The quiet suburb of Albert Park is at the centre of a growing dispute that touches on faith, urban change, and the boundaries of neighbourhood harmony. A petition lodged with Port Phillip Council is calling for the relocation of a kitchen operated by the Hare Krishna temple, citing complaints about traffic, waste, and early morning noise.
The Age reported over the weekend that the temple, run by the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON), has become the subject of contention after decades of peaceful presence. Residents argue the kitchen’s scale no longer suits a residential area. The temple, though, says it’s continuing the work it has always done—serving devotees and Melbourne’s vulnerable.
The temple on Danks Street has served Melbourne’s Indian community for nearly five decades. It was established long before the surrounding terrace homes soared past the $4 million mark. Over the years, the site became a lifeline. The temple’s kitchen now feeds its devotees and thousands through its Food For Life program—a free vegetarian meal initiative serving those facing hardship, food insecurity, or homelessness across the city.
Hinduism treats food not as an afterthought, but as worship. Prasadam—the sacred offering of food to the deity, then served to the community—is a central part of religious life. To separate the kitchen from the temple is to unweave the ritual from the religion. For those unfamiliar with this, a busy kitchen may appear commercial. But for those raised in the tradition, it is as essential as the altar.
Port Phillip Council is now conducting a legal review of the kitchen’s planning status, with a vote due in June. The site has what is known in planning law as an “existing use right,” meaning it can continue religious activities as it did before zoning laws changed. The complexity arises when the scope of that activity expands. If a kitchen was once small and now serves thousands, does that constitute a change of use? Council officers are tasked with interpreting this distinction.
But this story is not unique. In suburbs across Melbourne, places of worship—particularly those connected to migrant communities—are increasingly clashing with residential expectations. From gurdwaras to mosques to temples, the pattern repeats. Bells and stained-glass windows are considered part of suburbia. Early morning bhajans or incense drifting through the air? Suddenly, it’s a planning issue.
Census figures show that Hinduism is one of Australia’s fastest-growing religions, rising by over 55% in the past decade. The Indian-born population in Port Phillip has grown by more than 30% in the same period. And yet, as demographic realities shift, infrastructure has not always kept pace. Many temples operate in residential zones because that was the only land affordable or available when they were founded. As land values rise, so do complaints—and not always in good faith.
The council has acknowledged receiving reports about odour and waste but, to date, inspections have found no food safety violations. A single waste spill in 2022 was documented, but otherwise, there is no record of health breaches. Despite this, the pressure continues. The petition claims the kitchen feels “industrial,” that early morning activity disturbs the peace, and that what was once a place of worship is now an operational hub.
But is feeding the hungry outside the bounds of worship?
Relocating the kitchen is not simply a logistical hurdle—it would strike at the heart of the temple’s daily function. Devotees attend early prayer, offer meals to the deity, then serve the same food to others. This loop of giving, receiving, and sharing is a form of bhakti in action. To move that kitchen to a factory unit or industrial estate would not only isolate the operation but weaken the connection between service and spirituality.
ISKCON Australia reported $24.4 million in revenue in 2023, largely from donations and food-related activity. But moving a kitchen of this scale could cost millions. And even if funding were found, would relocating silence opposition—or merely shift discomfort to another postcode?
What’s happening in Albert Park is not just a neighbourhood dispute. It is a test of whether Australian cities, in their rush to modernise and gentrify, can still make room for sacred routines that don’t always look or sound familiar. Devotion isn’t always quiet. Nor is it always scented with eucalyptus. Sometimes, it smells like turmeric.
The council’s review may hinge on planning codes, but the deeper question is about belonging—and whether a house of worship that’s stood for 50 years still has a place in the city it helped feed and shape.
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🏡#AlbertPark's #HareKrishna temple faces relocation petition over kitchen operations.🍛Devotees defend sacred food service feeding 1000s.⚖️Council review underway as clash highlights tensions between faith practices & gentrifying suburbs. #TheIndianSunhttps://t.co/iS2rUcmYkt
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