Lakshmi Kanchi

Intro: Hello, my name is Savannah Travia-Dann, and I’m a Nyul Nyul woman from Winawaal Country on the Dampier Peninsular. 

Welcome to a collection of stories shared by Indigenous and Non-Indigenous Australians in various locations across Walyalup. 

Walyalup is the Noongar name for Fremantle, located on the south-west coast of what is now known as Western Australia. Like the rest of the continent, Walyalup is ancient Country and home to one of the world’s oldest continuing cultures, the Noongar people. 

In this series, you will hear live recordings from people who have shared difficult truths, hidden histories and visions for the future. It was created as part of the First Stories collection and funded by Lotterywest – bringing First Nations truths and lived experiences to new audiences. These stories reflect personal experiences of colonisation, resilience, connection and belonging in Walyalup and across Australia. 

Produced by the Centre for Stories in partnership with the City of Fremantle, these recordings were captured on Noongar Boodja. We pay our deepest respects to Noongar Elders past and present, and to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people who since the beginning, have been the custodians, carers, knowledge holders and storytellers of this land. 

Before we begin, please be aware that this episode may contain references to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultures, histories and experiences that belong to the storytellers. It may include themes and language that some listeners may find distressing. 

We acknowledge the ongoing impacts of colonisation and the importance of truth-telling in creating a more honest understanding of our shared history. We also recognise that these stories may be particularly challenging for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander listeners. 

If you’re feeling distressed or triggered while listening, please reach out to 13 YARN on 13 92 76, where you can speak with an Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander Crisis Support Worker.  

In this episode, you will hear from Lakshmi Kanchi. Lakshmi is an emerging prize-winning Indian Australian poet and storyteller on a mission to make poetry accessible. Lakshmi talks about how some voices and stories in Australia have been hidden, and there is a certain idea of what stories and songs are considered ‘Australian’ today.  This is Lakshmi.  

LK: All right. Hello everyone. How are we? Alright. To tell you the truth, I’m a little bit nervous, but I’ve got a way I’ve got a way out of it in the sense that I’m gonna launch with a song and I think there’s no better way of feeling less nervous. This is a spicy old Bollywood number. It’s a love song and it’s in Hindi, and I feel that despite the language barrier, I’m pretty certain that most of you are going to recognize that tune almost instantaneously. Alright, so let me give it a shot.  

[Sings in Hindi] 

Alright, before I butcher it, I will stop right there.  

Now, did you recognize something about that riff tune, something in there that spoke to you? Yeah, I’ve got a helper here who has a recording of the song that might be way better than what I sang. So let’s have a listen.  

[Original Hindi song plays on speaker] 

All right. That did a better job. So you got it. It’s John Farnham’s, You’re the Voice. Except it wasn’t John Farnham’s ‘you’re the voice’ that I grew up listening to. I grew up listening to the Lovey-Dovey Indian version that practically lived in my house. It spilled from the radio, from the tele, it poured from old audio cassettes. It was the version we danced to at the big Fat Indian weddings. It was the version that was badly sung by my cousins and friends from the back seats of cars. It belonged to this movie called Aashiqui, which is early nineties Bollywood movie, and it is made up entirely of longing.  

Longing, long hair, wet eyes, big feelings and music that never entered softly. And that was the one thing about Bollywood. Bollywood could take a tune, a music, a snippet from elsewhere, drape it up in silk and turn it into the most beautiful love song. And I thrived on it. I absolutely loved it. I soaked up all the drama, the sweetness, the heartache, and how every feeling had a melody attached to it. It became a part of my life in a beautiful and complicated way.  

Now, I arrived in Australia and it had been a couple of years at back then, and I found myself outside the Freo markets. One beautiful day at the bus stop waiting for my bus – It was the quintessential Freo morning. The sun was out, it was warm and vibrant. There was a slight breeze blowing, and you could taste the salt in the air. The people were in no rush. They were moving slowly. And I too was soaking in that beautiful, magical day.  

And out of nowhere comes a combi van and it comes to a stop at this signal, right opposite the bus stop and blasting from the radio sorry. Stereo is this music. I kind of find it familiar. I kind of don’t. I kind of recognize it, feel as though it must belong to me, but it doesn’t. It is the John Farham song. You Are The Voice. And you can imagine this is the first time I’ve heard this song. So it was a surreal experience. I felt pretty gob smacked. I didn’t know what to think of.  

And for a few seconds, I was split between this girl child in India listening to a Bollywood track, which was all about love and desire and romance. And this woman in Walyalup listening to the John Farham version, which was about speaking up, about not staying silent, about getting together and making some noise.  

And I could see these two strangers sitting on the front seat of the combi van mouthing the lyrics word for word, line for line. They knew it by heart and they were singing passionately, wildly, and they were absorbed by it totally. And also there was a slight bit of reverence for they thought of it as an anthem almost. And I could sense that it was a strange feeling and I had all this churning through, and I was swinging between India and here that I found myself actually listening, listening to the song deeply and differently.  

And you can imagine there are so many thoughts going on inside my head. What is going on? What is this song? 

One of the threads took me to the Fremantle Native School, which is not far from here, on Cliff Street. Fremantle Native School was established in 1842 with a purpose of assimilating Noongar children into White society. And amongst these children were girls and boys who were asked to never speak their language, who were asked to cast aside their culture, whose very voices were ignored, but not just that they were deliberately interrupted, silenced and erased.  

Now, there are so many examples of silencing and erasure that happen, and it’s throughout history, and you don’t have to travel that far back in history. There are contemporary and more recent examples of it.  

And somehow, while I was listening to that song and thinking about these thoughts, I couldn’t untangle this from the song itself, You are the voice, while the voices are being silenced. And what about the situation in Australia right now, where we are all free to sing this song out loud and proud? And the First Nations people are still fighting for a basic right to be heard on their own land? 

As a migrant I know a thing or two about carrying language across water, about holding a world within a world about the weight of translation, about the quiet joy and comfort of hearing something familiar in a strange place, in a place that is not yet fully home. And I also respect and acknowledge that my story of arrival is not the first story here. That this story sits atop many more ancient stories. That it sits on country and it sits on Whadjuk Noongar Boodja.  

It’s listening. I find listening is the best way of arriving at a place. It is the respectful way, it’s the proper way of arriving. I work as a poet and a community maker. And I’ve worked with several different organizations. I’ve worked with the Wetland Center, I’ve volunteered there for the last 11 years. I’ve worked with Centre for Stories. I’ve had the privilege to and across multiple projects. And I’ve worked with WA poets as their project manager in all my roles and capacities. I’ve had the gift and privilege of working alongside the First Nations people, alongside Noongar elders, alongside community leaders, artists and creatives. And it’s been an absolutely enriching experience working with a mob, learning from them, listening to them.
And there is a particular story that comes to mind. Of course, there are so many stories, but I’m going to just be able to highlight one. And this one belongs to Aunty Vanessa Corunna, whom I had the privilege of working with last year. She is a powerhouse. She is a knowledge keeper. She is a respected Noongar elder.  

And I’ve heard this story from her very lips. So I feel infinitely blessed. And she talks about listening to the water, listening to the trees, listening to the bush, listening to country for the country forever speaks. And I find that all these stories reinforce my sense of belonging to this place. And that is the migrant experience in a capsule.  

We bring our story and the world gifts us another. We don’t have to discard one story for another. We don’t have to swap one story for another. We can let both stories coexist. And yes, sometimes stories clash and sometimes stories harmonize. But sometimes stories can sit side by side, like two versions of the same song. Both true, both unfinished. And I think this is the reason why I have held onto that song for such a long time. It’s been so close to my heart, not because it has one true and clear meaning, but because it has layers and layers of meaning that unfold and unfurl. Because on one hand, it could become a love song, and on another it could become an anthem, because it could belong equally to a Bollywood film, to an Australian crowd, an Indian child. And it could most certainly belong to that migrant at the bus stop waiting for her bus on Walyalup.  

Thank you very much. 

Outro: Thank you for listening to the Backyard Truth Telling Series. This collection of stories was made possible through the generous support of the City of Fremantle and Lotterywest and was produced by the Centre for Stories. 

To learn more about the City of Fremantle’s commitment to reconciliation, visit fremantle.wa.gov.au. 

If you’d like to hear more stories from the Backyard Truth Telling Series, visit centreforstories.com. 

Centre for Stories is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to uplifting diverse voices, fostering connection and creating spaces where stories can be shared and heard. If you’d like to support this work, please consider making a donation through our website: centreforstories.com. 

This podcast was produced by Savannah Travia-Dann, with storytelling training from Ron Bradfield Jnr and Mariela Espino Zuppa, and sound engineering by Mason Vellios and Cobie Mason. 

Thank you for joining us and thank you for supporting the storytellers who have generously shared their truths, experiences and visions for the future.