When the pager buzzes, Karthick Thanigaimani could be anywhere, at dinner with his family or winding down after a day in IT. The sound cuts through ordinary life. In seconds, he trades a keyboard for boots and joins the frontline of Victoria’s volunteer firefighters. He doesn’t do it for the drama or for medals. “It was a calling,” he says. “A quiet but persistent urge to contribute in a meaningful way.”
It began nearly a decade ago with the Country Fire Authority. Since then, Karthick has responded to everything from local grassfires to the brutal 2019 to 2020 bushfire season. “Each event tested my limits, taught me something new, and deepened my commitment,” he says. His story is one of contrasts, stitched together not by spectacle but by an ethic of service that spills across roles. First responder. Justice of the Peace. Mental health advocate. Cultural organiser. Father.
When asked why he keeps doing it, the answer is simple. “What keeps me going isn’t recognition or reward, it’s the indescribable feeling of purpose that comes from helping others when they need it most.”
Not every emergency is visible. During COVID, he took on extra duties with the State Emergency Services and mental health foundations. “Being a first responder is not only physically demanding but sometimes it takes a real mental toll,” he says. “I saw how important it is to have support networks in place.” This led him to work with the Mental Health Foundation, where his focus included raising awareness in migrant communities and encouraging more men to talk. “It’s perfectly okay to not be okay,” he says. “Seeking support is a sign of strength.”
He’s part of a growing quiet majority that doesn’t wait to be asked. He just shows up, whether it’s to manage a local fundraiser or witness a statutory declaration. His work as a Justice of the Peace began with the desire to be useful in everyday situations. “I was drawn to the idea of being someone local people could turn to, not in an emergency, but in quieter, everyday moments when they need support.” He’s even built a website to make it easier for people to reach him.
The skills and values carry over from one role to the next. The steadiness needed to certify a document is not unlike the calm needed when arriving at the scene of a crash. “Every incident is different,” he says. “Often we don’t have the full picture until we’re on scene. That uncertainty becomes part of the training, we learn to adapt, to think quickly, to support one another no matter what lies ahead.”
Volunteering, he adds, “has enriched me personally and professionally, helped me mingle with a different set of people, shaping how I handle challenges, relate to others, and find purpose beyond the workplace.”
It’s changed the rhythm of family life too. “My wife, Ranjani, and our children, Adarsh and Trinay, have been my constant support, they understand the calling, even when it pulls me away at the most unexpected times.” The kids have picked up the thread. “They light up at the sight of the big red trucks,” he says. “And sometimes, when the pager goes off or a siren echoes in the distance, they’ll look at me and say, ‘Dad, you have to go, it’s an emergency.’”
That kind of buy-in from family is no small thing. “Yes, there are moments of worry, especially during high-risk deployments or uncertain times like the COVID pandemic, but that worry is always wrapped in love and understanding.” It’s no surprise they join him at Good Friday Appeals and other public events. “Volunteering brings us together,” he says. “It’s about balance, communication, and shared purpose.”
He’s careful about that word, balance. “I’m mindful of not overcommitting,” he adds. “I make sure to set clear boundaries. I plan and prioritise based on what’s most important at the time, and I ensure work as well as family comes first.”
That grounding helps during difficult moments. “There are a couple of incidents that still come to mind,” he admits, though he doesn’t go into detail. His response? Stay focused on the bigger picture. “Every effort, no matter how small, contributes to keeping others safe.”
For someone who could be forgiven for doing less, he keeps adding more. Aside from firefighting, emergency response and mental health advocacy, he’s also active in cultural events and local food drives. “There are plenty of opportunities to volunteer in Australia,” he says. “I’m also part of other not-for-profit organisations like the ones donating food for the needy or providing basic skills and education.”
He’s clear-eyed about what volunteering requires and what it gives. “It offers a rare kind of fulfilment,” he says. “The knowledge that you’ve made a difference, however small, in someone’s life.” It might be turning up to assist with a fire, or helping someone feel less alone. Or it might be a quiet legal witness in the middle of an ordinary day.
He doesn’t feel the need to overstate the migrant angle either. “I don’t really think there’s a big gap between how migrants are perceived and the contributions we make,” he says. “From my experience, I’ve seen many people quietly dedicating themselves to supporting the community in meaningful ways.”
If he has one message for anyone unsure about how to begin, it’s this: “Start small. Whether that’s volunteering a few hours, joining a local group, or just helping a neighbour. Often the hardest part is taking that first step.” And if they need help finding their feet? “Please reach out to me,” he says. “I’d be happy to help in the best way I can.”
That spirit, the instinct to be useful, runs through everything. From fireground to form-signing, the through line is the same. “Whether it’s protecting lives, preserving traditions, or fostering community spirit, giving back has been the heartbeat of my journey.” And he isn’t done yet.
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