“Every child begins the world anew—not to remember what we teach them, but to wonder why the world is.”

A Misplaced War of Words

In the cacophony of India’s linguistic landscape, it is easy to mistake noise for nuance. The recent public debate swirling around the language policy in schools—often couched as a contest between Marathi and Hindi—is, at best, a false dichotomy. This parochial framing misses the forest for the trees. The issue is not one language pitted against another, but rather the educational wisdom—or lack thereof—of thrusting three distinct languages upon the shoulders of a six-year-old, fresh from the womb of wonder and still discovering the alphabet of existence.

The National Education Policy (NEP) 2020, laudable in its broader vision, falters in this crucial area. By advocating three languages, it prioritizes national integration and linguistic representation over the cognitive well-being of children. While unity in diversity is indeed a noble motto, unity at the cost of developmental harmony is a dangerous wager, if it is not construed in scientific perspective.

II. The Fragile Clay of Childhood: What Science Tells Us

To understand the gravity of this policy’s impact, we must first revisit what modern neuroscience and psychology tell us about childhood learning.

The brain of a child in the early years is a marvel of neuroplasticity. According to the Center on the Developing Child at Harvard University, over 1 million new neural connections are formed every second in the first few years of life. These formative years—roughly from birth to age 8—represent what scientists call a “sensitive period” for learning. During this phase, a child’s brain is most responsive to environmental stimuli, but also most vulnerable to cognitive overload.

Jean Piaget, the Swiss psychologist whose theories still shape pedagogical frameworks worldwide, defined the ages between 5 and 11 as the “concrete operational stage.” At this stage, children begin to grasp concepts such as conservation, classification, and logical sequencing. However, abstract reasoning is still nascent. They learn best through tangible experiences, inquiry-based exploration, and the nurturing of their innate curiosity.

Into this fragile architecture, we now pour the weight of three fully-formed languages—each with its own grammar, phonetics, syntax, and literary traditions. The result is not multilingual brilliance but cognitive clutter, rote fatigue, and the quiet suffocation of creativity.

III. What the Data Reveals: Language Load Versus Learning Outcomes

Let us anchor this argument with empirical evidence.

The Annual Status of Education Report (ASER) 2023, conducted by Pratham, revealed a troubling trend: nearly 50% of Class 5 students in rural India could not read a Class 2-level text in any language. A similar percentage struggled with basic arithmetic. The implications are stark—despite studying multiple languages, children are not achieving functional literacy in even one.

The PISA assessments, conducted by the OECD every three years to evaluate 15-year-olds in reading, math, and science, rank India far below its Asian peers. While India withdrew from the test after a poor performance in 2009 (where it ranked 73rd out of 74), countries like Singapore, Japan, and South Korea consistently top the charts—each of them focusing on two-language systems, not three.

In contrast, Finland, where formal education begins at age 7 with just one language, continues to produce students with the highest scientific literacy. The Finnish model emphasizes play, discovery, and critical thinking, especially in early grades. As Sahlberg (2011), a Finnish education expert, famously remarked: “Less is more when it comes to learning in the early years.”

The three-language formula in India, therefore, stands as an anomaly—more ideological than educational, more ornamental than effective.

IV. Multilingualism: A Double-Edged Sword

To be clear, multilingualism is not the villain in this narrative. On the contrary, studies by the American Academy of Pediatrics and UNESCO show that bilingual children often exhibit greater cognitive flexibility, better executive function, and enhanced problem-solving skills. But these benefits emerge when second and third languages are introduced gradually, ideally after foundational literacy and numeracy are secured in the mother tongue.

A 2018 study published in the Journal of Experimental Child Psychology found that premature exposure to multiple orthographic systems (different scripts) can delay reading fluency in all languages. The brain, when forced to juggle three scripts—say, Devanagari, Roman, and Urdu—allocates more energy to decoding than to comprehension or creativity.

The key variable is timing. A mind still learning to think in a language should not be asked to think across three.

V. The Pedagogical Fallout: Teachers, Parents, and Textbook Tyranny

The practical consequences of the policy are equally troubling. Teachers, especially in government schools, are stretched thin. Many are undertrained in teaching even one language proficiently, let alone three. Textbooks arrive late. Classrooms are overcrowded. And children, especially first-generation learners, are often left to fend for themselves in the linguistic wilderness.

Parents, too, find themselves alienated. A mother who speaks only Marathi, a father familiar with Hindi, and a classroom taught in English create a triad of confusion. Homework becomes a battleground; learning becomes labor; education loses its joy.

And thus, we raise a generation of children who may know how to conjugate verbs in three tongues, but cannot ask “why” with conviction in even one.

VI. The International Mirror: What Other Nations Teach Us

Let us now peer across the globe to see what educationally successful nations do differently.

Finland: One language until age 7, focus on curiosity-driven learning, teacher autonomy, and no standardized tests till age 16.

Singapore: Two-language policy (mother tongue and English), high-quality teacher training, and STEM focus from early grades. Ranked No.1 in science and math by PISA (2018).

South Korea: Heavy investment in early education, bilingualism with a national language focus, minimal curriculum clutter.

None of these nations impose three concurrent language streams from Grade 1. Instead, they carefully scaffold learning—one building block at a time, respecting the child’s cognitive bandwidth.

VII. The Indian Contradiction: Policy Masquerading as Pedagogy

India’s three-language formula was born out of good intentions: to ensure linguistic unity, preserve regional diversity, and balance north-south sensibilities. But noble intentions do not absolve flawed implementations.

In practice, it has become a bureaucratic relic—a policy frozen in time, immune to the advances in brain science, pedagogical research, and comparative education.

By prioritizing linguistic representation over scientific reasoning, we risk raising a generation that can recite poetry in three languages but cannot write a coherent paragraph analyzing a scientific phenomenon. We confuse breadth for depth, representation for retention, and memorization for mastery.

VIII. The Constitutional Canvas: Law, Autonomy, and the Limits of Prescription

India’s constitutional architecture, in its wisdom, has long recognised education as both a personal journey and a public duty—a shared responsibility between the Centre and the States. This delicate balance finds expression in Article 246, read in conjunction with Schedule VII, where education occupies the Concurrent List (List III). In this shared legislative space, both the Union and individual States are empowered to enact laws and shape educational policy. Yet, the Constitution also anticipates friction: should a conflict arise between a central and state statute on the same subject, Article 254 asserts the primacy of the central law—a safeguard against legislative dissonance.

However, on the specific matter of the imposition of three languages from the very first year of formal schooling, it must be noted with clarity: no central legislation exists mandating such a framework. The much-invoked Three-Language Formula, far from being a statutory command, was a recommendatory device, intended to reflect linguistic pluralism rather than enforce uniformity. It was never enshrined in law; it bears no coercive force.

In the absence of such a central mandate, the States are left free to chart their own linguistic trajectories. They may adopt, modify, or set aside the formula based on their unique demographic, cultural, and educational considerations. Thus, the Government of Maharashtra, in crafting its language education policy, acts well within the bounds of constitutional legitimacy.

Yet, with great autonomy comes profound responsibility. While empowered to legislate, the State is also morally and pedagogically bound to act in the best interests of its children—not merely in the name of cultural representation or administrative uniformity. The developmental needs of the child—cognitive, emotional, and linguistic—must guide the hand that drafts such policies. To legislate is a right; to legislate wisely, a duty.

IX. The National Education Policy 2020: Guidance, Not Mandate

The National Education Policy (NEP) 2020, an ambitious blueprint for reimagining India’s educational landscape, embraces multilingualism as a tool for inclusion and enrichment. It echoes the spirit of India’s linguistic diversity while cautioning against cognitive overload in young learners. The three-language formula is present, yes—but not as an imposition from Grade I, and certainly not as a one-size-fits-all diktat.

Specifically, Section 4.12 and its ancillary provisions within the NEP 2020 propose a gradual and sensitive introduction of multiple languages. The document makes it abundantly clear that in the foundational stage (up to Grade II), children should primarily be taught in their mother tongue or regional language. The rationale is rooted not in politics but in developmental science: foundational literacy and numeracy are to be the bedrock of early education.

Further, the policy advises that the introduction of additional languages be phased and considerate, factoring in the child’s cognitive capacity, the linguistic context of the region, and the availability of competent teachers and materials. It recognises that young minds thrive not in linguistic congestion but in conceptual clarity and gradual exposure.

Thus, the Maharashtra government’s policy to introduce three languages simultaneously from Grade I not only lacks a constitutional compulsion, but stands at odds with the vision, tone, and intent of NEP 2020. What was meant to be a roadmap for empowering learners has here been translated into a premature burden on their still-forming minds.

X. Toward a New Vision: Rethinking the Language Ladder

What then is the way forward?

Foundational Literacy First: Begin with the mother tongue or dominant regional language to build strong literacy skills. This is backed by UNESCO’s Global Education Monitoring Report (2022), which shows children learn best when taught in their home language during early grades.

Bilingual Scaffold Later: Introduce English or Hindi (or both) gradually, from Grade 5 or 6, depending on regional contexts. Allow one language to take root before planting the next.

Scientific Temperament as a Core Objective: Dedicate early grades to cultivating curiosity, problem-solving, and hands-on inquiry. Replace some language load with activities in reasoning, coding, storytelling, or even philosophy for children.

Teacher Empowerment: Train educators in language pedagogy with sensitivity to cognitive loads. Equip them to recognize signs of overload and adapt accordingly.

Curriculum Audit: Regularly review and revise textbooks to ensure linguistic content is developmentally appropriate and culturally relevant.

Let the Child Breathe

Let us not reduce education to a battlefield of identity politics. The future of India cannot afford to be lost in the trenches of linguistic pride. If we must uphold unity, let it be unity in purpose, not in prescription.

Let the child breathe. Let her ask questions. Let her write messy sentences. Let her invent words, build rockets from cardboard, and draw the solar system on the floor with chalk. Let her learn one language well, before burdening her with three. Let her fall in love with learning—not because she must recite “Ramdhari Singh Dinkar” in one period and “Kusumagraj” in the next—but because she sees magic in atoms and poetry in the stars.

In the end, education is not about what we teach; it is about what they retain, question, and create. And for that to happen, less is more, depth over display, and always, child before curriculum.