Memory Lane: Cultural gift or Nostalgic rambling?

When diaspora parents talk to their kids about “home,” are we passing on something meaningful? Or are we just romanticising our own childhoods?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot since starting Moli.Boli.

Here’s my take: being human means living inside stories. Family stories. Migration stories. Memory stories. And heritage stories are some of the most emotionally loaded of all.

But diaspora memory does a strange thing.

When we—or our parents—left India, we packed a version of it in our heads. A little time capsule. If you go back often, that picture keeps updating. If you don’t, it freezes. And that frozen version becomes the India our children inherit.

For me, it’s the ice cream guy.

I grew up across small-town India as an army kid, and whether we were in Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan, or Assam, the ice creamwala with his thela was ubiquitous. Big matka. Red cloth. Blocks of ice. Loud musical call. All of us running out into the lane to gather round him. Pure joy.

My daughter finds this story hilarious and hard to wrap her head around. And really, how many kids in India today eat ice cream that way? Probably very few.

But does that make my memory useless?

I don’t think so.

The way I see it, it’s still a powerful way to share with my daughter that India has always had a rich food culture; that we had amazingly inventive ways of managing cold-chain logistics before electricity came along; that small enterprises thrived with Indian innovation and still do. That’s my heritage, and I’m proud of it.

Beyond that, some stories are just fun. They expand a child’s sense of what life can look like. Those weird and wonderful “did you really do that!!?” conversations fuel creativity and bring joy to kids. What’s not to like??

And honestly, that’s part of why we’re building Moli.Boli.

Not just to teach words, but to help kids inherit texture. Humour. Memory. Emotional connection. The feeling of knowing where a piece of you comes from.

Because not everything valuable needs to be “useful.”

Some things matter because they help a child feel rooted. Some because they spark imagination. Some because they become stories they’ll one day tell their own kids.

“What’s one tiny, oddly specific thing from “home” your kids can barely believe was real?

And does nostalgia distort heritage… or is it part of how we keep it alive?

I’d love to hear your stories. Drop us a note at hello@moliboli.shop.”