The recent special occasion of India’s 76th Independence Day elicited widespread appreciation from Australian politicians. Forty iconic Australian monuments were illuminated in India’s tricolour to honour the countries’ bilateral relationship and the Indian diaspora’s efforts toward raising “India literacy” in Australia.
“I am struck by the close friendship and spirit of cooperation between our two nations...Indian culture, customs and cuisines are celebrated elements of Australian life,” Australia’s Immigration Minister proclaimed. Indeed, new 2021 census data reveals that Indians are now the second largest immigrant community in Australia, overtaking the Chinese and New Zealanders (Indians are expected to claim top spot from the British within five years). What’s more, Hinduism is now Australia’s fastest growing religion, and Punjabi the fastest growing language.
The positive vibes being lavished on India represent a dramatic turnaround in the narrative over the past decade. It wasn’t until 2014 that relations between Australia and India really transformed, with reciprocal prime ministerial visits and the signing of a uranium supply deal. Before then, back in 2007, I had the challenging experience of accommodating a young Indian from Kerala at my home in Melbourne. He was the bushy-moustached son of a property owner from whom I had rented a place in Varkala. Having never left Kerala prior to landing in Australia to study, he begged to stay with me.
The arrangement ended abruptly one night, after only a week, when it became clear we couldn’t adapt to each other. Despite my familiarity with India, the cultural divide was too huge. He wanted me to escort him everywhere, he mistook a parking ticket vending machine for a phone booth, he was scared of the escalators at the mall, and he began each sentence with “Sister...” or “In Kerala...” It followed a regular pattern. “Sister... you have oranges? For feeding my god.” “Sister...I want rice. You make rice now.” “Sister...you serve my meal.” “Sister...in Kerala, this is costing only...” “Sister...I am not having enough money.” “Sister...I need job, you help me find job.” I felt overwhelmed by his increasing requests. He made a flurry of animated phone calls in Malayalam and then announced, “Sister...I am leaving now.” Soon after, I heard a car and Indian voices outside. Doors banged. There was silence.
In 2010, I had a vastly different experience when my parents invited a young Indian, who managed the local computer store, home for dinner. All my dad knew about him was that he had been in Australia for three years, and was lonely in their rural town, and missing India. Much to my surprise, he arrived carrying a bottle of wine. Not just any wine. Chardonnay. My favourite. He was on first-name basis with my dad. No “uncle” (or “sister”). The conversation flowed freely, peppered with Aussie slang he had acquired. It turned out he was a Punjabi Sikh from Madhya Pradesh. A short-haired Sikh without a beard or turban. Sadly, he had removed both to make it easier for himself to find work in Australia. After failing four times to join the Indian civil service, he came to Melbourne and completed a Master’s in Computing. Despite applying for about 700 jobs since graduating, he had been unable to land one in the city. He wasn’t giving up on his dream though. Instead of screaming, “Why me?” he kept saying, “Try me!”
I’m pleased to say there were happy outcomes for both guys in Australia. The guy from Kerala adapted and settled in. The one from Madhya Pradesh succeeded in getting a job in Melbourne, built a house, and married his long-term Indian girlfriend.
75 years ago, India and Australia were separated by conflict during the Cold War. These days, the two countries are more strategically aligned and understanding of each other, with a variety of things in common. Australians are discovering India beyond cabs, convenience stores, cricket, curry, and the Taj Mahal.