Where Should My Ridiculous Ambitions Go?

Finding community at MADE IN KIN’s Meet In The Lobby event. Photography: Carlin Stephenson

Poet and writer Parth Rahatekar arrived in Australia carrying the same bold ambition that propelled their career in Mumbai. In this personal essay, they reflect on what happens when those dreams collide with a culture that can reward conformity over individuality.

Let me paint you a picture. None of it is fiction. Think of a 19-year-old stepping into one of the biggest, fastest cities in the world – a meagre allowance in the account, barely any connections to the industry, nor a mentor, which is essentially to say, not a lot. Except for wild, ridiculous ambition and, more importantly, the audacity to say it out loud. That was me in Mumbai, just shy of a decade ago. Dear reader, I tasted glory then.

Just speaking what I wanted into the world led to surreal situations. I was on film sets, assisting Bollywood superstars one day, interviewing Katy Perry the next, attending couture show openings the same night and then sourcing said couture for magazine cover shoots. I was living the life – all while I was still just interning.

Of course, I acknowledge the caste and class privileges that granted me access to these spaces to begin with. They’re the reason I could hold some ground that many are still denied. But it felt like the ambitions I carried weren’t mortifying – that those around me wanted to see my dreams come true with me. Mentors and magic. It led to really astronomical growth in India at a very young age.

Behind the scenes of a magazine cover shoot in Mumbai.

One of the most popular maxims in Mumbai is that “If you make it here, you can make it anywhere else in the world.” The truth behind that is that everyone there dares to dream big and isn’t polite about it. That gives you a kind of confidence that is mythical and well-earned, because you have to put in the work. Or be replaced.

But the city is also imperfect and extractive in many ways – of you and of many others who don’t come from the same privileges as you. So then, my wild ambition wanted more, but not in the way you think. I wanted an industry that valued rest and balance. That looked at me as more than a cog in the wheel. That left room for my life outside of work.

It led me to consider moving to Australia – a country my parents wanted to move to but were denied.

My parents celebrating my graduation in Naarm.

When this lucky country describes its ideal immigrant, it says a few things. Always hard working, definitely assimilating, ever thankful. I have realised what this is shorthand for: pliant. Unquestioning. Agreeable.

My immigrant ambition is none of these things.

It wants to be laden with plenty. It wants to expand, question and create. The astonishing ability of Australians to diminish ambition has confounded me. It has made me smaller.

Sure, in some ways, it has changed what I value. I didn’t come here to be the same person I was in Mumbai. For example, I value the balance the work culture here offers to some degree. I am growing to see the value of restraint.

But I feel burdened with shame when I want more. Why?

Me, two years into calling Naarm home.

When I ask this, the country echoes back with sermons of tall poppies and fair gos. It confounds me even further. I have learnt that Australians confuse ambition with dissatisfaction.

But isn’t it a profoundly human thing to invent something better, especially when you do it out of love?

I have also learned that if you say it loud enough times, life can give you some version of your dream – aided by privilege, but forged in unabashed gumption. And that generosity is generative – something I think we could all deserve a reminder of from time to time.

Behind the scenes of my portrait shoot for MADE IN KIN’s Creative Directory.

I look back at my 19-year-old self with so much reverence today. I left so much room for my audacity and ambition when I packed my bags to fly to Australia, yet this country has chipped away at it in the time I have lived here. I am bringing it back with some measured effort now.

I think of what my favourite poet, Ocean Vuong, said about queerness:

“Being queer saved my life. Often, we see queerness as deprivation. But when I look at my life, I see that queerness demanded an alternative innovation from me. I had to make alternative routes; it made me curious; it made me ask, ‘Is this enough for me?’”

My ambition, I believe, is a lot like this. It makes me demand more of myself. It keeps me alive.

My only question is: where in Australia can I will it into fruition?