India, explained.
Anthony Albanese, Prime Minister of Australia, right, speaks along side Narendra Modi, Prime Minister of India, during a visit to the Melbourne Cricket Ground on 10 July 2026 in Melbourne, Australia (Daniel Pockett/Getty Images for Cricket Australia)
The pageantry of the Indian PM’s visit worked as designed – it delivered on deals and left harder questions unasked.
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My Melbourne lunch with ModiMy Melbourne lunch with Modi
In the five-kilometre journey from my place to the MCG, Uber driver Dhananjay and I covered a lot of ground: conditions for small businesses in India, corruption, youth unemployment, increasing drug use rates, and more.
Dhananjay is the very model of the ideal migrant from India: highly qualified with a master’s degree in engineering from an Australian university, a business owner employing several people, and plans to expand to a new state.
It was Friday and I was on my way to a lunch in honour of Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, hosted by the Australian Prime Minister’s Office, at the MCG, after an appearance on the pitch to announce the new sports roadmap (Opens in new window), and the last agenda item before Modi headed to New Zealand.
As we made our way to Gate 2, Dhananjay needed little convincing to tell me how he feels about Modi. He was, notably, not one of the flag-waving saffron-clad people at the Marvel Stadium diaspora event on Thursday evening in Melbourne.
He told me about his anger and sadness over the recent leaking (Opens in new window)of the punishingly difficult national medical school entrance exam, the NEET exam, that directly led to at least a dozen suicides, the rise in youth unemployment and what he feels is a corresponding rise in youth drug use, spiking corruption and concerns around excessive nationalism. “The economy is down, a hell of a lot down.” Dhananjay is devoted to making it work in Australia.
The Marvel Stadium Indian-diaspora event on Thursday evening in Melbourne (@narendramodi/X)
Inside the Long Room were about 150 people. One woman frowned at me, eyeing my phone, which I swiftly put away. The dress code was business attire or national dress, but very few saris were visible, mostly dark suits. Other guests included politicians from all levels of government, diplomats, members of the business community including local-level businesspeople, lawyers, community leaders, sportspeople, even a Young Australian of the Year, I’m told.
My table featured diplomats, AFL heavyweights, a politician, a business leader and some community representatives. Some had been to the stadium event the previous night and marvelled at the Indian community’s willingness to wait for hours in the cold and then shout, wail, sing and dance in honour of the Indian leader. “I mean who would do that for a politician? Not Australians!” They said it admirably, with a touch of awe, even amid some debate about the true size of crowd touted.
The stadium events synonymous with Modi’s visits around the world are functional in a number of ways: the colour, movement and crowds ensure media coverage, and also serve as a useful distraction: when there are thousands of people chanting Modi’s name, who needs to probe the details too carefully? But this discussion point was carefully sidestepped as we waited for Modi, sipping soft drinks (there was no alcohol). Instead, we talked up the potential of the India-Australia relationship. “There’s so much potential,” I heard, numerous times.
And there certainly is: for example, the AFL is working to galvanise more players from diverse communities in Australia, while also aiming to spread the game’s popularity in India (Opens in new window), where they’d like to see 100,000 players (currently, there are around 10,000). In Melbourne, there’s excitement over plans for a Little India in the Docklands area. Seated next to me, MCG CEO Stuart Fox said that tours of the ground are extremely popular with Indian visitors. “Sometimes they even get down and kiss the pitch.”
This was no hollow and easily forgettable announceable, but rather one that starts the practical plans for sending Australian uranium to India.
We all stood up as the prime ministers walked in, making their way to a long table running down the centre of the room. We sat down and the meal was served – crab for starters, barramundi in a red curry sauce for main. “I’m so glad to see some spice on the plate,” remarked one of the AFL crew, grinning. “Usually, it’s some kind of butter sauce.”
There was no sign of a speech, which confused me: were we invited there to watch Modi eat? I’d also been secretly hoping that there may be an opportunity to ask a question. Modi famously avoids press conferences (Opens in new window), but occasionally a daring journalist lobs a question his way. (For what it’s worth, given the chance, I would have asked where Australia fits into India’s strategic non-alignment, and whether it’s an opportunistic relationship. I would not ask who he’d shag-marry-date (Opens in new window).)
Modi sat opposite Albanese, his translator perched by his side, and they appeared to be talking animatedly. They were there for about 45 minutes, and after eating, we were instructed to stand while the leaders and their entourages left, out the closest door and into the stands. There were no selfies, no speeches.
Understandably, it had been a busy 24 hours: numerous deals were inked (Opens in new window) during the short visit, the centrepiece being a plan to further the nuclear trade deal announced in 2014 (which I wrote about at the time (Opens in new window)). This was no hollow and easily forgettable announceable, but rather one that starts the practical plans for sending Australian uranium to India. Whatever your position on the trade in uranium, it is notable that the government waited for India to update its nuclear policy – via the 2025 SHANTI Act (Opens in new window) – for this development to happen.
I hung around for a while longer, chatting to people. One woman cut me off mid-sentence: “There’s Steve Waugh, I must say hello!” I talked to people working at the coalface of India’s diaspora, such as in Tarneit, western Melbourne, where it’s said that a quarter of the population is now Indian-born. I spoke to a woman who set up a network of 17,000 Indian-origin girls and women, to help give them a way to find each other, after experiencing loneliness in the early years of her Australian life.
Outside, while waiting for a taxi, I met Amar Singh, from Turbans 4 Australia, resplendent in a turquoise turban. He told me he is currently working to support Punjabi truck drivers, who are suffering widespread racism in truckie circles (Opens in new window). What did he think of the event, I asked, wondering if he too felt a bit bemused by the lack of ceremony. He shook his head and declared it excellent. “Getting all these people working on India in the same room, all from different walks was fantastic. Lawyers, businessmen, all different people,” he said. “These things never happen. They should organise more of these.”
About the author
Aarti Betigeri
Aarti Betigeri is a multi-platform journalist and former foreign correspondent with a keen interest in India.
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