From a Banyan Tree in India to a Scientist in Australia | A Journey of Hope, Resilience and Belonging | by Dr Prem Dwivedi | Story #248

I still remember leaving home on a bullock cart, carrying little more than hope, uncertainty, and a small bundle of belongings. As my village disappeared behind me, I had no idea what the future held. I was only thirteen years old. What I carried with me was far more valuable than anything packed in that small bundle. I carried my father's unwavering belief that education could change a life

I grew up in a small village in Uttar Pradesh, India. My first classroom had no walls. Beneath the broad branches of a banyan tree, my classmates and I sat on the ground with slates balanced on our knees while our teacher wrote lessons on a blackboard leaning against the trunk.

It was a simple classroom, yet it became the place where my future began.

My father had little formal education, but he possessed a wisdom that shaped my life. He believed wealth could disappear and land could be divided, but education was something no one could ever take away.

As the bullock cart rolled slowly along the dusty road, I looked back one last time. My mother stood outside our home, quietly wiping away her tears. My father said little, but I could see the emotion in his eyes. That image has never left me.

Father’s Quiet Dream

Leaving home was far harder than I had imagined. The world beyond my village felt enormous. I missed my family deeply, and there were days when loneliness almost made me give up. Whenever that happened, I remembered my parents' sacrifices. My mother quietly gave up her treasured possessions so her children could continue their education. My father never promised the journey would be easy. He simply believed that I could succeed.

His quiet confidence became my strength. Years later, I realised that every important decision I made had its roots in those early years. My education was never mine alone—it belonged to my entire family.

When Curiosity Found Science

Science entered my life through curiosity.

As a child, I wanted to understand why diseases affected people differently in my village. A teacher recognised that curiosity and encouraged me to ask questions rather than simply memorise answers. That simple encouragement changed the direction of my life. Science became less about learning facts and more about discovering what was still unknown.

After completing my master's degree in chemistry, I joined the Industrial Toxicology Research Centre in Lucknow to undertake my PhD. Research was both exciting and frustrating. Every discovery was built on countless experiments, unexpected failures, and patient persistence. Research taught me resilience as much as it taught me biomedical science.

Completing my PhD was a major milestone. Yet my greatest satisfaction came from knowing that it was made possible by my parents' faith in me and their many sacrifices.

Crossing Oceans

The year 1991 became a major turning point in my life.

Within a few months, my life changed dramatically. I received the Young Scientist Award, married Arti Mishra, and was offered a postdoctoral scientist at the Centre for Gene Technology, University of Auckland, New Zealand.

For a young scientist from a small village in northern India, it felt as though one dream after another was unfolding.
As my wife and I boarded our flight with just two suitcases, I reflected on how extraordinary the journey had already been. The boy who had once travelled by bullock cart was now flying across the world in pursuit of science.

Watching India disappear beneath the clouds, I felt excitement, gratitude, and uncertainty all at once. I was leaving everything familiar again, but this time I carried something I had not possessed as a frightened thirteen-year-old—confidence earned through education.

New Zealand felt like another world—beautiful, peaceful, remarkably clean, and far colder than anything I had ever experienced. I arrived knowing only one person: Professor Peter Bergquist, whose invitation had opened the door to my first international research career. Everyone else, and everything around me, was completely new.
Like every migrant, I had to begin again.

Learning molecular biology while adapting to a new culture stretched me in ways I had never expected. Those two years expanded not only my scientific knowledge but also my understanding of people, cultures, and the wider world.

Australia: Where Science and Life Found a Home

In 1993, another opportunity took us across the Tasman Sea to Brisbane. Two years later we settled in Adelaide, the city where we built our home, raised our family, and continued our journey.

Over the following decades, I built a career in biomedical science at the University of Adelaide and affiliated medical research institutes, publishing numerous scientific papers, mentoring young researchers, and contributing to advances in human health research. The laboratories became more sophisticated, and technology advanced beyond anything I could have imagined as a child. Yet one thing never changed—my belief that curiosity is the beginning of every discovery.

Australia gradually became much more than the country where I worked.

It became home.

Looking back, I could never have dreamed where that journey would lead. Today, my autobiography, The Unlikely Indian Migrant, has become a No. 1 Amazon bestseller in Australia. An even more humbling moment followed when excerpts were read in the Australian Senate during a discussion on social cohesion.

For a boy who once studied beneath a banyan tree, hearing my words enter Australia’s parliamentary record was beyond imagination.

The Banyan Tree that Never Left Me

People sometimes ask me how a village boy from India became a biomedical scientist in Australia.

The answer is simple. It began with curiosity, parents who believed in education, teachers who opened doors, and the courage to keep moving forward when my circumstances seemed uncertain and the path ahead was unknown.

Although my career has taken me across continents, I often return in memory to that village classroom beneath the banyan tree. Its roots remind me where I began, and its lessons continue to guide me.

My journey is not only a story of achievement; it is a story of education, resilience, family and belonging. I hope it reminds young people that their circumstances in the beginning do not have to define their future.

We never truly leave where we come from. Our roots travel with us, giving us strength to grow and bloom wherever life takes us.