"Most mornings in our house feel like a friendly little language carnival spinning through the kitchen. Before the kids even put on their shoes for school, they've already cycled through three languages joking in Hindi, arguing in Pashto and sprinkling English on top like chocolate chips tossed over their cereal. We don't plan it or rehearse it: it just happens. Pashto is the language of feelings and family business like complaints, alliances, who stole whose pencil, who touched the remote."
"Hindi came to us through the back door: Bollywood songs and movies playing in the background, cousins in Karachi and the kind of street-style banter the kids pick up from YouTube faster than I can keep track of. And English, of course, is the language that binds the whole day together with school notices, breakfast negotiations, reminders about homework. The kids seem to choose the language that suits the mood: Hindi for humour, Pashto for passion, English for practicality."
The household routinely shifts among Pashto, Hindi, and English, with children code-switching naturally throughout morning routines. Pashto conveys feelings and family matters, Hindi filters in via Bollywood and online banter, and English serves school-related practicalities. Children select languages by mood—Hindi for humour, Pashto for passion, English for practicality—and often blend languages mid-sentence. School expectations push students to stick to English during class, which reduces the expressive range available beyond school. Peer networks spur further language ambitions, with children seeking Japanese or German inspired by media and perceived professional associations.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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