Your “Home Language”: Not Rustic, but a Forgotten Treasure

Have you ever had one of those moments?

When calling family, you habitually tend to speak in Hindi or English, because it feels more “proper” or “formal”; at a friends’ gathering, hearing someone speak in their regional language, you might silently label it as “unrefined” or “old-fashioned” in your mind; even when asked, “Do you speak your home language?” you might sheepishly reply, “A little bit, but I’m not fluent anymore.”

We all seem to have tacitly accepted a fact: Hindi or English is “the language,” while our mother tongues—those familiar home languages we grew up hearing—are merely “dialects.” An existence that sounds secondary, less important.

But is that really the truth?

A Story About a “Secret Recipe”

Let’s look at this issue from a different perspective.

Imagine your grandmother has a “secret recipe for braised pork” passed down through generations. The taste of this dish is one of your warmest childhood memories. Later, your parents’ generation grew up and moved to different cities, perhaps Mumbai, Chennai, or Kolkata. They adjusted your grandmother’s recipe slightly based on local tastes: relatives in one city added a bit more sugar, making it sweeter; relatives in another added a special sauce for a richer flavour; and those in yet another added some bean paste and Sichuan peppercorns, making it spicy and aromatic.

These modified versions of braised pork, though each tasting different, all stemmed from your grandmother’s “secret recipe.” Each one was delicious, carrying the unique story and emotion of a family branch.

Now, a large chain restaurant has launched a standardised “national braised pork.” It tastes good, is uniform across the country, and is convenient and quick. For efficiency and standardisation, schools, companies, and television are all promoting this “standard version.”

Gradually, everyone started feeling that only this “standard version” was the real, presentable braised pork. And those sweet, savoury, or spicy “family heirloom versions” were considered mere “home-cooked meals,” not “professional” enough, or even a bit “downmarket.” Over time, the younger generation only knew the taste of the standard version, and Grandma’s secret recipe and those creative modified versions slowly faded away.

Doesn’t this story sound rather unfortunate?

In fact, our “dialects” are those unique, history-rich “family heirloom braised pork dishes.” And Mandarin (or Hindi/English in our context) is that efficient, standardised “national version.”

Languages like Minnan, Cantonese, Wu, Hakka (or in India, Bengali, Tamil, Marathi, Punjabi)… they are not merely “regional variations” of Mandarin (or Hindi). They are languages that developed in parallel over the long course of history, also stemming from ancient Chinese. They are like different branches growing vigorously on a large family tree, not just small twigs off the main trunk.

Calling Minnan a “Chinese dialect” is like calling Spanish or French a “Latin dialect.” From a linguistic perspective, the differences between them have long reached the level of “language” versus “language,” not “language” versus “dialect.”

Losing a “Dish,” What Do We Lose?

When a “family heirloom dish” disappears, we lose more than just a taste.

We lose the sight of Grandma busy in the kitchen, we lose that unique family memory, we lose an emotional connection that cannot be replicated by a “standard version.”

Similarly, when a “dialect” declines, we lose much more than just a communication tool.

In Penang, Malaysia, the local Minnan (known as “Penang Hokkien”) faces such a predicament. Generations of Chinese immigrants there used their language to blend with local culture, creating unique vocabulary and expressions. That was not just a tool for communication, but a vehicle for their identity and cultural heritage. But with the popularisation of English and Mandarin, fewer and fewer young people can speak it fluently.

The disappearance of a language is like the last page being torn from a family history book. All those witty remarks, ancient proverbs, and unique senses of humour that could only be precisely expressed in that language will vanish with it. That emotional bond with our ancestors also becomes blurred.

Reclaiming Your “Secret Recipe” is a Source of Pride

Fortunately, more and more people are beginning to realise the preciousness of these “family secret recipes.” Just like those young people in Penang who are striving to record and promote Hokkien, they are not being old-fashioned; they are guarding a treasure.

Nor do we need to choose between our “home language” and “Mandarin/Hindi.” This is not an “either-or” battle at all. Mastering Mandarin (or Hindi/English) allows us to communicate with a wider world, while reconnecting with our home language allows us to understand more deeply who we are and where we come from.

This is a much cooler form of “bilingualism”—being able to handle the propriety of the official language and also revel in the intimacy of your regional tongue.

So, the next time you call your family, try conversing in your home language. The next time you hear someone speak in a regional tongue, try to appreciate its unique beauty. If you have children, teach them a few simple phrases in your home language; it’s as important as teaching them their own names.

That is not “backward”; that is your root, your unique cultural imprint.

In this era of globalisation, we are more connected to the world than ever. But sometimes, the furthest distance is precisely that between us and our closest culture. Fortunately, technology can also be a bridge. For instance, when you want to share family stories with relatives abroad but worry about language barriers, chat tools with built-in AI translation, like Intent, can help you overcome initial communication barriers. It’s not meant to replace language itself, but to build the first bridge of communication, allowing those lost “family secret recipes” to be re-shared and heard.

Don’t let your most precious “family secret recipe” be lost in your generation.

Starting today, proudly tell people: “I speak two languages: Mandarin/Hindi, and my home language.”