The Empire’s Nursery in Modern India

Every morning across India, countless schoolchildren still chirp in unison: “Jack and Jill went up the hill…” or “Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.” Their innocent voices echo rhymes born in distant lands and eras, remnants of a colonial nursery. Long after the British Raj retreated, its cultural ghosts linger in our classrooms. These English nursery rhymes – quaint and melodious – are more than just catchy verses. They are a legacy of cultural hegemony, tiny Trojan horses carrying an alien worldview into the hearts of Indian children​. Each rhyme, however playful, subtly enshrines Western norms and experiences as the default, while our own cultural stories slip into oblivion. In effect, we are witnessing a gentle form of cultural amnesia: a forgetting of our songs and sensibilities, replaced by Mother Goose’s jingles.

To be sure, language is a bridge to the wider world, and English is a valuable tool. But when English rhymes dominate early education at the expense of indigenous tales, we must ask – what do our children internalize? Beneath the sing-song charm of these colonial-era rhymes lies a hidden curriculum. Values and images foreign to India become the first mental pictures our toddlers paint: cobbled wells on English hills, black sheep bowing to masters, a baby rocked in a treetop cradle. It’s a world apart from Indian realities, yet it seeps into the psyche before children ever encounter their own cultural nursery. The result is often an unconscious sense that “real” fun and learning come from the West, while Indian stories are secondary. This subtle hierarchy can chip away at a child’s cultural self-esteem​, planting the notion that their own heritage is somehow less relevant or “old-fashioned.” In post-colonial India, that is a heavy price for a few British jingles.

Violent Tales, Nonsense Verses, Vanity Fair

Many English nursery rhymes, when examined closely, are a far cry from the idyllic innocence we associate with childhood. Behind their lilting rhythms are themes of violence, morbidity, and absurdity that would raise an eyebrow in any culture. For generations we’ve passed them off as harmless fun, perhaps because we learned them the same way. But consider what some of these rhymes actually depict:

• Casual Violence and Trauma: “Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after.” A boy cracks his head open and his companion also lands in a heap. The rhyme trots along cheerfully despite the serious injury​.  Likewise, “Rock-a-bye Baby” ends with a cradle falling from a tree – a terrifying image of an infant hurtling to the ground​. “Humpty Dumpty” fares no better; children learn that all the king’s men couldn’t save a broken figure, subtly introducing the idea of irreversible disaster with no comfort offered. In “Ring a Ring o’ Roses”, children dance in circles only to all fall “down” in a game rooted in plague and death​. These rhymes make light of injury and death, often presenting calamity as inevitable or even comical. Psychologists worry that such early exposure to violence – couched as entertainment – might desensitize kids to pain and suffering​. At the very least, it is a perplexing message when we otherwise teach children safety and empathy.

• Nonsense and Absurdity: A dash of nonsense can spark imagination, but many British rhymes are pure gibberish with no moral or lesson. “Hey Diddle Diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon,” paints a whimsical scene – fun, yes, but meaningless. “This is the house that Jack built…” strings along a convoluted tale of goats and sacks with little payoff. Children giggle at the silliness, but if most of their rhymes are wordplay without substance, an opportunity is lost. Early childhood is when fundamental lessons can be gently woven into stories. By contrast, these colonial rhymes often revel in absurdity for its own sake​. An overload of nonsense might leave young minds entertained but none the wiser – all rhythm, no reason.

• Vanity and Prejudice in Disguise: Some rhymes carry outdated social biases. Indian kids merrily recite “Chubby cheeks, dimple chin, rosy lips, teeth within, curly hair, very fair, eyes are blue – lovely too!” without realizing they are being taught a colonial beauty standard practically impossible for most of them to attain. Fair skin, blue eyes, and European features are held up as the ideal of loveliness in this popular ditty. Generations of Indians have sung this in kindergarten, absorbing the notion that to be “pretty” one must look like an English doll. Small wonder that even decades later, India battles obsessions with fairness creams and Eurocentric beauty biases. As one media critique pointed out, we grew up with just one picture of beauty – a ‘very fair’ person with ‘blue’ eyes​. Such rhymes, though seemingly innocuous, can dent a child’s self-image and perpetuate colorism or inferiority about their natural looks​. Other rhymes carry similarly troubling subtexts: “Baa Baa Black Sheep” on the surface is about sharing wool, but it explicitly casts “black” as subservient – one part for the master, one for the dame, and none for the poor shepherd boy. In a society where “black sheep” can imply an outcast, and where dark skin often bears stigma, the rhyme’s undertone is less than innocent. Likewise, “Georgie Porgie” tacitly condones bullying: a boy harasses girls with unwanted kisses and runs away when confronted, a narrative that normalizes the wrong kind of playground behavior. These are not the values we would consciously choose to instill in our little ones.

• Alien Contexts and Cultural Irrelevance: Even when not overtly negative, many English rhymes are simply out of context for Indian children. They speak of porridge and pease pudding, of kings and queens and old English inns. “London Bridge is falling down” describes a landmark across the world with archaic references. “Oranges and Lemons” names London church bells and ends with an executioner’s axe poised to chop off one’s head – certainly nothing an Indian child can relate to in daily life. “Old Mother Hubbard” and her bare cupboard, “Little Miss Muffet” eating curds and whey, or “Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater” locking his wife away – these rhymes reflect European folklore, weather, and feudal society. For an Indian child, they are at best amusing nonsense, and at worst seeds of confusion or misplaced aspirations. The cultural disconnect is glaring: our kids sing about snow and plum pie, while outside their window might be a mango tree and a bright Indian sun. Education experts note that when young learners constantly encounter lessons unrelated to their lived experience, it undermines the relevance of education and can even alienate them from their surroundings​. In the case of rhymes, this disconnect subtly tells children that their own reality is not worth appearing in “important” learning materials. Over time, this can erode pride in one’s own culture and normalize an Anglocentric worldview.

  
  

Hijacking the Imagination: Effects on Identity and Morals

What do these imported rhymes do to a child’s mindscape? The effects may be invisible at first, but they run deep. Early childhood rhymes and stories form some of the very first impressions on the blank slate of a young mind – what Sanskrit calls the “samskaras” (mental impressions). When those impressions are of broken crowns, falling cradles, and foreign kings, they inevitably influence a child’s developing psyche, identity, and moral compass.

Psychological and Emotional Impact: Children are incredibly impressionable. The scenes of violence and peril woven into many English rhymes can create a background noise of anxiety or normalize risky behavior. A lullaby like “Rock-a-bye Baby” – meant to soothe – instead visualizes a baby hurtling to harm, potentially planting subconscious insecurity at bedtime. A nursery rhyme that makes light of injuries, like Jack and Jill’s tumble, might teach children to laugh at someone’s pain or not take their own safety seriously​. Psychologists warn that when harm is presented as humour, kids can become desensitized​. They may not fully distinguish play from reality and might reenact these scenarios without understanding the real consequences (how many bumps and bruises have resulted from children literally reenacting “Jack and Jill” on the playground?). Moreover, the general negativity – tales of loss, greed, and fear – can subtly tinge a child’s emotional world. Instead of rhymes that reassure or uplift, these often carry a pessimistic undertone (nursery characters get hurt, don’t get back up, or are treated cruelly). A steady diet of such themes could skew a child’s outlook, making the world seem a more dangerous or uncaring place than it really is.

Cultural Self-Esteem: Perhaps the most insidious effect is on a child’s sense of self and heritage. When an Indian child’s formative years are filled with English rhymes and almost zero representation of their own culture, the implicit message is that English stories are universal and Indian stories are not worth learning. This can germinate a feeling of cultural inferiority. Research has shown that Western-centric curriculum content can lead students in post-colonial societies to internalize a hierarchy with the West on top​. A young girl who constantly sings about English lords and ladies, but never about Indian farmers, freedom fighters, or even animals in her backyard, may unconsciously start identifying more with the former. By the time she’s old enough to ask “Where am I in all these stories?”, the damage is done – her cultural roots have been overshadowed by transplanted saplings from abroad.

Academic studies in India are now critically examining this phenomenon. A 2022 research paper on English rhymes in Indian schools noted that many of these rhymes perpetuate subtle notions of white superiority and colonial dominance, even in the 21st century​. Characters in the rhymes are almost always fair-skinned Western personas; non-European cultures (if mentioned at all) are exoticized or shown negatively. Such representation (or lack thereof) can make a non-white child unconsciously see themselves as “other” in the world of learning. The same study pointed out that English nursery rhymes often reinforce harmful gender stereotypes and social roles​. For example, rhymes like “Jack and Jill” position the boy as the active leader and the girl as the follower who comes “tumbling after”​. “Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe” portrays a helpless mother resorting to whipping her children – hardly an image of nurturing parenthood. Over time, such portrayals can normalize archaic gender roles or insensitive attitudes in impressionable minds.

Morally, the lessons (or lack thereof) in these rhymes are dubious. Many English nursery rhymes have no clear moral direction – unlike traditional Indian children’s stories which nearly always carry a lesson or virtue. In the absence of an explicit moral, children may infer their own: perhaps that might makes right (as in “Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater” locking up his wife), or that it’s fine to steal as long as it’s funny (“Tom, Tom, the piper’s son” steals a pig and we sing about it jovially). The rhyme “Georgie Porgie” as analyzed by educators is practically a case study in bad lessons: it “promotes sexual harassment and bullying by reinforcing negative attitudes towards consent” when a boy’s misdeeds go unpunished​. While children may not grasp these adult interpretations, they do pick up the general vibe. Unlike Panchatantra tales or Jataka fables where virtues like honesty, kindness, courage are highlighted, these imported rhymes rarely model positive behavior to emulate. This moral vacuum means that, at a critical age when kids are learning right from wrong, many of their favourite rhymes are at best morally neutral and at worst morally confusing.

Homogenization and Loss of Critical Thinking: An oft-overlooked consequence is how a steady diet of one-dimensional content can dull a child’s critical consciousness. The colonial rhymes encourage rote memorization and mechanical recitation. Kids rarely question what “ashes, ashes, we all fall down” means – they are conditioned to accept and repeat. Educators who have conducted a critical reading of West Bengal’s Class-III English rhymes, found that such content and pedagogy produce “conforming, unquestioning mechanical products of society”​. In plainer terms, we risk raising a generation of children who can recite dozens of English rhymes but have never been prompted to think about their meaning. This passive absorption is antithetical to the kind of engaged, critical learning that modern education aspires to. It also homogenizes young minds into the mold cast by a foreign culture, leaving little room for the rich diversity of thought that indigenous stories and multilingual education would provide. The critical thinking that could emerge from discussing a folktale’s moral or a myth’s symbolism is lost when kids are simply taught to sing along to fixed rhymes. In a way, these colonial rhymes impose a uniform cultural script on children, smoothing over the inquisitive spark that might question, imagine, or diverge.

Vedic Wisdom: Sacred Stories as Soul-Builders

Long before printed English rhymes landed on our shores, India has cherished a vibrant tradition of children’s literature and oral storytelling grounded in Vedic and Dharmic philosophy. In our culture, childhood learning has never been a trivial matter of keeping kids busy with amusing jingles – it is seen as sacred work, laying the foundation of a person’s character and consciousness. The ancient sages understood that the tales told to a child are the seeds of their worldview, likely to take root for a lifetime. Modern neuroscience echoes this, noting that early childhood experiences profoundly shape brain development and values. Remarkably, our traditions intuited this truth millennia ago in the concept of “samskaras.”

In Hindu philosophy, samskaras are mental impressions or imprints left by experiences. The first five years of life, often called the Balya Avastha, are when the deepest samskaras form – hence the emphasis on positive, nurturing input during this phase. Story, song, and language are viewed as powerful tools to sculpt the young mind. The Vedic view of sound (“Shabda”) is that it is creative energy; words and chants are not idle, they carry vibrational force that can elevate or degrade the listener’s consciousness. It is no surprise then that traditionally, Indian children’s first exposure to language often comes in the form of sacred sounds: cradle songs invoking God’s names, lullabies steeped in love and prayer, and simple mantras taught at a tender age. For example, a common Sanskrit bedtime verse for children is “Ramaskandam Hanumantam” – invoking Lord Rama and Hanuman for protection. Even without understanding, the child imbibes a sense of security and dharmic virtue from such gentle incantations.

Indian Lullabies and Folk Rhymes have always carried multiple layers of purpose. They certainly soothe and entertain, but they also preserve cultural memory and instill virtues. A traditional lullaby often includes references to nature, family, and divinity all in one. They might describe the moon as a mama or uncle bringing sleep, or narrate a tiny story of baby Krishna and Yashoda to rock the child gently into moral understanding. Unlike the disconnected imagery of Western rhymes, Indian lullabies firmly anchor the child in their own universe – with familiar characters (mother, father, grandmother), local flora and fauna, and the comforting ethos of dharma (righteousness) triumphing. As one cultural scholar notes, Indian lullabies serve as a “vehicle for storing values, stories, and spiritual beliefs” across generations​. They have been crucial in conveying knowledge and preserving tradition in our oral society​. A Gujarati lori (lullaby) might subtly teach compassion by singing about a sparrow feeding its babies, a Bengali lullaby might instill devotion by picturing the child in the care of a loving Krishna, and so on. The child drifts to sleep wrapped not just in melody, but in the cultural security blanket of their heritage.

This reflects the Dharmic philosophy of education: that learning in childhood should build sanskar (good impressions) and nurture the spirit, not just amuse the senses. Stories are seen as a means to plant the seeds of samskara. Our epics like the Ramayana and Mahabharata have traditionally been retold to children precisely for this reason – they impart complex ethics in simple story form. Even folk tales like Panchatantra fables were designed as teaching tools (originally composed to educate royal children in statecraft and morality). In essence, Indian tradition treats children’s stories and songs as the first classroom of life, where lessons of empathy, courage, respect, and truthfulness are gently inculcated. There is a Sanskrit saying: “Ya Devi Sarvabhuteshu Matru-rupena samsthita, namastasyai...” – honoring the divine as mother within all beings. Extending that, one might say the act of teaching a child is itself viewed as a quasi-divine act, a responsibility (dharma) not to be taken lightly. Thus, frivolous or harmful content has no place in early learning from a Dharmic perspective. Every rhyme or tale should ideally serve a purpose in the child’s holistic development – physical, emotional, and spiritual.

Moreover, the role of language is sacred in Vedic thought. Sanskrit, often dubbed a “divine language,” is structured such that its phonetics are believed to resonate with cosmic truths. While one cannot expect toddlers to learn Sanskrit shlokas immediately, the principle is that any language can be used in a sattvic (pure) way to uplift. Even simple Hindi or regional-language rhymes historically carried profound messages. For instance, the Hindi rhyme “Machhli jal ki rani hai” (the fish is the queen of water) teaches children about aquatic life in an endearing way, fostering love for animals. A Tamil rhyme about a crow might teach the value of sharing, a Punjabi rhyme about seasons might instill respect for nature’s cycles. The point is that traditional Indian rhymes and children’s songs are anything but empty entertainment – they are imbued with cultural values, connection to nature, familial bonds, and spirituality as naturally as a lotus blossoms in a pond​. The contrast with colonial rhymes could not be more stark. One set treats the child as a soul to be nurtured, the other as a mind to be amused or indoctrinated.

Decolonizing the Nursery: Songs of Our Soil

It is heartening to witness India awakening to a long-standing cultural contradiction and making concerted efforts to reclaim the imagination of its youngest citizens. The National Education Policy (NEP) 2020 marks a pivotal shift by emphasizing the need for an education rooted in Indian culture and advocating for mother-tongue learning during early childhood. Responding to this vision, a wave of educators and innovators are actively replacing imported nursery rhymes with content that celebrates India’s rich heritage. Among the pioneering efforts is Rhymes of Bharat, a creative initiative that crafts English-language nursery rhymes infused with Indian values, stories, and imagery. This approach masterfully bridges the gap between modern educational necessities and cultural continuity. Children can still learn English, a global lingua franca, but in a manner that keeps them connected to their roots. In essence, the project is decolonizing the nursery rhyme, one verse at a time.

The Rhymes of Bharat collection vividly reimagines nursery rhymes using motifs from Indian culture. These efforts combine the musicality of English verse with the timeless ethos of Bharat, weaving in themes like nature, devotion, family bonds, and reverence for all forms of life. Imagine a classroom where children no longer act out Humpty Dumpty’s unfortunate tumble, but instead sing about Hanuman’s epic leap of faith. Rather than “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” which portrays wonder in a distant, abstract form, children might recite a rhyme describing the countless stars as the divine eyes of celestial beings watching over the world. This isn’t a distant dream—projects like Rhymes of Bharat have already composed dozens of such rhymes, covering everything from nature worship and animal kindness to tales of Indian heroes and simple, culturally rooted practices like touching elders’ feet in respect. The essence of rhyme and rhythm remains intact, but the fragrance has changed—it now smells of home.

To illustrate the contrast, consider a few classic English rhymes and their Indian alternatives. In place of "Jack and Jill," where two children climb a hill only to meet with an unfortunate accident and no moral resolution, Rhymes of Bharat offers a playful tale of Krishna and Balarama. This Indian version emphasizes sibling bonding, helping one another, and caring for elders—conveying that real bravery lies in compassion and cooperation. Likewise, the colonial rhyme “Baa Baa Black Sheep,” historically tied to feudal taxes and servitude, paints a picture of wool being divided between a master and a dame, with nothing left for the shepherd boy. In contrast, a spirited Indian rhyme to the same tune—Rama Rama, Leads the Way—celebrates Lord Rama’s victorious return and the jubilant people of Ayodhya. Instead of wool being offered to masters, children chant, “Yes sir, yes sir, with strength and might!” learning that true service lies in upholding righteousness and dharma.

These examples underscore an important truth: it is absolutely possible to retain the joy and learning benefits of nursery rhymes while discarding outdated or toxic themes. A child in India can just as easily recite, “One, two, morning’s hue, three, four, out the door…”—a rhyme about starting the day with gratitude and yoga—as they would the colonial “One, two, buckle my shoe.” The key difference is cultural connection. The former invites children to notice morning light and blooming flowers; the latter, shoes and routines from another context. With the Indian version, children begin to see their lives reflected in what they sing. They learn to bow to the Earth in gratitude, celebrate the heroes of their land, and understand that kindness, respect, and community are sources of strength.

Importantly, these rhymes still serve the foundational purposes of early education: building vocabulary, fostering rhythm, enhancing memory, and bringing joy to learning. The shift is not in function, but in the stories and values conveyed. English is no longer the lens through which children must view the world—it becomes a tool for expressing their own world, their own culture. As the creators of Rhymes of Bharat beautifully put it, their compositions are not just verses—they are “a celebration of Bharat’s profound heritage,” designed to instill cultural pride from the earliest years. This growing movement to indigenize children’s content carries deep emotional significance. It is about restoring a stolen inheritance, offering back to our children the treasure that was always theirs: the wisdom, wonder, and warmth of their own cultural soil.

A Call to Wake Up: What Will Our Children Remember?

It is often said that the songs of childhood are never forgotten. They linger in the recesses of memory, popping up decades later unbidden – when you rock your own child to sleep, or hum absent-mindedly in the shower. Now imagine the future: Will the next generation of Indian parents find themselves automatically singing “Twinkle Twinkle” and “Jill came tumbling after” without a second thought, as if these were the only lullabies humanity ever invented? That is the trajectory we are on – a true cultural amnesia where we have forgotten the cradle songs of our own ancestors. We stand at a poignant crossroads. We can either continue on this path, allowing colonial-era rhymes to occupy the precious real estate of our children’s early imagination, or we can consciously reclaim that space with the tales and values of Bharat.

The choice is ours, but the responsibility is heavy. As parents, teachers, and policymakers, we must recognize that every rhyme we teach is a cultural seed sown in the heart of a child. What will it grow into? A plant nourished by the native soil of their heritage, or a withering transplant disconnected from its environment? If we want our children to grow up confident in their identity, grounded in ethics, and appreciative of their culture, we must water them with the right songs and stories. This doesn’t mean banning English rhymes outright – it means mindfully curating what we expose our kids to. It means asking “why should my child sing this?” before blindly following tradition. If a rhyme carries violence, vanity, prejudice, or simply has no relevance, perhaps it’s time to retire it. In its place, we can introduce delightful Indian rhymes (in English or any language) that are now readily available, thanks to initiatives like Rhymes of Bharat and a resurgence of interest in regional folklore.

Policymakers should take a cue and update curricula. Why not have a balance – for every “Jack and Jill” in a textbook, include a “Jai and Jyoti” local rhyme? The NEP 2020 gives a green signal to push for this change; it is up to school boards and educators to implement it with creativity and commitment. Teachers can play a transformative role by bringing local language lullabies or new Indian English rhymes into the classroom, explaining their meanings and encouraging kids to discuss them. This could spark a much richer learning experience than the mechanical recitation of dated rhymes. Parents, too, are powerful gatekeepers of culture. The next time you hear your toddler singing about a black sheep or a falling baby, take a moment to gently introduce a new song – perhaps “Machhli jal ki rani hai” or a simple Hindi prayer rhyme. Children’s minds are open and eager; they will embrace the new rhyme with the same excitement, and you’ll notice their eyes light up even more when they recognize elements of their own life in the song.

We must act with urgency. In a globalized world, preserving cultural uniqueness is a challenge, but also a necessity for the soul of a nation. India – a civilization of storytelling, of Vedas and Panchatantra, of Nanhi Pari and Birbal tales – should not let its identity be lost in translation during the most crucial years of learning. We have already lost much time, humming British tunes while our own lay dormant. It is time to change the tune. By decolonizing the nursery and re-rooting it in Bharat, we are not moving backward – we are reclaiming the forward path of our cultural self-confidence. As the first whispers of consciousness dawn in our children, let those whispers speak of the Ganga and the Himalayas, of brave Rani Lakshmibai and wise Birbal, of lotus flowers and playful monkeys, of namaste and Om. Let their cradle songs be the ones that fill their hearts with wonder, courage, and the comfort of belonging.

In the end, the rhymes a child learns are not trivial; they are the preludes to the life stories they will write. If we wish for those stories to be rooted in Indian values and enriched by the legacy of our ancestors, we must begin by changing the lullabies. The empire’s nursery has had its time. Now, with love and resolve, let us sing a new India into being, one humble rhyme at a time.