket chain, Fabmall, subsequently acquired by Aditya Birla Retail a few years later and rebranded as More Supermarkets.

Strangely, no one complimented us for having started up. Sure, they were happy we went into business, willing to risk a secure career for the uncertainties of entrepreneurship. But, no one wished our start-up good luck. Did the word ‘start-up’ even exist back then?

In other words, when did folks literally start up?

The word ‘start-up’ first came into being sometime in the 13th century to indicate a sense of “rise up”. By the 16th century it meant “to come suddenly into being” and was also juxtaposed with the anagram “upstart”, something that’s perfectly in line with the business model disruptions young entrepreneurs try to create.

India, though, played out differently. When we started our business we were starting up figuratively, but it was only in the mid-2000s that entrepreneurs could start-up literally. Perhaps it’s a reflection of India’s transforming social mores — from the longed for security of a government job to the thrill of starting up right after college (or even before!). I am glad I experienced this transition, which brings me to the story of how I got “permission” to become an entrepreneur.

My father was an Indian Railways employee, my mother managed the home, and we had no family assets. I couldn’t fulfil my mother’s dream of landing a government job and, to her horror, started out as a sales representative in Chennai with a Delhi-based “private company”, for a monthly salary of ₹970. Four years at the Murugappa group followed, and a decade selling computer hardware at Wipro. My Wipro career was steady, if not spectacular, and there was no reason to change anything. So, when I decided to quit and get into business, it was my wife’s turn to be horrified.

She had one condition — I had to put a down payment on a small flat within walking distance of our six-year-old son’s school.

Years later, when things went horribly wrong in our business and my income stopped, it was this small apartment which provided a roof over our heads. We have since moved to another place nearby but, whenever I pass by this old apartment, I say to myself, “This is where I started up before I knew I was starting up.”

(The writer is a serial entrepreneur and best-selling author of the book ‘Failing to Succeed’; he tweets @vaitheek)