Is India’s Obsession with English Killing Regional Languages in Classrooms?

Step into a typical classroom in any major Indian city today, and one thing which will be common is that English is everywhere. It’s the language of instruction, conversation, exams, and even casual jokes between students. From kindergarten to coaching classes, English isn’t just a subject, it’s in the atmosphere.

And it’s not hard to see why. English is linked to better jobs, higher education, and international mobility. It signals confidence, polish, and opportunity. In a country as diverse and unequal as India, English is a tool that can level the field.

But in building everything around that one tool, we’re slowly losing others. Our regional languages, the ones we grew up hearing at home, speaking with grandparents, using in street corners and stories are disappearing from schools. Not officially, maybe, but definitely in practice.

In many English-medium schools, regional languages are reduced to two classes a few times a week. Sometimes they’re offered only until Class 8 or as optional papers in exams. Often, they’re treated like a chore, something to get over with. You rarely see the same enthusiasm, resources, or training that’s poured into English.

Even when regional languages are part of the curriculum, they’re not really alive in the school environment. Morning assemblies are in English. Notices are in English. Teachers encourage kids to “speak in English only” even during breaks. Some schools even fine students for speaking in their mother tongue. The message is clear: English means success, and anything else is holding you back.

This hierarchy creates a subtle kind of shame. Kids start feeling awkward speaking in their own language. They switch to English even at home. They laugh at classmates who don’t sound fluent. Slowly, a language that once felt natural begins to feel embarrassing.

It’s not just about grammar or vocabulary. Language is emotional. It’s how we form memories, express feelings, and tell stories. When we push children to learn and think only in English, we risk cutting them off from their cultural identity. We flatten something that used to have depth, variety, and emotion.

According to the 2011 Census, India has 121 major languages and 270 smaller ones. But UNESCO lists 197 Indian languages as either endangered or vulnerable. And while there are many reasons for this including migration, politics, and social shifts, our education system plays a role too. When children don’t see their language respected in the classroom, they stop valuing it elsewhere.

This isn’t about turning away from English. That would be both unrealistic and unfair. English does open doors, especially in higher education and the global job market. The problem isn’t English but it’s how everything else gets pushed aside for it.

The real challenge is coexistence. Can we build classrooms where a child learns to write a perfect essay in English and read a poem in Hindi with the same fluency and pride? Can we create space for local literature, theatre, debate, and storytelling but not just tucked into one period a week, but across the school culture?

Some states and schools are trying. Bilingual teaching models are being tested. In Kerala and parts of Maharashtra, there’s been a push to bring regional literature back into focus. The National Education Policy (NEP) 2020 also talks about promoting mother tongue instruction, especially in the foundational years. But this implementation is inconsistent. In urban private schools especially, the pressure to stick to English remains high, sometimes from the school, sometimes from the parents themselves.

There’s also the issue of teacher training. Many schools simply don’t have well-trained staff to teach regional languages in a way that’s engaging and current. Textbooks are outdated. Classes are dull. And when students don’t see the relevance, they switch off.

Fixing this doesn’t mean turning away from progress. It means understanding that English and Indian languages don’t have to compete. A student can learn both. In fact, research shows that strong skills in the first language actually help in learning a second one. Multilingualism isn’t a burden,  it’s a strength.

And it’s a strength, a power that we’re in danger of losing.

If schools continue to treat regional languages as side characters in the education story, the next generation may never learn to speak, write, or even understand them deeply. Not because they didn’t want to, but because they were never given the tools or encouragement to.

So no, the goal isn’t to stop teaching English. The goal is to stop teaching that English is the only thing that matters. Because the moment we start believing that, we risk forgetting too much of who we are.

By Aditi Sawarkar