Every year, people across continents celebrate Punjabi Maa Boli Day with great excitement, loud slogans, and emotional social media posts. For one full day, everyone becomes a poet, a philosopher, and a defender of the language. They post long captions, add heart emojis, and declare that Punjabi is their soul, their pride, their identity. But as soon as the next sunrise arrives, the passion fades faster than a free YouTube trial. The reality is simple: the celebration is grand, but the follow-up is nonexistent.
Across the world from Canada to Australia, from Punjab to the UK, the same pattern repeats. Leaders give big speeches filled with promises about saving Punjabi. Organisations host events where the same poems are read, the same awards are given, and the same chai is served. People shout that Punjabi is in danger, but moments later switch back to typing in English or Hindi on their phones. Everyone loves to talk about the language, but when it comes to real efforts—teaching children, opening Punjabi classes, creating books, encouraging reading—the energy disappears completely.
The results of these celebrations are almost identical every year: no new Punjabi schools, no organised curriculum, no international Punjabi strategy, no major initiatives for youth, and no concrete steps for the future. Instead, only new photos, new hashtags, and new WhatsApp statuses appear. Punjabi Maa Boli Day has quietly become like a New Year’s resolution very powerful for 24 hours, entirely forgotten for the next 364 days.
When people talk about future planning, they always repeat the same line: “Next year we will definitely do something.” This promise has been repeated for so many years that it has now become a cultural joke, similar to the classic Punjabi line: “I’m on my way,” even when the person hasn’t left their house. The intention is good, but the actual work is missing. We love our language deeply, but not deeply enough to work for it.
Still, one thing is certain—next year there will be another celebration, another gathering, another cake, and another inspiring speech. And once again, it will be a beautifully organised ceremony designed to achieve absolutely nothing. The cycle will continue until we finally realise that languages survive not through events, but through daily use, reading, learning, and teaching. But until that day comes, Maa Boli celebrations will remain the most festive way of doing nothing.