From Punjab to Australia: The grit and triumph of Amarjit Khela

In 1998, a 20-year-old Amarjit Khela arrived in Australia with just $20 in his pocket and a heart weighed down by homesickness. Leaving behind Balachaur tehsil in Punjab, he dreamed of something bigger, but Australia felt cold, unwelcoming, and emotionally distant. “I am not going to stay in this dry, non-emotional country forever,” he told himself, struggling to adjust to his new reality.

With no money to eat out and no skills to cook, Khela often slept on an empty stomach, longing for his mother’s roti and daal. His breakfast was a concoction of full-cream milk with Coke—his cheapest option to curb hunger before heading to college. The job search was equally humiliating. When he finally landed work as a kitchen hand at an Indian restaurant, the ordeal only worsened. Scrubbing dishes, peeling potatoes, and taking insults became his routine.

One evening, while sitting on the floor reading a Punjabi newspaper featuring his own article, his employer sneered, “Do you think you are going to become Munshi Premchand? Get up and do the dishes from last night.”

The man kicked his foot, stripping him of dignity—turning a writer into a servant. But the final blow came when Khela demanded his wages after three weeks of work. His employer laughed, calling it “training” and demanding two more weeks of free labour. That moment Khela decided to stay in Australia, not as a victim, but as someone who would carve his own path.

He walked away and found work at a petrol station owned by a Fiji-Indian migrant. The job was still gruelling, but at least he was paid from day one. Yet money was tight, and exhaustion constant. With nowhere to live, he began sleeping in a storage toilet at the petrol station. “In that toilet, my friends were cockroaches and mosquitos. My music was the sound of car tyres passing by on Canterbury Road,” he later recalled. When his father called from Punjab, Khela couldn’t bear to tell them the truth.

“I am sitting on a balcony of a nice apartment on an ocean shore,” he would lie, shielding his family from worry.

In 2002, Khela earned Australian residency. By 2004-2005, he had saved enough to bring his parents and brother to Australia, paying over AUD 1,00,000 for migration paperwork. “Having my family with me meant the world,” he said.

In 2006, Khela launched Unique International College in Sydney, offering vocational training to students. The business flourished, but success invited controversy. In 2015, the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission (ACCC) filed a lawsuit, alleging that the college had misled students over course fees and government loans. The case made national headlines, Khela, painted as an unethical businessman, chose to remain silent.

“I knew from day one that the college would win. There was no deliberate wrongdoing,” he later reflected.

In 2017, the college lost in federal court. But in 2018, the Full Federal Court of Australia overturned the ruling, dismissing allegations. The Commonwealth was ordered to pay legal costs. Khela had won. He then reshared his 2015 Facebook post that read, “I am quiet, but I am not dead. I shall speak with solid evidence when the time is ripe.”

Despite the setback, Khela’s business empire continued to grow—expanding into hospitality, retail, fuel, manufacturing, accommodation, and leisure. His mansion in Sydney, complete with a cinema, tennis court, swimming pools and a function centre, stood as a symbol of success. Yet, he never forgot that tiny toilet behind the petrol station.

“While it’s relaxing to sleep in a French-inspired master bedrooms, the deep sleep I had in that toilet 25 years ago is also unforgettable,” he said.

Despite his success, Khela’s heart remained with his homeland. His family has donated laptops, school supplies, and clothing to students in need. They have funded libraries and smart classrooms, and supported marriages of underprivileged girls. “Being rich in money is not real wealth. Richness in values is,” he emphasised.

Khela’s biggest concern was Punjab’s increasing migration rates. “Earlier, migration was about necessity. Today, it has become fashion. This is dangerous,” he warned. He urged Punjabis to keep their roots intact, proposing a movement, “Ikk baahr, ikk andar”—one child abroad, one in Punjab.

“If we do not act now, our future generations will one day walk through a migrant workers-owned Punjab as tourists,” he said.

From mixing Coke with milk just to survive to building a multimillion-dollar business empire, Amarjit Khela’s journey is one of resilience, hardship, and triumph. The kitchen hand who once scrubbed dishes is now a business tycoon—proof that determination can defy destiny.