In Punjab, “tussi” is not just a pronoun. It is the grammar of respect, conveying dignity irrespective of social standing. (File Photo)Written by Darpan AhluwaliaBack at the National Police Academy, during language classes for Punjab cadre IPS probationers, I, being a native Punjabi with a lifetime of fluency, often used the time to catch up on the week’s backlog of sleep. One officer with roots in an eastern state, diligently taking notes, asked for quick “tips” to act and speak like a native. The foremost one I told him was this: the subculture of our land lies in the use of “tussi” for both young and old, and that he should never resort to “tu” to address anyone in the field.In Punjab, “tussi” is not just a pronoun. It is the grammar of respect, conveying dignity irrespective of social standing. Punjabi households teach “tussi” as the default, with families correcting children early. A casual “tu” can undo rapport within seconds. Sikhism emphasises collective identity and equality of all people, irrespective of race, religion, or gender. Its tenets further reinforced the use of “tussi” (a second person plural) as the dominant form of respectful address, while “tu” (a second person singular) became restricted, almost taboo, in polite speech.Language carries emotional weight. Even when intent is not harsh, the word “tu” lands with a sting because it is read as diminishment. Over time, I have observed that people, especially in leadership roles, who habitually use “tu” are often perceived as brusque, even when their actions are otherwise fair. A simple shift to “tussi” can transform how their leadership is received.This small linguistic choice is also a powerful policing tool. It de-escalates situations, signals humility, and reinforces that the uniform serves the public. Over the years, I have seen that adopting this cultural idiom of respect, among others, opens doors that rank alone cannot. This micro-behaviour, towards not just the public but subordinates alike, creates a baseline of dignity that strengthens team morale. Even within Punjabi families, “tu-tada” does more damage than the disagreement itself. It wounds dignity, and dignity is the essence of all cultures.My father has always had a way with people. It isn’t charm alone; it is the respect he accords to everyone. He makes it a point to address people by their names, workers, staff, officials, cutting across every socio-economic divide. If he doesn’t know a name, he asks, or simply reads it off a nameplate. That small act makes people feel seen. It remains one of my biggest takeaways in people skills.“Tussi” functions in exactly the same way. It is the linguistic equivalent of addressing someone by their name, an immediate acknowledgment of their personhood. People remember less of what you say and more of how you made them feel seen, and sometimes that feeling begins with a single word.Story continues below this adThe advice I gave that afternoon at the Academy was simple: begin with “tussi”. Respect is not a strategy; it is culture. In policing and beyond, this micro-choice becomes a macro-tool. And in Punjab, it is the shortest route to trust. Authority is accepted, but respect is remembered. Sometimes, the smallest word determines which of the two prevails.(The writer is a Punjab-cadre IPS officer)