A student visa. A forged passport. A body buried in mango soil.

Arjun Ajith Nair didn't mean to vanish-he just meant to survive. He arrived in Australia with a duffel bag, a bank loan stitched in desperation, and a $90 customs fine for undeclared garlic pickle. Three years later, he's fleeing Broome with blood on his hands, encrypted files in his sock, and a fake Timorese identity burning in his back pocket.

From orchard exploitation and migrant debt traps to whistleblower blackmail and international escape, Brown Skin, White Lies is a fugitive's ledger-told in staccato chapters, encrypted fragments, and the lyrical debris of a life unravelled.

Along the way, Arjun moves through detention-threatened farms, shared housing in Thomastown, a digital sting operation on Grey Street, and a final reckoning in a rusted radar station east of Broome. From Bali to Beirut, he learns that identity is a currency, and truth comes with transaction fees.

This is not a redemption arc. It's a survival manual for the undocumented, the underpaid, and the disappeared. It's about the lies we tell-not just to belong-but to breathe.