24 November 2013 marked the beginning of a chapter in my life that would take me across continents and years of self-discovery. My name is Rashpal Singh, hailing from Haryana, India. Fresh out of school, I was 19, full of the energy of youth, but directionless. Like many in small-town India, I had little control over my future. My mother decided that I should go abroad, specifically to Australia, to secure a better financial future. Her reasoning was simple—she knew someone who had gone there and was apparently doing well. The idea of "paisa" in a foreign land was enough to make me consider the journey, even though I had no idea what awaited me.
I began preparing for my IELTS exams, which seemed like an impossible task, considering I had studied in Hindi-medium schools where English was rarely spoken. Still, I practiced hard, and when I scored 5.5 bands, I was elated. However, my visa consultant, a relative working on commission, told me I needed 6 bands. I refused to go through the torture of studying for the exam again and begged him to send me to Australia with the score I had. He agreed and began the paperwork for a Cert IV in Business at South Institute of Technology, Brisbane.
When my acceptance letter came through, I needed to gather the funds. I asked my grandfather for 15 lakhs—10 for fees and the rest for living expenses. Initially, he was furious, believing that going abroad was a mistake, but eventually, he gave in. I paid the fees, shopped for branded clothes like any excited young man, and prepared to leave. My younger brother, Simran Singh, and my mother were equally excited for me. With a mix of excitement and nervousness, I boarded my flight from Delhi to Brisbane via Thailand on November 24, 2013.
The moment I landed in Thailand, I felt the weight of leaving home. It wasn’t the chaotic, noisy India I was used to. Instead, the calm and quietness of the airport hit me hard. I felt lost, but there was no turning back. When I landed in Brisbane, Australia, the silence and order of the place were overwhelming. I was supposed to meet a man named Vikas, a taxi driver who would house me, but when I tried to call him from a payphone, I had no idea how to use it. After struggling with coins and machines, I finally got someone to help me.
The guy my agent send me to couldn't pick me up, so I took a taxi to Greenslopes, a suburb in Brisbane, where I would be living in a small unit with five other people. The place was a far cry from my comfortable home in India. The mattress I slept on had no bed frame, and the atmosphere felt dead. My roommates seemed indifferent to my presence. On my very first day, they asked if I wanted to work, and I jumped at the opportunity. It was a cleaning job, but I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t even know how to properly use a mop! Unsurprisingly, I was fired after just one day.
I started attending college classes, but the Australian accent was impossible to understand. I had no clue how to do assignments, and I constantly felt out of place. I used to cry on the phone to my mother, begging her to let me come back to India, but she insisted I stay for at least two years. I agreed but secretly planned my return after those two years were up.
Months passed, and I remained jobless. Meanwhile, my friends found cleaning jobs or worked in restaurants. I finally got a job as a dishwasher at an Indian restaurant, but it was miserable. My clothes would be soaked with water, and despite my hard work, they refused to pay me. Eventually, I met the guy my agent had connected me with, and he helped me get a school cleaning job. That was a turning point. I started saving money and even went back to India for a short visit, returning to Australia with renewed energy.
In 2015, life began to stabilize. I bought a car, which made everything easier. I started delivering pizzas and got my open car license, allowing me to of becoming a taxi driver, which was a lucrative job at the time. I was also visiting India every year. I thought about staying back in India, but something always pulled me back to Australia.
By 2016, I had my taxi license and was making good money. My studies were coming to an end, and I needed 6 bands in IELTS to apply for permanent residency (PR) as a restaurant manager under the RSMS subclass 187 visa. After much effort, I got the required score, but fate had other plans. The government announced that they were closing the RSMS 187 visa program. Desperate, I contacted several potential sponsors, but they either backed out or tried to scam me. In the end, the visa program closed, and I had to start studying again, this time in a cookery course, to pursue a new path for PR and I started working in restaurant again.
In 2018, my mother and brother finally joined me in Australia. Life was much easier with them around. We rented our own house, and I helped my brother settle in, ensuring he didn’t face the same struggles I had. By 2020, I completed my studies, passed the necessary tests, and thought I was on the brink of PR. But then COVID-19 hit, and the government put a freeze on visa invitations for non-essential workers. Suddenly, my future in Australia seemed uncertain again.
Despite giving multiple English exams, I couldn’t meet the new requirement of 7 bands in each section. Friends were leaving Queensland for other states where PR was easier, but I held on, hoping things would improve. But, they did not. So, I moved to South Australia for my brother's PR process. But I didn’t care anymore for my own PR. The idea of getting permanent residency was no longer exciting, and I stopped putting in effort toward it. My skill assessment was expiring in a year, and I could have easily gotten PR by working in South Australia for 6 months, but I wasn’t interested. That’s when I made up my mind—I would move back to India. Getting permanent residency isn’t everything I should care about. The more we stress over it, the stricter the system becomes. Even people who are already born here or are citizens aren’t living exceptionally happy lives; they’re living normal lives. So, why should I be so desperate for it? I stopped caring about it altogether.
In 2022, I got an offer to work in the U.S. at the prestigious Broadmoor Hotel in Colorado Springs. It seemed like a dream come true—finally, I’d be going to my dream country, America. But when I got there, reality hit hard. The cost of living was exorbitant, and the work-life balance was non-existent. I realized that the image of America I had built in my mind was a lie, one perpetuated by social media and the stories of friends. After just a short while, I left America and returned to Australia, realizing that no country was the paradise it was made out to be.
By 2024, I had made up my mind. I had seen enough of the world. My brother had secured his PR in Australia, but for me, the idea of permanent residency no longer excited me. I longed to return to India and reconnect with my roots. I decided to move back permanently and focus on agriculture, a passion that had been lying dormant within me. I enrolled in a horticulture course in India and started planning my future around farming.
On October 24, 2024, exactly a month left in 11 years after I first left India, I will return home for good. During these years, I experienced the highs and lows of life abroad, learned invaluable lessons, and saw through the myths surrounding visas and foreign lands. It took me time, but I realized that true happiness lies in being close to one’s roots. I started a YouTube channel, Indian Roots Farm, where I plan to share my journey and experiences, hoping to change the perception many have about moving abroad.
Visas, permanent residency, and the allure of foreign countries—they’re not the ultimate goal. Life is about finding peace and purpose. After all the struggles, challenges, and successes, I am finally ready to return to the land that has always been home—India.