My basic knowledge about Punjabi comes from films.

The actress Ileana D’Cruz, in a moment of candor and simplicity, once said: “My basic knowledge about Punjabi comes from films.” Though at first this may seem like a lighthearted admission, within it lies a profound truth about the way cultures are learned, shared, and preserved. She acknowledges that her first window into the world of a language and its people came not through textbooks or formal schooling, but through the art of cinema—through stories, songs, and emotions brought to life on the screen.

This saying reminds us that knowledge does not always come in rigid, formalized forms. Just as the ancients once learned their heritage through epics recited by bards or through stories passed at the fireside, so too in our age do people encounter the richness of cultures through art—especially through films, which are the modern form of the communal stage. In D’Cruz’s experience, cinema became the bridge to understanding a language not her own, revealing that the heart often learns first through feeling before the mind learns through grammar.

The power of films lies in their ability to convey not just words, but worlds. In watching Punjabi cinema or hearing Punjabi songs in Indian films, one does not merely encounter vocabulary; one feels the rhythm of laughter, the weight of sorrow, the joy of festivals, the pride of traditions. In this way, films become teachers of both language and culture, offering something that no classroom alone can provide: immersion in the living soul of a people.

History offers us many such examples of art as the vessel of learning. In ancient Greece, much of the population could not read, yet they learned their myths, their gods, their sense of honor and justice through the tragedies of Aeschylus and the comedies of Aristophanes performed in the open-air theaters. Likewise, in India, generations absorbed the wisdom of the Ramayana and Mahabharata not from written texts, but from plays, songs, and dances that carried the stories across centuries. In every age, the stage has taught, and in our time, the stage is the cinema.

D’Cruz’s words also remind us of humility in knowledge. She does not claim mastery, but only “basic knowledge,” recognizing that her understanding is limited, and that true fluency requires deeper effort. Yet even this beginning is meaningful: for the first step toward learning a language or culture often comes from curiosity sparked by art. Once the heart is drawn in, the mind can follow, seeking grammar, literature, and conversation. It is through this sequence—feeling, then study—that many journeys of learning begin.

The lesson for us is powerful: do not despise small beginnings, nor think that knowledge gained through art is shallow. If films, songs, or stories awaken your interest in another culture, let that spark grow. Seek to learn more deeply, yes, but also cherish the first doorway that art has opened. For every language holds within it a world, and every encounter with that world enriches the soul.

Practical action lies within reach. Watch films of other cultures with openness. Listen to their songs, attend their plays, read their stories. Let art be your first teacher, and then honor that teaching by continuing your study with diligence. Share what you learn with others, for in so doing, you create bridges between peoples.

Thus, Ileana D’Cruz’s simple words shine with hidden wisdom: “My basic knowledge about Punjabi comes from films.” They remind us that the arts are not only entertainment but education, not only pleasure but passageways into the soul of humanity. And those who allow art to teach them will find themselves not only more knowledgeable, but more human, for they will carry within them fragments of many worlds, joined together in understanding and respect.