- Saurabh was heading out of a chemist when he noticed a group of teenagers on a bench and paid them no mind
- Before he knew it, five teens had surrounded him in an alleyway and he was shoved into a brick wall
- The violence took a turn for the worst when Saurabh, struggling to stand in pain, saw a manchette pulled on him
Here Saurabh Anand, 34, Melbourne, Vic, tells his story in his own words.
Walking towards Central Square Shopping Centre in Altona Meadows, Vic, I headed for the chemist.
It was July 2025, and I’d had a fever and cough for a couple of days.
As I walked, I dialled my best mate to make plans for the following day.
After paying for my medicine, I stepped out the sliding doors of the pharmacy and noticed a group of teenagers on a bench. I didn’t pay them much mind as I turned down an alley between the shops, chatting to my mate as I went.
I’d made it about halfway when I heard footsteps behind me. Seconds later I was surrounded by five teens.
‘I don’t want any trouble,’ I said. I tried to push past them to escape, but before I could get away, one of them reached into my hoodie pocket, rifling through it.
‘Don’t do that,’ I said, shoving his hand away.
Suddenly, hands slammed into my back, and I was shoved from behind into the brick wall.
As I stumbled, fists rained down on my head and body. My phone, which was still connected to the call, fell to the ground and one of the teens grabbed it.
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Each blow felt like a sledgehammer. I crumpled to the footpath, adrenaline drowning out the pain. As I struggled to stand, disoriented, one of them pulled out a machete. It took a second to register what I was seeing. Then the blade moved towards my throat.
Oh my God, I’m going to die, I panicked, terrified.
As the teen drew back the weapon, I threw my arms up to shield my face. The blade came down hard on my left forearm and blood sprayed across my face, as pain exploded through me. A second swing sliced through my wrist. A third struck bone, as I screamed in agony.
‘Oh my God, I’m going to die‘.
Half-concussed, I heard the slap of footsteps as the teens fled, laughing.
Looking at the bloody mangled mess of my left arm, I was horrified. My hand was almost severed, hanging by a thread. Bone protruded through torn flesh and the pain came in violent waves.
Taking off my beanie, I used it to stem the flow of gushing blood. Using my right hand to hold my left, I tried to stop it from completely detaching.
I couldn’t feel my wrist or fingers. With my phone and wallet gone I couldn’t call for help.
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I thought of my mum, Kiran, 58. We’d lost my father to illness in 2010. I didn’t want her to lose her son too. With what little strength I had left, I staggered out of the alley, terrified my attackers would return.
‘Help… please help me,’ I moaned, but there was no-one in sight.
Finally, a uni student heading into Subway saw me. Propping me on a bench, he raced into the sandwich shop, returning with towels to help stem the bleeding.
I held them tightly to my open wound, while my rescuer, Josh, called Emergency.
‘Help is coming,’ he promised.
Then I passed out. When I came to, I was in the Royal Melbourne Hospital, surrounded by doctors.
‘Help is coming’.
‘Your hand was nearly severed,’ one told me. ‘We may have to amputate.’
The thought of losing my hand was devastating.
For more than five hours, surgeons worked to piece it together, sewing severed tendons and fixing shattered bones with screws.
When I woke, my arm was heavily bandaged. I was so happy they’d saved it.
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From my hospital bed, I called Mum in India. When I’d missed my regular call with her, and she’d seen news of the attack on television, she’d had a gut feeling it was me.
‘I was so worried about you,’ she cried.
‘I’ll book you a flight,’ I promised.
I spent a week on bed rest as my wound dressing was changed daily. I had more than 100 stitches, head injuries, lacerations to my left shoulder and upper back, and a lacerated spleen.
‘You’ll need further surgery once you regain strength,’ doctors said, as I was discharged the following week.
‘I was so worried about you’.
Three days later, Mum arrived. As she wrapped her arms around me, it hit me how close I’d come to dying. ‘Thank you for coming,’ I said.
‘Of course, my son,’ Mum replied. She helped me dress, eat and clean my home.
Four teenagers were charged over the attack, and dealt with in the Children’s Court of Victoria.
The youngest, who led the attack, was just 14.

He pleaded guilty to armed robbery and recklessly causing serious injury and, in December 2025, was handed an 18-month youth supervision order. The second pleaded guilty to robbery and recklessly causing serious injury, and was given the same sentence.
The third pleaded guilty to robbery and recklessly causing serious injury and was given 12 months probation. The fourth pleaded guilty to robbery and intentionally causing injury and was given six months probation.
I was crushed. It felt unfair that those who took so much from me could be back in the community.
Six months on, I’ve lost about 80 per cent of the sensation in my left arm, hand and fingers. I live with excruciating daily pain and attend weekly rehab to relearn movement.
I’ve had to leave my job as a sales representative.

When I close my eyes at night, I still see them surrounding me. But I’m determined not to let this attack define me.
In September last year, as a result of my attack and other machete-related incidents around the state, the Victorian government fast-tracked a law to prohibit the sale or possession of the weapons.
In January, I reconnected with Josh through a GoFundMe my friends set up to help with my recovery.
‘Thank you for saving my life,’ I told him.
My mum is my guiding light. Without her I don’t think I’d ever make it out of this darkness.
For now, I’m taking small steps every day and for that I am grateful.
To find Saurabh’s GoFundMe, head to the link: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-the-victim-of-altona-meadows-machete-attack