Community Members Spill the Chai on Preserving Cultural Roots by Passing Their Mother Tongue to the Next Generation.

It’s no secret—language is the thread that binds generations, weaving together emotion, identity, and heritage. As parents raise the next generation in an ever-evolving world, the desire to pass down cultural roots and philosophies remains a powerful instinct. In this feature, I speak with six community members, including parents and teachers, to explore how they preserve their mother tongue and traditions, nurturing a sense of belonging in their children and students.

LAXSHMI SACHATHEP

Entrepreneur, MISB School Director

When my daughter Anoop was born, my husband and I made a conscious decision: her first words would be in Punjabi. Though I was born and raised speaking it, it’s my husband who speaks Punjabi more fluently. His confidence became my strength, and together we’ve created a home where Punjabi is the heart of our daily life.

Now two years old, Anoop already understands and uses Punjabi for most of her basic needs. It hasn’t been without challenges. Living in Bangkok after spending some time in Canada, we found very few children’s books or resources in Punjabi. I’ve had to turn to online videos and songs, and lean on cousins and family members to keep her immersed in the language. One unexpected issue we’ve encountered is in her early schooling. Anoop often responds to her playgroup teacher in Punjabi—sweet, but confusing for her teacher who doesn’t understand it. Still, I believe this is a temporary phase. English and Thai will come naturally from school and surroundings. But Punjabi? That’s our responsibility. We use Punjabi in every interaction, from asking for milk to sharing bedtime stories. YouTube cartoons in Punjabi, and her mimicry of her older cousin sisters, have also helped.

My biggest hope is that Anoop remains proud of who she is: Indian, Punjabi, and Sikh. I want her to connect deeply with our traditions, understand Gurbani in its original form, and never feel like a stranger to her roots. Punjabi is more than a language—it is the essence of our heritage, echoing through our music, values, and spiritual roots. To other parents: don’t be afraid to lead with your mother tongue at home. The world will teach your child many things, but their roots, their language, must come from you.

HARSHPREET KAUR

Digital Marketer

Teaching our child Punjabi and Hindi is our way of keeping him connected to his roots while giving him the gift of speaking more than one language. It’s not always easy—English dominates schools, screens, and daily life.

We often explain that language is about connecting with people and expressing yourself so if he learns more than one language, he can connect with more people. We keep it fun at home through conversations, playful role plays (scenarios like hailing a cab), and celebrating moments when he proudly translates something for family members.

Alongside local weekend classes, books (Naveen Punjabi or Hindi stories), and movies (family-oriented Hindi and Punjabi films), we also make trips to India to immerse him in the language naturally.

NAINA MANCHANDA

Graduate Student, Substitute Teacher

Regardless of where we live, our culture and language remain an essential part of who we are. Growing up in Thailand, being immersed in Punjabi and Sikh traditions, I feel a strong desire to pass this heritage on to my daughters, Ashira and Samaira. Fortunately, in California, we live near the Riverside Gurdwara, which offers a Khals School every Sunday. The program teaches both the Punjabi language and Sikh culture. Not only did I enroll my daughters in the school, but I also joined as a volunteer teacher to be more involved in their learning journey and as a part of Sewa. Khalsa School offers a well-rounded experience

Children learn shabads, explore Sikh history and values, and study Gurmukhi script. Each Sunday begins with a morning assembly where students sing shabads, starting with Deh Shiva —a shabad I fondly remember learning during my school days. They also learn a new shabad each month. The principal shares information about upcoming Sikh events and encourages cultural connection. After the assembly, students are placed in appropriate academic levels, ranging from beginner to advanced. The entire program is interactive and engaging, which keeps students, including my girls, excited to participate.

While I remain with the Baalwadi (beginner) class as a volunteer, my daughters move up a grade level each year. As the levels advance, the academic material becomes more challenging. The teachers conduct lessons entirely in Punjabi, using an accent rooted in Punjab, which differs from the accent I grew up with in Thailand. At times even I struggle to understand!

My husband and I raise our daughters with the value of independence and encourage them to make their own decisions. While there are times, they choose not to attend class, they never miss the morning assembly. That alone speaks volumes about the connection they feel to their culture.

HARPRITY SINGHBUNSIRI and REENA SETHI

Teachers, Founders of Peak of Punjabi

In today’s fast-paced world, holding onto one’s cultural roots is more important than ever—and language lies at the heart of that connection. This is why we started Peak of Punjabi, a fresh and spirited language school in Bangkok. Founded in August 2023, the centre is reimagining how Punjabi is taught to Thai-Indian children, blending tradition with creativity and joy.

At Peak of Punjabi, language learning is not limited to grammar and vocabulary; it becomes a vibrant cultural experience. The school’s mission is clear: to nurture a love for the Punjabi language in the next generation through meaningful engagement, imaginative tools, and consistent exposure. As our motto says, “Gurmukhi is our aim.” This allows for children to be more engaged and connected throughout the sessions they have; therefore, the learning experience becomes memorable and enjoyable without any sacrifice of knowledge or fun

What sets Peak of Punjabi apart is its dynamic, game-based approach to teaching. Children don’t just memorise, they participate. With self-designed flashcards, memory games, and Sikh-themed activities, each class becomes a space of discovery. The result? A classroom filled with laughter, learning, and lively connection to one’s roots. Students not only pick up language skills but also deepen their spiritual and cultural understanding, one playful lesson at a time.

Whether it’s through Punjabi poems, cultural songs, art projects, or interactive games, Peak of Punjabi is making the language come alive. The school isn’t just a tuition centre. It’s a growing cultural movement.

Peak of Punjabi is making sure to not only implement learning in classes but also allow for students to learn and enjoy Punjabi outside of class sessions. They do that with the help of “Peak of Punjabi Educational Games,” which include handmade Flashcards and Gurmukhi Alphabet Pull and Stick Mat. More and more Punjabi families are enrolling their children, not just to learn the language, but to fall in love with it.

DR. NUPOOR RAWLE

Consulting Homeopath, Registered Yoga Teacher

Majhi Matrubhasha: My Mother Tongue

We hail from Maharashtra, India, and like many Maharashtrians, my husband and I naturally converse with each other and our children in Marathi. My daughter, Nysa, now eight years old, was an excellent Marathi speaker until she turned five. What changed at five? She started school. The child who once spoke nothing but Marathi was suddenly fluent in English. Her friends spoke English, her teachers taught in English, and she spent 6–7 hours a day immersed in lessons in it. It wasn’t a preference—it was convenient. Next came our son, Kushagra, now three and a half. He began speaking in Marathi, and when we enrolled him in nursery nine months ago, he continued in Marathi. But gradually, he picked up English from his sister while fully speaking Marathi to us. Now, he speaks English peppered with a few Marathi words. At home, he still responds in Marathi occasionally, but English is becoming more dominant. I understand. They speak English with everyone outside the family, so it has naturally become their main language. But the Maharashtrian in me yearns to hear Marathi in our home, to preserve the soul of our culture through our mother tongue.

So, what do we do?

• We recite our evening prayers in Marathi.

• We insist our children call us Aai and Baba, not “Mom” and “Dad.”

• Our daughter is enrolled in the world language program for Hindi (which shares its script with Marathi), giving her access to Marathi literature.

• We celebrate our festivals with traditional attire and cuisine, firmly believing that language is woven into the fabric of culture.

• We take them to Marathi theatre productions, play Bollywood and Marathi songs, and tell them Marathi is our secret family code language—just for us.

Even when they don’t reply in Marathi, we continue to speak with them. We’ve had to let go of the expectation of exclusive mother-tongue communication, but we’re proud that they understand it, cherish Maharashtrian cuisine, and still lovingly call us Aai and Baba.