Inside Indian cricketer Robin Uthappa's Dubai home and why his children will be 'global citizens'

Dubai: Former Indian cricketer Robin Uthappa’s wife, an ex-tennis player, greets me with an easy warmth as we step into their sprawling villa in Dubailand, Wadi Al Safa. The living room is gigantic, the kind of space where sunlight streams in generously, but nothing about it feels like a sterile space. A football lies in one corner, a mini trampoline leans by the window, and a few toys spill out near the couch — little reminders that this elegant villa is also a space where children run the show.

“Our kids go to a school with 20 nationalities, so the world itself becomes smaller in their classroom in Dubai,” Robin says, settling into an accent chair with his bare feet tucked in. His son and daughter, he explains, are thriving in this multicultural bubble where classmates come from every corner of the globe. Two years ago, he and his wife moved to Dubai from India not for showy reasons, but because they wanted their children to be “comfortable in their own skin in any part of the world… global citizens.”

Why Dubai works

Robin is pragmatic about why Dubai suits this chapter of his life. The city offers a balance he values deeply: “I won’t be dishonest and say that I don’t enjoy the attention back in India. I’m human. I enjoy the attention. But I also enjoy my privacy in Dubai.” That paradox — to be seen but not scrutinised — is Dubai’s quiet luxury.

But he also sees the flip side.

“If you don’t operate from empathy, then it is very easy to be superficial and live on the surface,” he says.

“A lot of people live that way — it’s about how much money you make, what car you drive, which watch you’re wearing. But that doesn’t define you. It’s who you are on the inside, the kind of relationships you build, the value you add to other people’s lives. That’s what matters to me.”

For Robin, Dubai is both a classroom for his children and a mirror for his own growth — a place that constantly tests whether you’ll stay on the surface or dig deeper.

From cricketer to coach

Robin doesn’t want to be boxed as just “the cricketer" either. He’s clear about what's next for him.

“I’ve slowly shed the identity of me being a cricketer right now… it’s been a couple of years since I’ve retired. I still do play cricket because I love the game, but I’ve moved to the coaching space.”

This isn’t about after-dinner coaching camps. He’s co-founded True, his own company, focusing on “leadership coaching, performance coaching, and team-building coaching, primarily for corporates.”

I ask Robin the obvious but often uncomfortable question: do failed filmmakers turn critics, and do failed cricketers turn coaches? He doesn’t flinch. There’s no defensiveness in his tone, just quiet conviction.

“To be a teacher, or to be a coach, it’s a calling. It’s not a job people do ... For me, it’s about guiding people, helping them discover their own best versions — that’s where my heart is.”

The mental health mission

What sets Robin apart is how personal his work is. He doesn’t shy away from revisiting the darkest period of his life — his long battle with clinical depression.

“It was actually my journey, you know, going through clinical depression and being suicidal,” he says matter-of-factly, without softening the words. At the time, cricket offered no language for such struggles.

“Nobody was really talking about it back then. You were expected to man up, perform, move on. But inside I was crumbling.”

Counselling, he says, was the turning point.

“I felt so empowered… I promised myself that once I recovered, I would talk about it, because a lot of people are going through this, but they don’t know how to articulate it.”

That promise became his mission. Since 2014, he has spoken openly about mental health in dressing rooms, in boardrooms and now on global stages.

His approach is simple: normalise the conversation.

“The more light you shed on it, the less taboo it has attached to it,” he says. By talking, he hopes to dismantle the shame. By listening, he hopes to model empathy. That vulnerability, he admits, is also what made him a better parent and coach.

“I know what it feels like to fail, to feel worthless. That’s why when I work with players or even with my kids, I remind them that their value doesn’t depend on performance.”

For Robin, speaking up isn’t brand-building; it’s survival turned into service. What once almost destroyed him now fuels his second innings.

Rethinking masculinity

Another passion project? A bold “modern masculinity programme.” It’s a three-and-a-half-day coaching intensive called Ember Born 11, designed to help men rediscover themselves.

“Every human being possesses both energies — the divine feminine and the divine masculine. It’s about knowing how to use them, and when.” It’s a deeply reflective, almost spiritual framework, far from cricket’s macho stereotypes.

Failure, purpose and legacy

On cricket, Robin is both candid and philosophical. Did he waste potential? He shakes his head. “When I retired… all those phases were a reconfirmation that I had actually lived my potential.”

He draws a sharp line between passion and purpose. “For me, cricket is passion, and playing cricket was truly my passion, but my purpose in life is serving people and helping them become the best versions of themselves.” He also tries to model his philosophies into his young children. Parenting is where philosophy meets practice, he says with a laugh. His kids are his proverbial lab rats.

“Put them into a sport for at least a year, because it gives them the opportunity to figure out how they exist within that sport,” he says. It’s advice born from his own life — sport teaches discipline, teamwork and how to face failure.

At home, he’s hands-on. Even in between corporate sessions and broadcasts, he’s the dad refereeing backyard football matches or helping with homework. He admits with a laugh, “I am really struggling with time management… my nighttime routine has taken a huge hit.” But for him, being present in his children’s lives is non-negotiable.

Money, indulgences and balance

Robin smiles when I ask about money. “Money is my best friend,” he says, recalling advice his wife gave him: “How would you treat money if it was your best friend?” He treats it as an ally, not the boss.

Indulgences? He admits to “watches and cars.” During lockdown, he even taught himself to build watches: “I worked through learning how to build watches… I have my whole equipment box for them.” He’s a Tesla man (spotted two parked in his garage), and is painfully pragmatic about sustainability: “I’m a realist… I want to do something that’s sustainable.”

Reinvention with receipts

What’s striking about Robin’s journey is that he didn’t quit one life to start another. He evolved.

“Moving from passion, I was very cognisant that the next thing that I do has to be aligned directly with my purpose in life.”

From batter to broadcaster to performance coach, the thread has always been the same: service. “My purpose is serving people and adding value to them.”

And Dubai has been both backdrop and catalyst. “I had to live out of my comfort zone for a good 18 months since my move from India but it was well worth it. I learnt a lot. I grew a lot.”

For Robin, the real scoreboard isn’t runs or caps anymore. It’s growth — his own, his family’s, and the people he now coaches to become the best versions of themselves.