A Stage for Survival: How ‘Bhasha Vahinda Dariya Natak’ Revives Linguistic Heritage

"?? ???? ?? ???? ? ???????, ?? ???? ?? ???? ???? ????????" (The land where the flute of culture does not sing— How barren is that earth?) —Bulleh Shah

A civilization breathes through its language and dances through its culture. They are the invisible threads weaving humanity into a tapestry of shared stories, struggles, and dreams. At Khalsa Educational Institutions, this truth cascaded like a river in the recent Punjabi play?“Bhasha Vahinda Dariya Natak”?(The Flowing River of Language), written by the visionary playwright Sompal Heera and brought to life under the banner?“Naiya Kalma Natiyan Udana”?(Sailing the Boat of New Dialogues). Through its poignant narrative, the play reminded us that to lose a language is to dam a river—silencing the flow of collective memory.

The Humanism of Tongues and Traditions

The Guru Granth Sahib illuminates this bond: "???? ???? ?????? ?? ????? ?????" (Those who meditate on the Divine Name, their labor bears fruit.) Here, “Name” is not mere word but essence—a cultural and spiritual anchor. Language, in its sacred rhythm, molds our ethics, our joys, and our grief. It is why the annihilation of a tongue is a violence against the soul. As the play’s protagonist declared,?“A state survives not by borders, but by the pulse of its language.”

India’s Constitution echoes this wisdom. Article 29 safeguards minority cultures; Article 30 grants them the right to educate their young in their own linguistic streams. During the Constituent Assembly debates, Dr. B.R. Ambedkar warned,?“A people’s culture is their dignity. To strip it is to reduce them to ghosts.”?Today, the Eighth Schedule enshrines 22 languages—each a tributary to the great river of Bharat. Yet, beyond our shores, indigenous voices like the Navajo of America or the Aboriginal peoples of Australia still fight to keep their linguistic fires alive. Australian author Bruce Pascoe’s?“Dark Emu”?resurrects pre-colonial Aboriginal wisdom, while Native American writer Louise Erdrich’s?“The Round House”?mourns the erosion of Ojibwe traditions. Their stories are mirrors: a culture unspoken is a civilization unremembered.

The Play: A Symphony of Soil and Song

Heera’s?“Bhasha Vahinda Dariya Natak”?was not merely a performance—it was a pilgrimage. The actors, led by the magnetic Sompal Heera, transformed the stage into a flowing?dariya?(river), where every gesture rippled with the weight of ancestral voices. A haunting moment arrived when a character whispered,?“When the last word of our tongue fades, who will sing our lullabies?”?The audience sat breathless, goosebumps rising like waves.

The play’s thesis resonated with the Preamble of India’s Constitution:?“We, the people of India…”?—a phrase embracing every dialect, every folk song, every grandmother’s tale. Similarly, the UN Charter’s opening lines—“We the peoples”?—affirm that cultural diversity is not a fracture but a foundation. As the protagonist pleaded for Punjab’s linguistic legacy, one recalled Faiz Ahmed Faiz: "??? ?? ?? ????? ??? ????…" (Speak, for your lips are free.)

A Call to the Currents

Why should such programs remain confined? In Punjab, where?Punjabiyat—the ethos of land, language, and love—thrives in every harvest hymn and Bhangra beat, this play felt like a homecoming. Yet, every Indian state has its own?dariya?to nurture. Imagine Tamil Nadu celebrating Sangam poetry, or Assam staging plays in Brajavali—each a ripple in the ocean of Indian unity.

Let us end with the words of Guru Nanak, woven into the play’s finale: "???? ??? ???? ???????" (All speech is absorbed into the Ocean of the Divine.) To Dr. Iqbal Singh Godara, whose stewardship turned this vision into reality, and to Mr. Harjinder Singh, whose friendship anchored the effort—a heartfelt?dhanvaad. May the river flow on.

"???? ?? ?? ???? ??????? ?? ?? ??? ?????" (Where have those people gone, whose paths were rivers?) —Punjabi Folklore

-Mohit Kumar