Preserving Voices of the Hills: The Struggle for Cultural Identity in Northeast India

By Bhaskar Deka, Pragjyotish College

In the quiet hills of Arunachal Pradesh, the sound of the Adi dialect is slowly fading. Once the language that echoed across villages and rivers, it now struggles to find space in the conversations of the younger generation. What was once passed down through fireside tales and songs is now competing with English tutorials, Instagram reels, and K-pop playlists.

This is not just the story of the Adis. It is the story of the entire Northeast — of communities caught between tradition and modernity, of languages fighting for survival in a world that rewards global tongues more than local ones.

For many young people today, identity is no longer tied only to tribe or village. It’s shaped by the internet, by universities in Delhi and Bangalore, by the dream of making a mark beyond the hills. Yet somewhere within, there remains a quiet fear — that in becoming “modern,” something essential is being lost.

“I can understand my mother tongue, but I can’t speak it fluently anymore,” says Tashi, a 20-year-old student from the Monpa community. “We were never taught it in school. It wasn’t in the syllabus. So, it became something we only heard at home.”

Education has, in many ways, been both the bridge and the barrier. English and Hindi dominate classrooms, pushing local dialects into the background. Many schools see mother tongues as impractical for “career growth.” In doing so, they often forget that language is not just about words — it is memory, it is heritage, it is the soul of a people.

Media and pop culture have also reshaped the region’s cultural landscape. Young creators from Assam, Nagaland, and Mizoram are using YouTube and Instagram to revive traditional songs, folk dances, and stories. What once required an audience in a community hall can now reach the world through a single video. For many, this digital storytelling has become a new form of cultural resistance.

Still, the challenge remains daunting. UNESCO has already listed several languages from the Northeast as endangered. Without strong state support, community-based schooling, and consistent cultural programming, these languages may soon exist only in archives — and in the memories of the elderly.

Yet hope is not lost. Across the region, small movements are taking shape. In parts of Meghalaya and Arunachal, local youth collect oral histories and record folk tales. In Assam, writers and musicians blend English with their native tongues, creating a new hybrid identity that feels both global and rooted.

The journey ahead is about balance — learning to embrace the world without forgetting the soil beneath our feet. Because when a language dies, it is not just a way of speaking that disappears. It is a way of seeing the world that vanishes forever.