By Sharad Sharma
Indians living in Australia describe Australians as “White Indians” to denote that they are almost like themselves - simple, unaffected. Some others call them “truly blue” (blooded) because they respect and reward hard work.
Blend the two viewpoints and you discover a people, who are mostly warm, forgiving but extremely focussed and unrelenting when it comes to following the rules of the game.
That’s Australia for you. A far cry, so to speak, from the “racist” country that it has been caricatured as, following the spate of violent attacks on Indians since 2008. Young, aspiring Indians wittingly or unwittingly courted danger or devious methods to win permanent residency rights. A PR, to them, is a Protected Route to wealth, success, even riches. Yes, the real story about battered Indians in Australia is more about immigration and risky behaviour, than about racism.
What about the talk of Australian insecurity about Indians taking away their jobs, their space in general? Ben (Benjamin Peter), a software engineer from Wollongong University, the first Australian I met on the plane from Singapore to Sydney, did not bode even an iota of ill-will towards the 50 Indian engineers his company had hired in Wollongong. He was rather unsparing about fellow Australians. “Aussies are easy-going and do not like to work on weekends and holidays, unlike Indians,” he insists.
Drug abuse and drinking are serious issues with the youth, leading to increasing knife crimes. Some Indians may have fallen victim to the growing gun and knife culture of the big cities, he says.
Add to this the “P” platters or motorists as young as 16, armed with temporary driving licence, speeding in powerful, big cars. A large “P” on their vehicle number plates indicates their novice status, but the law, stringent as it is, is unable to curb this motor mania. Many Indian youngsters get killed in motor accidents, leaving their parents numbed when their body returns in a box within weeks or months of their arrival in Australia. Strangely, these self-inflicted tragedies have failed to move the media as much as the so-called “racist” attacks.
Croatian taxi driver Marco is the next person to certify Indians as very nice. In tribute, he waives off two dollars from my fare. Has he experienced the recent violence unleashed on taxi drivers? “Yes, occasionally by Australian passengers,” he replies but will not generalise. “Violence has no nationality. When people get upset, they react,” he reasons.
Tejender from Jallandhar, Punjab has been driving taxis for three years in Gold Coast, the tourist Mecca, and in Canberra, the clean, mean capital territory. Home to government offices, the Parliament and some premier universities, crime is rare here, much less racist fears.
Melbourne is the hot spot then? “Is it safe to walk the streets alone in Melbourne?” I ask Tejender. His reply embarrasses: “Can you walk in Delhi, decked up, after 8 pm? All big cities have their dark underbellies, which are best avoided.”
Meet Vineeti Janat, widow with two little boys, a gazetted officer. She made Australia her home by choice. “I live life at my terms here,” she says, partying with friends and also playing Ms Cupid for a colleague-couple at a Spanish parlour on Friday night. But then, it is safe haven, Canberra.
Vineeti plays “Rakhi sister” to scores of Indian youngsters, who feel lost and homesick in Oz. She has many true lies to debunk: “Remember Nitin Mahajan, whose death the media called racist killing. He committed suicide because he was penniless,” she reveals.
True, lured by the immigration system as it stood before the new restrictions came in February, fanned by the promises of agents, Indian students hope to find permanent residency in Australia. To them it means more than the right to live. It holds out the promise of a chance to help their parents escape a life of toil.
But once there, reality comes knocking sooner than later. With jobs no more easy to find, violence preventing them from working late, the money they bring from home runs out, consumed by college fees, food and rent.
Living in shared accommodation in the more affordable suburbs, even a train trip to the city seems a luxury. The rent for a two-bedroom flat is over $1000 a month. The social security for the jobless covers the expenses only partly, says Vivian, Chennai-educated doctor on a spouse visa. “I just found a job in casualty and need to pass some tests. The progression is slow but sure,” he adds confidently.
When the pressure gets too much, many starry-eyed youngsters fly back to India in the hope of returning later. If they do not, they will have wasted tens of thousands of dollars of their parents’ money.
Only affluent parents can afford to pay their children’s fees in good universities. Some get scholarships and work their way to permanent residency. The well qualified ones arrive with a work visa. But the vast majority land in Australia with barely adequate funds, are shocked at the cost of living and get into trouble. The trains are full of them, they attend colleges, good and bad, and they compete with other young people for low wage work. They protest on the streets about violence and safety in taxis, the Indian media cries racism. Students go to study cookery, hairdressing, automotive maintenance, multimedia, and accounting. But that’s not what they really are there for. More than 80 per cent are there for another prize - permanent residency. Despite the difficulties students keep going. INAV
