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Why are over 20,000 migrant teachers underutilised?

By
Indian Link
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Teacher shortage migrant skills
Reading Time: 4 minutes

 

Australia needs more teachers. It ranks among the worst-performing countries in the OECD for teacher shortages. This is particularly so for public schools.

As of December 2025, there was a reported shortfall of 2,600 teachers in Victoria and New South Wales alone.

A 2024 Australian Education Union survey of 953 primary and secondary schools also found almost 83% were experiencing teacher shortages. Many were relying on merged classes, relief staff and teachers taking on extra duties simply to keep operating.

State and federal governments have acknowledged the shortage, and have a national plan to improve the situation.

Yet while schools continue to struggle to fill vacancies, Australia has access to an untapped teaching workforce. But it is not using it.

Thousands of qualified migrant teachers already living here are not fully employed in the profession. What’s going on?

A broader skills recognition problem

A migrant teacher is one who did their teaching qualifications in another country before coming to Australia to live.

teacher shortage
Overseas skills recognition is a major problem for our workforce, leading to underutilised skills. (Source: Canva)

Migrant teachers currently make up about 6% of the overall teaching workforce in Australia. But there are an estimated 20,590 qualified migrant teachers who are not working in schools at all or who are underemployed (not working as much as they want).

This is part of a broader national problem. Policymakers have long warned Australia is failing to make full use of migrant skills. Earlier this month, former Treasury secretary Ken Henry argued many migrants are working in jobs well below their qualifications, weakening productivity and leaving workforce shortages unresolved.

It is estimated 44% of Australia’s skilled migrants are employed below their skill level.

An uncertain process

For teachers trained overseas, entering the profession in Australia is often a long and uncertain process.

The entire process, from initial document preparation to final approval, can take several months. Sometimes, if a migrant needs to do more study to meet Australian standards, it can take up to two years.

Most begin by having their qualifications assessed by the national teaching institute to see if they fit with Australia’s teaching standards. They may also need to meet English language proficiency requirements, even when they have taught for years in English-speaking settings.

teacher shortage
As our students become more diverse, so too should our teachers. (Source: Canva)

They must then register through a state or territory teacher regulatory authority. Because education is governed separately across jurisdictions, rules and processes can vary. Most states and territories require a minimum of four years of full-time tertiary training and a minimum of 45 days of supervised teaching. But specific requirements for Working with Children Checks, police checks and documentation vary significantly by jurisdiction and employer.

The pathway can be expensive. It may involve translating documents, verifying transcripts and sitting English tests multiple times to meet the score required if one’s teacher qualifications are not from Australia, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, United States, Canada or Ireland.

Teachers trained overseas who hold a three-year teaching degree often need to undertake further study or bridging program to address regulatory gaps and satisfy registration requirements.

What happens next?

Even for migrant teachers who successfully gain registration, barriers often remain.

My research with migrant teachers in Australia shows many arrive with years of experience, strong subject expertise and a deep commitment to teaching. Yet they are often treated as newcomers with deficits rather than professionals with valuable expertise.

Some describe years of waiting, repeated applications and being told they lack “local experience”. Others report being overlooked because of their accent, unfamiliar names or assumptions about classroom fit.

Years of overseas teaching are frequently discounted, forcing experienced educators to start again at lower levels or in casual roles.

Some eventually leave teaching altogether.

This is a significant loss. Not only can these teachers fill vacant positions, they can bring many benefits. They have linguistic resources, intercultural knowledge and global experience that can strengthen schools and better reflect increasingly diverse student communities.

What needs to change for migrant teachers

To boost migrant teachers in Australia, we can make several changes.

local experience
Australia needs to tap into its migrant teacher workforce to fill shortages. (Source: Canva)

First, we can make the recognition of qualifications faster, clearer and more nationally consistent.

Second, targeted transition programs by state education departments or registration bodies could help teachers understand Australia’s curriculum requirements, classroom expectations and local systems without unnecessary formal retraining through universities.

Third, overseas teaching experience should count more meaningfully in salary placement, hiring and promotion.

Fourth, schools should review recruitment practices for bias and better recognise international experience, multilingual capability and cultural knowledge.

Finally, once they are employed, migrant teachers should have proper mentoring and clear career pathways so they can stay and thrive in the profession.

This article, written by Sun Yee Yip, Lecturer in Teacher Education, Monash University, first appeared in The Conversation, and has been republished under a Creative Commons licence. 

When books become blockbusters: 8 Indian adaptations worth watching

By
Harsheni Maniarasan
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Reading Time: 4 minutes

 

What happens when a great book meets the big screen? In Indian cinema, quite a lot. For decades, filmmakers have dipped into literature for stories worth retelling – sometimes sticking close to the source, sometimes boldly reshaping it.

It’s not an easy transition. Pages packed with detail have to become a tight, visual narrative. But when it clicks, the magic is undeniable – stories that live twice, once in print and once on screen.

Here are eight sensational Indian movies that reiterate their book origins with nuance and richness.

Devdas (2002)

(Based on Devdas by Sarat Chandra Chattopadhya)

Starring: Shah Rukh Khan, Aishwarya Rai, Madhuri Dixit

A much-loved cult classic in Indian cinema, Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s adaptation reimagines Sarat Chandra Chattopadhya’s Bengali romance novel of the same name with intensity and passion. The film narrates the story of wealthy law graduate Devdas (Khan) who returns to Bengal to wed his childhood friend and lover, Parvati “Paro” (Rai). Much to his dismay, Devdas’s family rejects the union, sparking his spiral into alcoholism and eventual undoing as he struggles to come to terms with the loss of his love.

Ponniyin Selvan: I (2022) & Ponniyin Selvan: II (2023)

(Based on Ponniyin Selvan by Kalki Krishnamurthy)

Starring: Vikram, Karthi, Ravi Mohan, Aishwarya Rai, Trisha Krishnan

This two-part chef d’oeuvre by Mani Ratnam paints on the screen Kalki’s five-volume historical fiction tale set in the 10th century Chola Empire. A spectacle of loyalty, dynastic pressures, conspiracies and the ever-immense tension between duty and love, the films follow events during the reign of Rajaraja Chola I (Mohan). Condensing the first two volumes, Ponniyin Selvan: I recounts the journey of warrior Vandiyathevan (Karthi) who embarks across the Chola land to deliver messages from crown prince Aditya Karikalan (Vikram) to Aditya’s sister and father, but soon stumbles upon secret plans to overthrow the Chola throne. The sequel covers the remaining three volumes, continuing to revolve around the rule of Rajaraja Chola I as his kingdom fights to resist perilous threats to the empire. A regal and visually brilliant saga infused with high-octane drama, the films are faithful portrayals of their textual sources.

Pather Panchali (1955), Aparajito (1956) & Apur Sansar (1959)

(Based on Pather Panchali and Aparajito by Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay)

Starring: Subir Banerjee, Kanu Banerjee, Karuna Banerjee, Uma Dasgupta, Pinaki Sengupta, Smaran Ghosal, Soumitra Chatterjee

Indian adaptations worth watching
Indian adaptations worth watching Indian adaptations worth watching Indian adaptations worth watching

Satyajit Ray’s Apu Trilogy flawlessly recreates Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay’s heartfelt bildungsroman* novels through a cinematic lens.  In the vein of its title that translates as ‘Song of the Little Road’, the first movie Pather Panchali narrates the hardships of its child protagonist Apu (Subir Banerjee) and his elder sister as their family navigates austere rural poverty. Through a raw and unwavering gaze, Ray rendered a soul-stirring take on daily existence, pains and joys.

The sequel Aparajito spans from the last part of the first novel to the early sections of the second novel depicting Apu’s life after his family relocates to Varanasi, as he grows from a young boy (Sengupta) to a college adolescent (Ghosal). In this film, Ray explores the strained relationship between Apu and his mother, as the former slowly detaches himself from his rural background. The unconventional portrayal of the mother-son relationship was one of the very first in Indian cinema, cementing the film as bold, sublime and emotionally rich.

Concluding the celebrated trilogy with a flourish, Apur Sansar chronicles Apu’s (Chatterjee) romantic relationship with his wife, Aparna, who unfortunately dies during childbirth. Struggling to grapple with his grief and the responsibility of raising his son, Apu eschews his duties and becomes a vagabond.

A cornerstone of both Indian and world cinema, the Apu trilogy is hailed by critic Roger Ebert as “a promise of what film can be”.

* ‘Bildungsroman’ is a literary genre that follows the protagonist’s growth from childhood to adulthood.


The Goat Life (2024)

(Based on Aadujeevitham by Benyamin)

Starring: Prithviraj Sukumaran, Jimmy-Jean Louis, K.R. Gokul Amala Paul

This Malayalam survival drama makes for an accurate rendition of Aadujeevitham by Benyamin, with both works shedding light on the unjust, yet rampant exploitation of migrant workers in the Gulf states. Two Malayali immigrants Najeeb (Prithviraj) and Hakim (Gokul) seek better livelihoods in Saudi Arabia, only to be picked up by a deceitful local and later separated from each other. Trapped in dire circumstances, Najeeb is forced into slave labour at a remote, isolated desert farm as a goatherd – his dangerous journey and tribulations following his escape forms the remaining of the plot. Blessy’s direction cleverly delves into themes of profound loneliness, faith and sheer human will amid adversities.

Visaranai (2016)

(Based on Lock Up by M. Chandrakumar)

Starring: Dinesh, Anandhi, Samuthirakani, Murugadoss

Reworking true incidents of custodial torture and abuse of authority by the law enforcement agency, this Tamil socio-political thriller revolves around four labourers in Andhra Pradesh who are brutally persecuted in detainment and pressured to confess to a crime they did not commit. Soon, they experience a short-lived relief after being saved by a presumed honest policeman when they realise greater challenges loom over them. The savage events in the film were based on M. Chandrakumar’s memoir which recounted his personal experience of being arrested with his three friends and enduring two agonising weeks in prison. Directed by Vetrimaaran, the critically acclaimed film foregrounds the horrors of corruption and police violence.

Read more: The Bard goes masala

The secret sensory life of plants

By
Indian Link
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0
(Source: Canva)
Reading Time: 3 minutes

 

Plants are often seen as passive organisms, rooted in one place and largely unable to react to the world around them.

But a new field of research is challenging these assumptions and showing that plants are as sophisticated as animals in detecting and adjusting to environmental signals.

Plants can perceive light through specialised proteins, detect sound vibrations and respond to touch via mechano-sensitive channels, recognise chemical signals released by neighbouring plants, and even retain memories of past experiences through changes in their DNA.

My own research focuses on how plants detect the passage of time as part of their seasonal cycle, but that is merely one aspect of a major reconsideration of their sensory capacity – and the parallels with animal senses.

Plants can see colours

Anyone who has noticed a flower turning its head to track the sun knows plants can detect light. Like animals, plants sense light signals using specialised receptors, each for a different wavelength (or colour) of light.

Phytochromes detect red and far-red light and cryptochromes and phototropins respond to blue and ultraviolet light. These sensors transform light cues into molecular signals to coordinate a plant’s daily circadian rhythms.

Emerging research suggests trees can even identify the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. This cue may act as a seasonal switch, triggering a transition in key physiological processes such as leaf ageing and bud setting.

My research identified a specific gene, known as Early-Flowering-3, in European beech trees (Fagus sylvatica) which seems to control seasonal responses such as energy storage, changes in plant hormone signals and preparing for winter.

But light detection is only one sense plants use to perceive their world.

Sensory life of plants: Plants, such as this kawakawa, can detect the vibrations caused by chewing insects. (Source: Canva)

Tuning into their environment

Plants can also listen. Studies show they can detect vibrations caused by chewing insects or the buzz of pollinating bees, and they respond to the sound of flowing water by directing roots towards it.

Plants can also generate their own vibrations. When under stress, tobacco and tomato plants emit ultrasonic clicks that provide information about the plants’ condition, including the level of dehydration or injury. These clicks can be heard using a sound recorder.

Scientists also documented what happens when they play sounds to plants. They observed changes in the membranes of their cells and the chemical signalling along ion channels. While plants do not have nerves, these channels function in a similar way, acting as tiny gateways to transmit information in and out of cells.

The exact receptors plants use to perceive sound remain unclear, but we are now investigating whether they sense vibrations through tiny hair-like structures on leaf surfaces.

Don’t touch me

Beyond vibrations, plants also respond directly to physical touch, often in striking ways.

Familiar examples include the touch-me-not plant (Mimosa pudica) or the Venus flytrap (Dionaea muscipula), which respond to touch by rapidly closing their leaves.

Sensory life of plants
Sensory life of plants: The Venus flytrap will shut its leaves, triggered by touch. (Source: Canva)

These examples illustrate plants’ ability to perceive and respond to mechanical stimuli. But beyond these rapid movements, plants also detect rain and damage caused by browsing herbivores. The latter prompts plants to activate defence responses such as the production of toxins or depositing lignin to make themselves less palatable.

Just like animals, plants contain specialised proteins that detect these physical forces. These mechanical sensing proteins convert physical stimuli into biochemical signals, often through calcium signalling.

Plants remember the past to decide the future

Changes in temperature provide a good example of plants remembering that winter has passed. Remembering cold temperatures helps them flower at the right time when spring arrives.

As observed in animals, these memories are stored through epigenetic mechanisms – chemical changes to DNA that don’t affect the genetic code.

Epigenetic changes alter the way genes are packaged and read, creating a molecular record of past conditions.

In New Zealand, for example, trees remember temperatures from previous summers to synchronise their reproduction across entire forests – a phenomenon known as masting.

Masting triggers widespread seed production – and subsequent pest outbreaks that can threaten native wildlife. Researchers revealed that removable markers generate temporary chemical tags that can switch genes off. This allows masting plants to carry information from one year to the next.

Together, these findings show that plants can see, hear, feel and remember in ways parallel to our own sensory systems. Far from being passive or unresponsive, plants respond to environmental clues in sophisticated and complex ways.

Rethinking plant life in this way challenges long-held ideas about intelligence, awareness and communication in the natural world.

The ‘sensory life of plants’ was first published in The Conversation written by Research Fellow in Molecular Biology, University of Canterbury

Read more: Native plants in your garden

Brushstrokes of belonging: Harris Park mural

By
Prutha Chakraborty
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Harris Park Mural
Artists Gauri Torgalkar, Patrick Hunter and Em Hatton (Source: Connor Neil)
Reading Time: 4 minutes

 

At Sydney’s Harris Park, affectionately called ‘Little India’, a 120-metre mural transforms Station Street East into a living, breathing canvas. There is no single story, no single narrative — and that refusal to simplify sits at the heart of this project.

The artwork, as artist Gauri Torgalkar describes it, is a layered visual journey through “memory, adaptation, and assimilation”, capturing not just what the South Asian diaspora looks like, but what it feels like to live between worlds.

Titled ‘A Tapestry of Harris Park’, the mural marks the first stage of a broader cultural precinct project led by the City of Parramatta with support from the Australian government. Beyond its scale, the collaborative work, inaugurated on April 2, stands out for its insistence on complexity – resisting the easy, often flattened narratives that diaspora communities are reduced to in public art.

Harris Park Mural
Aerial view of 120-meter long Harris Park Mural (Source: Connor Neil)

Harris Park itself embodies that complexity. Once home to early European settlers, later a thriving Lebanese community in the 1960s, it is now widely frequented by the South Asian diaspora. Yet, as Torgalkar points out, even in its current identity, the suburb carries “markers of its previous iterations and journeys, alongside the newer more nuanced and layered hybridity it experiences on a regular basis”.

For Torgalkar – who has lived in India, the US and now Australia – that hybridity is deeply personal. Her practice, she says, has long explored “the immigrant experience, particularly the need to forge cultural connections within new communities”. In this mural, that translates into a refusal to offer a singular version of South Asian identity. Instead, the work embraces multiplicity, allowing different stories to coexist.

The birth of a unique concept

Extensive community consultation was a huge part of creating the mural. Torgalkar, along with collaborators Em Hatton and Patrick Hunter, gathered stories ranging from first-generation migrants’ early struggles to younger voices navigating dual identities. The team merged these voices – so they are “nostalgic for those from the diaspora, while exciting for visitors unfamiliar with the culture”.

At the centre of the mural sits a powerful metaphor: food. Not as cliché, but as connection. Drawing from the Dharug meaning of Parramatta – “the meeting place of eels” – the three artists created a gathering scene around a radiant golden sun, sending spices and herbs outward. Indian elements such as chillies, cinnamon, cloves and anise sit alongside Lebanese olives and wheat, and native Australian ingredients like lemon myrtle. An elephant welcomes visitors with a garland, embodying ‘Atithi Devo Bhava’, the Indian ethos of hospitality.

(Source: Connor Neil)

Food, Torgalkar explains, is often the first entry point into culture – “No celebration is without food”. But here, it becomes something more: a shared language across communities.

That idea of coexistence runs throughout the mural. The duality of janmabhoomi (land of origin) and karmabhoomi (land of action) – a concept echoed by community members – is visually embedded across the work. Indian motifs are never isolated; they are always grounded in Australian contexts. Marigold garlands hang from a Hills Hoist. A monkey swings through a suburban backyard. Diwali lanterns illuminate heritage buildings. A peacock dances alongside a lyrebird.

Art attack

But not all stories are loud. Embedded within the mural are quieter, more intimate narratives: two girls practising Bharatanatyam, perhaps alongside ballet or jiu-jitsu, reflecting parents’ efforts to preserve culture through the next generation; children playing cricket under a banyan tree – a symbol both deeply Indian and universally communal.

If one looks closely, the mural’s structure carries meaning – it moves from sunrise to nightfall, becoming a metaphor for migration itself — “beginning with arrival… moving towards assimilation and adaptation… and then toward belonging,” Torgalkar tells Indian Link. The shifting colour palette mirrors this journey, evolving from cool morning tones to vibrant midday hues and softer evening shades.

For contemporary artist Em Hatton, navigating this complexity required restraint. “The highest priority for us has been in not coming in and making assumptions,” she says, particularly as someone outside the South Asian diaspora. Instead, her role became one of facilitation, centering community voices and ensuring that “all elements in the mural are directly related to stories from the community.”

Hatton’s own connection to the diaspora – through her South Indian Tamil partner’s family, who migrated to Western Sydney in the 1980s – also shaped her understanding. She speaks of the “third culture” experience, where second-generation individuals exist not within one identity, but a hybrid of both.

(Source: Connor Neil)

For Patrick Hunter, the scale of the mural offered a different kind of challenge. “At that size the mural becomes an environment rather than an image – you move through it, you don’t just look at it,” he shares.

Rather than pre-defining the entire composition, Hunter worked from sketches, allowing the piece to evolve organically. The key, he explains, was rhythm: “tension and release… areas of complexity that reward close looking, and then moments of breath”.

The left-most section of the mural, featuring the cockatoo surrounded by paisleys and floral motifs, was brought to life by community members, residents and shopkeepers.

“When people feel connected to a work, they care for it,” Torgalkar adds. “In that sense, this mural is not just for the community and of the community, but it is also, in part, created by the community, for all to experience.”

Read more: Gauri Torgalkar: An Australian floral tribute to Diwali

Solo travel: Unexpected life lessons in Botswana

By
Ritam Mitra
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Reading Time: 4 minutes

 

Part of the beauty of solo travel is the spontaneity that comes with the absence of meaningful guardrails. At its best, the abandonment of inhibitions means true escapism; money becomes monopoly money, strangers become friends, the next stop is wherever you want it to be. Even at its worst – when logic gives way to travel-induced insanity – you pick up life lessons and stories worth telling (even if sheepishly), as I was reminded on a recent trip to Botswana.

Botswana is a vast, dry, and startlingly beautiful country. Although synonymous with the Okavango Delta – the world’s largest inland delta – up to 90% of Botswana is covered by the Kalahari Desert. 

I arrived in Maun, the dusty safari gateway town, with no great ambition beyond seeing wildlife in Botswana’s ‘high cost, low impact’ model – fewer tourists, fewer jeeps. 

Any visitor to Africa needs to be comfortable with things not going to plan – TIA (This is Africa) is the refrain – but my first day was going particularly smoothly. I’d been upgraded on the way in, my driver was waiting at the airport, and at the pub, made fast friends with a South African mining entrepreneur, and a British expat from Singapore. 

But Africa has a way of cutting you down to size.

At some point in the night – lubricated by exceedingly cheap lagers – our South African friend offered us a lift. In Sydney, the response would be ‘No thanks mate, I’ll get an Uber’. Instead, here: ‘TIA, let’s go.’

Botswana solo travel
Sitting under the shade of a Moremi Baobab tree (Source: Supplied)

My hotel was just across the Thamalakane River, but the nearest bridge was 15 minutes away. ‘No matter, we’ll take the shortcut’ said our driver, seated in a Great Wall ute bearing very little structural similarity to a Landcruiser. It wouldn’t be my first time in a car driving through flowing waters in Africa, so I didn’t protest.

In hindsight, I should have.

Halfway across the river, the ute got stuck. Water was rising rapidly. My passenger side door would not open because of the pressure. As the driver forced his door open, the river rushed in with enough force to clarify the situation very quickly. We scrambled out and waded to shore in chest-deep water in darkness, shoes filling with mud, dignity dissolving. 

And this is where Botswana began handing out life lessons against my will.

Lesson one: You don’t need all the data

The corporate world loves complete datasets and 100-page slide decks before making decisions. But standing in a river in Botswana in the dead of the night, I was operating in what some might call a “limited data environment”.

Had I known, while still in the river, that it was home to hippos, crocodiles, and a history of recent fatal encounters, I may have made an even worse decision – such as climbing onto the vehicle and waiting there like a marinated entrée. 

Lesson two: Credentials matter

We all know someone who speaks with the confidence of a subject matter expert but has the qualifications of a Facebook comments section. Most of the time, they’re harmless. Occasionally, they drive you into a river at night in a vehicle that has no business being there.

If someone suggests a “shortcut” through moving water, a little due diligence helps. Questions like ‘Have you done this before?’ and ‘Could we die if you get it wrong?’ 

Solo travel Botswana
Spotting hippos during the Mokoro safari (Source: Supplied)

Lesson three: Be goal-oriented

Wading through the black river, I made the deeply unhelpful mistake of turning on my phone flashlight. Suddenly, every ripple became a potential apex predator. I quickly realised that with the light off, the situation downgraded from “blockbuster National Geographic documentary about natural selection” to “spontaneous night swim with consequences.”

With only my end goal – the shore – in mind, things were much less frightening.

Lesson four: nature reigns supreme

The absurdity of that first night could have easily set the tone for my time in Botswana, but it didn’t – over the next week, I saw the best of what Botswana had to offer.

At Moremi, we watched a pride of lions draped in the shadow of a tree in lazy intimacy, elephants appeared from all corners, zebra blocked paths with complete indifference, and towering baobabs stood watch in the distance. Across the Delta, the Mokoro safari was the true prize, my fingers trailing through glassy water as my poler steered us through reeds, keeping a respectful distance from nearby hippos. 

Across the Makgadikgadi Pans – amongst the largest salt pans on earth – the scene was like something out of a fairytale, replete with hundreds of elephants, hippos, zebras, wildebeest, and giraffes, but few predators. In the four hours we spent there, we saw no other vehicles; our only company for lunch was a series of elephants playfully passing by our jeep. 

Solo travel Botswana
Hippos in the river, zebras blocking the road, and vultures swooping on carcasses (Source: Supplied)

At the nearby and otherwise barren Nxai Pan, the watering holes absolutely teemed with life and death alike, as wildebeest, springbok and elephants sought an escape from the drought, while vultures feasted nearby on the carcasses of those who could not.

For all that Botswana taught me, the biggest lesson was that nature is both remarkably beautiful, and completely uninterested in your plans.

TRAVEL NOTEBOOK

Best time: July – September for peak water levels and wildlife.

Getting there: Fly Australia → Johannesburg → Maun (gateway to the Delta).

Stay: Base yourself outside Maun (except for Magkadikadi and a helicopter ride over the Delta). Aim for Moremi, Chobe or Chief’s Island.

Cost: ~$3,500–$4,500 per person for a 5‑day shared safari (more for premium lodges, less for camping).

READ ALSO: Along the Silk Road’s living cities

 

ILASA’s Home Across the Horizons: A review

By
Rajni Anand Luthra
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0
home across the horizon
Reading Time: 5 minutes

 

The book Home Across the Horizons, produced by the Indian Literary and Art Society of Australia (ILASA), lands in interesting times. As migrants – especially those of Indian origin – continue to hear variations of “You don’t belong here” and “We’re full”, this anthology of short stories gently shifts the focus, exploring what the idea of “home” might mean to diasporic writers.

Across thirty-two stories, South Asian writers trace journeys of home, homecoming, home-building, and being unhomed. Together these stories explain (Hamsa Venkat), inform (Indranil Halder), chill (Gwen Bitti), disturb (Hasitha Adhikariarachchi), befuddle (Sydney Srinivas), intrigue (Vibhavari Das Singh), delight (Sumathi Krishnan), and inspire awe (Uma and the many ways we leave, arrive, and return to ourselves. Even if we’ve never crossed borders.

Building home, brick by brick

In Hriday Nayyar’s story, an international student toils away, balancing work and study, financial pressures and loneliness. It’s the very same grind in Pankaj Upadhyay’s piece, where a small-town youth arrives in Mumbai chasing the promise of a better life. In Pooja Anantha’s work, a young couple move through heartbreak and hope on their IVF journey – each step marked by quiet endurance. There’s struggle, but also the discipline of persevering. Home, here, is not inherited – it is built, painstakingly, through uncertainty, sacrifice, and small, stubborn acts of belief. And yet, years later, the toil finds its answer: in a quiet moment by Sydney Harbour; in a mentoring session that comes full circle in Mumbai; in a young family realising they were given a garden when they had only asked for a single flower.

home across the horizons
Authors with a copy of the book at the launch event (Source: Supplied)

The ache of elsewhere

The pull of “where I come from” meanders through many stories in the anthology. For writer Devaki, a chance sip of chai comforts and rejuvenates; for Rajeshwari Jayadev, the scent of jasmine becomes a bridge home. For Rekha Rajvanshi, a passing resemblance sparks memories of familial warmth, while for Hasitha Adhikariarachchi and Samantha Sirimanne Hyde, the civil war in Sri Lanka endures as a story that insists on being told. For many migrant writers, memory becomes a creative archive. Distance gives clarity: things once commonplace – smells, gestures, idioms – gain texture and meaning. Writing becomes a way to hold on to what risks fading, to preserve a self that might be diluted in new environs. “Back home” helps locate identity when much else is in flux.

home across the horizons
Anu Shivaram and Rekha Rajvanshi at the launch event (Source: Supplied)

Outsiderhood

Alienation is another oft-visited theme. The Madman of Barahdwari (Meena Mahanty Kumar), and the Witch of Karla (Preeti D’silva) are both shunned by their own for most of their lives, but find recognition in kindred spirits. Alienation is not always about distance from a place, but distance from belonging itself – of being made to feel like an outsider even within what should have been home. In migration, this dissonance sharpens: home is less a given, and more a shifting space one must constantly negotiate. 

Making peace with place

And then begins the psychological work of migration – of acceptance, reconciliation, and, eventually, allegiance. Acceptance arrives first, often quietly: a recognition of where one stands, and a willingness to inhabit it. (In Shipra Tewani’s story, the protagonist finally arrives at a sense of home after eleven years of troubled marriage marked by indifference, distance, and disease. Similarly, Sonu Sarda’s protagonist comes into her own when she decides she has had enough of her philandering partner.) 

home across the horizons
Rekha Rajvanshi with other diaspora authors (Source: Supplied)

Reconciliation follows, more layered, as migrants make peace with what has been left behind and what has been gained, holding both without letting one diminish the other. (For writer Usha Salagame’s character, despondent after a trip back “home” to India, a warm welcome from an immigration officer at Sydney airport is enough to settle where “home” truly lies. And in Sharon Rundle’s story, a father finally comes to terms with how his dying daughter wishes to be farewelled). 

And over time, something deeper takes root – an allegiance not born of origin, but of experience, of living and investing in a place until it begins, slowly, to feel like one’s own. Author Savitha Narayan brings this to life through a protagonist who makes a horrific decision in defence of her adopted country. In Alok Roy’s well-told story, an early Indian migrant’s English language test is revisited two generations later – with a surprising reversal of roles. In Jyotsna Jyoti’s tale, an Indian family forms an unlikely bond with resentful neighbours, over a game of cricket. In Hamsa Venkat’s piece, a diehard Bharatanatyam devotee, exposed to a variety of new genres, understands that all forms of dance are but a “language of the soul.” In Mekhala Ramprakash’s work, an Indian character gains an uplifting new perspective on death – and life – from her elderly Aussie neighbours. And in Vibhavari Das Singh’s story, the quiet pull of ancestors is felt wherever home is made, even if only temporarily. And saving the best for last, for 16-year-old writer Sanjana Vishal, home is where you are happiest, such as in the world of books and stories, even if it is your last day on earth.

In the dim light, her gaze fixed on a sterile, rectangular table, and carefully placed on it, a hardbound book with intricate detailing. She smiled, letting her final thoughts drift into a sanctuary of imagination.

home across the horizons
Rekha Rajvanshi at the NSW Parliament launch (Source: Supplied)

Home as belonging

Together, these stories edited by Anu Shivaram map the emotional geography of being human – the pull of roots, the courage of departure, and the fragile, hopeful work of making a life anew. They remind us that home is less about where we come from, and more about where we are allowed to belong. In the end, they challenge how we speak about migration. They make it harder to say, “We’re full”, because home is not a fixed place to be protected, but a living idea, shaped by those who arrive and those who receive. 

Set against today’s migration debate, Home Across the Horizons is the insight matters. Learn more about ILASA here.

READ ALSO: Book Review: Mother Mary Comes to Me

When heavy periods are treated as ‘woman’s fate’

By
Dr Preeti Khillan
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Heavy periods
Reading Time: 4 minutes

Heavy periods

In many families, heavy periods are not seen as a health issue, but accepted as part of being a woman. Girls are told to be brave, young women that it will settle, and mothers that it is normal after childbirth. So life goes on – work, study, school runs, social events – while managing pain, exhaustion, and constant anxiety. Yet this quiet burden is widespread. In Australia, around one in four females experience heavy periods, with recognised impacts on physical, emotional, social, and economic wellbeing.

When “just a period” begins to run your life Heavy periods

Heavy menstrual bleeding is not just about volume – it is defined by its impact on quality of life. It may involve frequent changes of protection, prolonged bleeding, large clots, or structuring daily life around fear of leaks. It can also lead to iron deficiency and anaemia, causing fatigue, dizziness, and reduced functioning. The national consumer guide notes that nearly two-thirds of women with heavy menstrual bleeding are iron deficient.

This is not a minor inconvenience. It is the student afraid to stand in class, the woman in a meeting worrying about stains, the mother planning her day around her body. When bleeding dictates what a woman wears, where she goes, how she sleeps, and whether she can leave home comfortably, it is no longer “just a period.” It is a health issue.

The silence is costing women dearly

The burden is significant, yet many women still do not seek help. A national survey by Jean Hailes (a not-for-profit dedicated to women’s health) found that 78% of Australian women aged 18–44 had experienced painful, irregular or heavy periods in the past five years. Of those affected, 75% said symptoms disrupted daily life, 44% had to pause work or study, and 58% reported impacts on mental wellbeing. Yet only 56% had spoken to a doctor.

That gap matters. It means women are normalising suffering that is often treatable, losing years to fatigue, pain, and delayed diagnosis. Many who do not seek help believe nothing can be done, or feel too embarrassed to ask.

When culture teaches women to endure

For women from culturally and linguistically diverse communities, the silence can run deeper. Not because culture is the problem, but because stigma, modesty, misinformation, and practical barriers can keep treatable conditions hidden. Research shows CALD women may face taboos around discussing such issues, along with language, financial, and access barriers. In practice, this can mean reluctance to seek care, fear of examinations, or uncertainty about the health system. Many are managing not just symptoms, but silence, stigma, and confusion – allowing heavy bleeding to be quietly normalised.

The price of bleeding quietly

Heavy periods also come with a cost that is rarely discussed openly. There is missed work, reduced productivity and poorer concentration. There is also the monthly household cost of pads, tampons, period underwear, pain relief, iron tablets, extra washing and spare clothing. Jean Hailes notes survey findings that 55% of respondents had missed work because of their period, and reporting on the same issue has estimated the economic burden of problematic periods in Australia at around A$14 billion a year. 

Heavy periods
Planning what you wear, where you go and what you do around your period suggests you might be facing a health issue (Source: Canva)

For many women, especially in a cost-of-living crisis, this is not a minor expense. It is another pressure added to an already exhausting experience.

Heavy bleeding can be a warning sign Heavy periods

Heavy bleeding can happen for many reasons. Healthdirect (a government-funded virtual health service) lists causes including hormone imbalance, fibroids, polyps, adenomyosis, endometriosis, thyroid problems, bleeding disorders and some medicines such as blood thinners. Australian longitudinal research has also shown that heavy menstrual bleeding becomes more common with age, rising from 17.6% at age 22 to 39.3% at age 48 among menstruating women, and is associated with poorer quality of life. 

Common does not mean harmless. Sometimes heavy bleeding is the first clue that something more is going on. Heavy periods

The conversation that can change everything

The good news is that women do not have to simply endure it. Australia’s Heavy Menstrual Bleeding Clinical Care Standard says women should be offered the least invasive and most effective treatment appropriate to their needs and preferences and supported to make informed choices. Treatment can include iron replacement, anti-inflammatory medicines, tranexamic acid, hormonal treatment, a hormone-releasing IUD, and in some cases procedures or surgery. 

If your periods are affecting your work, study, sleep, exercise, relationships or peace of mind, that is reason enough to seek help. Keep a simple record of how long you bleed, how often you change products, whether you pass clots, and whether you feel dizzy or exhausted. Take it to your GP. And if you are not heard, seek a second opinion. Women deserve better than being told to “put up with it.” They deserve answers, options and care.  Heavy periods

READ MORE: When periods begin, autism changes everything

Come on Angus Taylor, you can do better

By
Pawan Luthra
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0
Angus Taylor
Reading Time: 2 minutes

Angus Taylor’s immigration policy

 

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With the newly announced migration policy by the Liberal Party, it is a race to the bottom – and Angus Taylor and Pauline Hanson are both sprinting.

Taylors newly unveiled migration policy – is being sold as “strong” and “practical,” but it seems less like mainstream economic management and more like an audition tape for One Nation.

And if there’s one thing history shows, it’s that voters rarely reward the back-up band over the original act.

Because here’s the thing: when the Liberal Party starts sounding like One Nation, voters don’t think, “Wow, bold reinvention.” They think, “Why not just go for the original?”

Migration does strain systems, sure, but casting it as the root of all economic problems is both simplistic and misplaced.

And if this all feels familiar, that’s because we’ve seen the movie overseas – and it’s not exactly a box office hit.

In the US, Donald Trump built an entire political brand on going hard against migration. It fired up crowds, sure – but governing? That turned into chaos, division, and policies that proved unsustainable.

Then there’s Brexit – sold as “taking back control.” Fast forward, and Britain’s still trying to figure out who’s going to drive the trucks, staff the hospitals, and keep the economy from quietly wheezing in the corner. Turns out slogans don’t come with a workforce.

And this is the trap regarding Angus Taylor’s immigration policy, once you go down the fear-and-blame route, you can’t really climb back out.

If the Liberal Party wants to lead, it needs to sound like itself again: serious, solutions-focused, and not auditioning for someone else’s base.

A smarter approach would be to lean into what the Liberals have traditionally done well: acknowledge the pressures, invest in solutions, and keep the focus on economic results, not culture wars.

Because if there’s one consistent lesson from overseas, it’s this: negative leadership might win a headline, but it rarely wins the debate.

READ MORE: Middle East war: Uncertainty today, strength tomorrow

South Asian links at MWF and SWF 2026

By
Lakshmi Ganapathy
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0
Nikita Gill and guests at Melbourne Writers Festival Sydney Writers Festival 2026
Reading Time: 3 minutes

Turn the page on this year’s Melbourne and Sydney Writers Festivals, with headline international guest, Irish-Indian poet Nikita Gill, set to share her bestseller ‘Hekate’ with audiences in both cities, and lots of interesting stories from local writers across fiction and non-fiction writing.

The Melbourne Writers Festival runs from May 7th-10th, and the Sydney Writers Festival is on from May 17th-24th. Melbourne and Sydney Writers Festival 2026

NIKITA GILL

Melbourne  | Sydney

Nikita Gill Melbourne Writers Fest

The Sunday Times-bestselling author of eight poetry anthologies, Irish-Indian poet Nikita Gill is making a highly anticipated stopover at both Melbourne and Sydney writers festivals to share insights on myth and feminist reimagining.

AHONA GUHA

Melbourne | Sydney

Dr Ahona Guha Writers Fest

Clinical and forensic psychologist Ahona Guha will talk about her book, ‘How We Relate’ and navigating loss and resilience.

AVANI DIAS

Sydney

Avani Dias

The former ABC South Asia correspondent joins acclaimed journalists to talk about the stories that changed their life.

AMITAV GHOSH

Sydney

Amitav Ghosh

Don’t miss Jnanpith Award winner Amitav Ghosh as he reflects on his career in both fiction and non-fiction.

DINUKA MCKENZIE

Sydney 

Dinuka Mckenzie

Festival regular and author of the Detective Kate Miles series returns to lead a conversation about writing crime from a First Nations perspective.

MICHELLE DE KRETSER

Sydney

Michelle De Kretser

University of Sydney honorary associate Michelle De Kretser will be in conversation with the 2025 Booker prize winner on identity.

NIRAJ LAL

Melbourne 

Niraj Lal

Host of the ABC Kids podcast Imagine This brings some primary school imagination and insights about current affairs.

OSMAN FARUQI

Melbourne 

Osman Faruqi

Journalist and editor of Lamestream Media chats with fellow indie journalists about our media landscape. Melbourne and Sydney Writers Festival 2026

PRANATI NARAYAN VISWESWARAN

Melbourne 

PRANATI NARAYAN VISWESWARAN

The self-described culture junkie is here to celebrate cutting-edge new works and talent.

S. SHAKTHIDHARAN

Sydney 

S Shakthidharan headshot source supplied

Fresh off the back of his Windham-Campbell prize win, the playwright reflects on his debut memoir and family secrets.

SHANKARI CHANDRAN

Sydney

Shankari Chandran
Shankari Chandran (Source: Instagram)

Miles Franklin winner from Canberra shares her words of courage for the closing address of the festival.

SOOLAGNA MAJUMDAR

Melbourne

SOOLAGNA MAJUMDAR

The Kolkata-born, Perth raised comic artist shares pieces from forthcoming work Food Bird.

TASNEEM CHOPRA OAM

Melbourne

Tasneem Chopra OAM

The acclaimed cultural consultant will lead a conversation with two fierce women who refuse to back down. Melbourne and Sydney Writers Festival 2026

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