I hope this storm in a linguistic teacup passes off peacefully, but it pays to remember that fair play is critical, and politics — be it of language, caste or religion — happens when sound governance is sacrificed at the altar of rhetorical populism.
Published Jun 02, 2025 | 9:00 AM ⚊ Updated Jun 02, 2025 | 9:00 AM
Kamal Haasan.
Synopsis: Kamal Haasan is currently in the news for a controversial foot-in-the-mouth statement on Kannada having originated from Tamil. If the actor had carefully crafted his words to say that Kannada and Tamil rounded Dravidian scripts are distinct from Hindi’s Devanagari, he would be home safe.
I wish Kamal Haasan would change his name to a Tamil version and set an example for the Dravidian chic he wears on his sleeves. But he is not doing anything about his nomenclature, and thereby hangs a story about pointless controversies over language that we need to avoid.
For the record, his original name is spelt Kamalahasan, which he somewhat anglicised in a split of convenience. As it happens, Kamal is a Sanskrit word for Lotus, and depending on how you interpret the “Haasan” part, it might mean “face” or “smile.”
A pure Tamil translation of his name might be Thamaraimugan (The Lotus-faced One) or Thamaraisirippon (One with a Lotus-like smile) — and if it is the former, it would have its origin in Sanskrit.
Phew! Why are we splitting hairs about this?
The answer is clear. Kamal Haasan, currently in the news (among other things) for a controversial foot-in-the-mouth statement on Kannada having originated from Tamil, is not apologising for what he said, but is making motherhood statements about how he loves Kannada, doing linguistic twists that remind one of his overdone dance movements in Sagara Sangamam, a 1983 Telugu film starring the polyglot!
As a lover of linguistics who has been in touch with a few languages, I love studying the etymology of some words — meaning their origins. That throws up fascinating patterns that a professor or a compulsive lover of languages would appreciate. But when it enters futile arguments, it becomes dubious politics — and in the case of the famous actor-turned-politician — generates unnecessary, ill-timed tensions the nation could do without.
There are too many linguistically charged political coincidences this month that make my head spin. But first, let me indulge a bit on how words move between languages.
The popular Tamil word for “month” (derived from moon) is “maasam” or “maatham”, which has its origins in Sanskrit. However, in Hindi, which officially is a Sanskrit-based language, the popular word for “month” is ‘mahina, ‘ which you can link to the word “mah” — which turns out to be the Persian word for the moon! And what is the Kannada word for “month”? That would be “Thingalu”.
Surprise! “Thingal” is the “pure” Tamil word for both “moon” and “month” – made famous by poetess Andal in the Thiruppavai that marks the holy month of Margazhi (Margashirsh in Sanskrit).
I love this linguistic merry-go-round in which languages evolve, imbibing words from other languages and losing some of their own as a result of migration, trade, invasion or colonisation.
Languages and dialects, and even names, morph gently every hundred miles as we travel. While southern Karnataka has its farming community of Gowdas, just across the state border, their Tamil counterparts are called Gounders.
How does it matter when things sit more easily on the tongue and are of everyday utility?
Kamal Haasan may have a contested technical point as I have read a book on Tamil literature that refers to Kannada as “Karunattu Tamizh” (Tamil spoken in Karnataka) but it is a contested one precisely because words of Sanskrit and Tamil origin, not to speak of syntax and usage, have mixed considerably over millennia, making language debates mostly pointless.
If the actor had carefully crafted his words to say that Kannada and Tamil rounded Dravidian scripts are distinct from Hindi’s Devanagari, he would be home safe.
However, as cynics say, he may be creating headlines to boost his latest movie, Thug Life, and maybe playing a linguistic thug offscreen with the box office in mind. Who knows, there might be something in the movie to do all this! Actors can act in real life alongside reel life.
Also, Kamal Haasan has just been nominated to the Rajya Sabha by the DMK, which, for the record, is Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam. By making statements that its Tamil hardliners love, KH may be mixing gratitude with attitude while couching it all in platitudes. All I want to say is: “That’s not fair, dude!”
Southern states need to set national examples by transcending language and religious barriers. A smart use of linguistic identity to counter those who believe in the “one nation, one language, one religion” folks may be in order, but not when there is a south-south discord that is counter-productive.
I note with a sense of irony another magnificent coincidence. While a viral video of a State Bank of India officer speaking in Hindi and English but refusing to entertain a Mysuru customer in Kannada raised hackles, Banu Mushtaq’s “Heart Lamp,” a collection of Kannada short stories highlighting the plight of Muslim women translated into English, has won the prestigious International Booker Prize.
I love it when a writer arrives afresh to break a common myth — that Urdu and Muslims are one. A Hindu like Munshi Premchand wrote in Urdu, and Banu Mushtaq writes in Kannada. So what? India is a nation of glorious intersections, and the interplay of languages is part of the national mosaic.
Both Hindi and Urdu, as we know them, did not exist a thousand years ago, unlike Kannada and Tamil, which have histories that go back more than 2,000 years. The interplay of Persian and Sanskrit gave rise to Rekhta and Hindavi, which became refined Urdu and Hindi in colonial times. But it is difficult to imagine India today without Ghalib, Gulzar and ghazals — all of which have an Urdu connection.
Here is some fascinating trivia on Devendra Fadnavis, the chief minister of Maharashtra and Amit Shah, the home minister of India. Both are staunch Rashrtiya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) incubated Hindu nationalists who bat for Sanskrit, but both their surnames are of Persian origin.
Manufacturing monochromatic political unicorns is not rooted in real-life history that has seen a Khan fighting for Shivaji and a Man Singh standing up with Akbar.
You can not-so-gently point to those who want national unity that unity cannot be at the cost of cherished identities. You cannot be asking for one barrier to be removed while erecting another, whether it is through a selective/partial reading of history, dog-whistling to uneducated “thug life” followers or making statements from the government that contradict loud voices within your political party.
I hope this storm in a linguistic teacup passes off peacefully, but it pays to remember that fair play is critical, and politics — be it of language, caste or religion — happens when sound governance is sacrificed at the altar of rhetorical populism.
(The writer is a senior journalist and commentator who has worked for Reuters, The Economic Times, Business Standard, and Hindustan Times. He posts on X as @madversity. Views are personal. Edited by Muhammed Fazil.)
