Raj Bindesh Patel

Raj was like a little brother—my nano bhai. Raj was born in Kenya in October 1999, after my family had already moved to Australia. From the moment Raj arrived in Melbourne in 2005, I noticed that whilst he was absolutely adorable, he had this cheeky but charming spark about him. Raj had one of the sharpest wits of anyone I've known. He always knew exactly what to say, and more importantly, exactly how far he could push things before someone told him to stop. Whether we were playing board games especially monopoly, cards, watching movies, getting stuck into HSPs or spending Christmas day/New Years together, he always had a comment ready. Sometimes outrageous. Sometimes cringeworthy, always funny. He had a unique talent for walking right up to the line and somehow never quite crossing it. And because of that, being around Raj was always entertaining. If there was a room full of people, chances were Raj would become the centre of it before long. Not because he demanded attention, but because people were naturally drawn to him. He was charismatic, genuine and effortlessly funny. He made people feel comfortable. He could strike up a conversation with almost anyone and leave them in hysterics a few minutes later. Of course, a lot of us also remember Raj during his university years. Let's just say he knew how to enjoy himself. He was definitely a party animal in those days. If music was playing and he'd had a few drinks, it wouldn't be long before he was on the dance floor doing cricket bowling actions to bollywood songs as if he was doing gharba. And the thing about Raj was that he didn't care what anyone thought. He wasn't trying to impress people. He was simply enjoying life to the fullest and encouraging everyone around him to do the same. But one thing I really want to acknowledge today is how much Raj grew over the last few years. While he always had that fun-loving side, he matured tremendously after university. He found a genuine passion in his career and discovered work that truly excited him. Many of us spend our lives searching for something that gives us purpose; Raj had found it. He talked about it, thought about it, and lived and breathed it. You could see the pride he had in what he was doing and the excitement he felt for the future. He was building something for himself. He had found his footing. That's one of the reasons this loss feels so unfair. Raj was only 26 years old. He had already achieved so much, but it felt like he was only just getting started. He still had so many adventures left to take, so many goals left to chase, and so many memories left to create. And Raj loved creating memories. He loved fishing. He loved camping. He loved riding his dirt bike and He loved his Hilux, even if it was bogged. He loved getting outdoors. He approached everything with enthusiasm and curiosity. Something that a few of us have realised over the years is how few photos Raj has taken on his adventures. Most of us spend our lives trying to capture every moment on our phones. Raj was different. He wasn't interested in documenting life. He was interested in living it. In fact, when he went to Japan, we expected him to come back with hundreds of photos of famous landmarks, food and all the places he'd visited. Instead, he somehow return with absolutely no photos at all, but bags full of every Kit Kat flavour ever invented. He wanted to experience things properly. To be present. To enjoy the conversation, the scenery, the company, the moment itself, and most importantly the laughter and banter. And in a way, I think that's a lesson all of us can take from him. One memory that is incredibly special to Meera and me is that, outside of the two of us, Raj was the very first person to meet our daughter, even before our parents. At the time it felt like a lovely moment. Looking back now, it feels like a gift. Of all the people in the world, Raj was the first to welcome her, and I'm so grateful that he'll always be part of that chapter of our family's story. Perhaps the thing I'll miss most about Raj, though, is not the jokes, the dancing, the stories, or even the adventures. It's his heart. Raj was always there to help when people needed him. He gave his time and attention generously and unconditionally. He was someone you could rely on. Someone who showed up. Someone who made life brighter simply by being in it. When someone leaves us this young, it's easy to focus on everything they haven't yet had the chance to do. But today, I think it's important to remember everything he did do. The friendships he built. The laughs he shared. The memories he created. The lives he touched. Twenty-six years feels far too short, but Raj made every one of those years count. Hearing all the stories and the support we’ve received since 5 August 2026, I can't help but think Raj has won Monopoly one last time. Not because he owned the most properties, but because he spent 26 years collecting something far more valuable: friendships, memories, laughter and love. And judging by the number of people whose lives he touched, he absolutely cleared the board. We will miss his humour. We will miss his stories. We will miss his cheeky remarks. We will miss watching him walk into a room and instantly lift the energy of everyone around him. Most of all, we will miss him. Raj, thank you for being such an incredible cousin, friend, and little brother. We are proud of the man you became, grateful for the memories you gave us, and heartbroken that you were taken from us so soon. You will always be loved. You will always be remembered. And for me, you will always be my little brother. Rest easy, nano bhai!