To define a country with so many religions, castes, ethnic groups, natural diversities, linguistic societies, and cultures as one nation and lead it toward a single aspiration is a highly complex and nearly impossible task.
Published Jul 07, 2025 | 11:00 AM ⚊ Updated Jul 07, 2025 | 11:00 AM
Love for one’s language or opposition to another’s is not caused by the language’s alphabets, vocabulary, sweetness, or harshness.
Synopsis: Why is Telangana’s ruling party ignoring the long-term political ambitions behind Hindi dominance? Why is Andhra Pradesh, which once opposed Hindi tooth and nail, now swallowing this bitter pill? Is it apathy? A sense that “this has always been the case”? Fine, the NEP says technical education should be offered in mother tongues. Hindi states are acting fast on that. But what have the Telugu states done so far to prepare textbooks in Telugu for engineering or medicine?
“Craving for power, caste and communal divisions, and linguistic hatred flare up today.
“Everyone robs the other.” (from a song in the Telugu film Velugu Needalu)
Just 14 years after Independence, poet Sri Sri, in a film song, bemoaned the country’s direction – “Where is this nation headed?”. Among his concerns was linguistic hatred.
If we remember that the freedom movement was closely followed by struggles for the formation of linguistic states, it is no surprise that languages became a basis for inequality and aspirations among the people of India.
To define a country with so many religions, castes, ethnic groups, natural diversities, linguistic societies, and cultures as one nation and lead it toward a single aspiration is a highly complex and nearly impossible task.
To say that social movements representing specific groups create discord and division is to misinterpret reality.
It is because of existing inequalities and exclusions that unity does not form easily among the people. Competing interests pit communities against one another.
Love for one’s language or opposition to another’s is not caused by the language’s alphabet, vocabulary, sweetness, or harshness.
Loving a language does not mean loving its letters and sounds. Opposing a language’s dominance essentially means opposing the dominance of those speaking that language. It could be economic, social, or cultural dominance.
In united Madras State, the fact that even for a minor job in Guntur district, a Tamilian was posted fanned the flames of the Andhra movement.
That movement was a rejection of Tamil dominance and an assertion of Telugu pride and historical identity.
Similarly, the Telangana movement within the Telugu-speaking community revealed internal inequalities. Looking down upon Telangana Telugu was another sign of such discrimination.
In the national freedom struggle, North Indian dominance and the Congress party’s projection of Hindi as a symbol of nationalism were strongly opposed in the South, particularly by Dravidian movements.
Had national leadership at the time adopted a more inclusive approach, their dream of national unity might have stood a better chance.
Except for the Communists’ success in Kerala, it was the Dravidian political parties that first broke the Congress party’s monopoly in post-Independence India.
In the Bombay Presidency, people spoke Marathi, Kannada, and Gujarati.
The Samyukta Maharashtra movement was launched to demand a separate state with Bombay as its capital for Marathi speakers.
Gujaratis, who held economic dominance over Bombay, wanted the city for themselves. Eventually, Marathis not only separated from the Gujaratis but also managed to secure the financial capital of the country for themselves.
That struggle gave rise to a strong regional consciousness and language identity. Anti-Gujarati sentiment was a part of it.
Claiming to protect Bombay from outsiders, Shiv Sena adopted regional and linguistic chauvinism in the 1960s, engaging in violent acts against South Indians.
Their big mistake, however, was tying Maratha identity with anti-Muslim and Hindu fundamentalist ideologies.
Consequently, when Hindutva swept the country, Shiv Sena found itself either reduced to a minor player or absorbed by the larger movement. Realising its loss of distinct identity, it had to rethink its path.
Today, Shiv Sena factions are trying to reunite, and it appears to be an effort to resist the Hindutva bulldozer with the weapon of regionalism.
When the Maharashtra government decided to implement Hindi as a mandatory third language, both factions – Bal Thackeray’s Shiv Sena and Raj Thackeray’s Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS) – vehemently opposed the move.
On July 5, they even held a massive joint rally and hinted at political collaboration. Some say this unity, which even Balasaheb couldn’t achieve, has been made possible thanks to opposition to Hindi imposition.
People like Rajdeep Sardesai ask why language issues are still being dragged on.
They argue that elite families in Tamil Nadu send their kids to private schools with Hindi as an optional subject, and in Mumbai, everyone studies in English. To them, debates over Marathi or Hindi are irrelevant now.
Corporate intellectuals preach that Mumbai belongs to no single language or culture. One stockbroker posted on X, “I’ll never learn Marathi,” and his office was vandalised by MNS workers.
Another shopkeeper was attacked earlier for not speaking Marathi. These violent acts are undoubtedly unacceptable, but they stem from more than just linguistic passion.
By opposing Hindi imposition and Hindi speakers’ dominance, Shiv Sena and MNS are sending a strong message to their political rivals, the ultra-nationalist forces.
Their goal is to challenge the Hindutva narrative with linguistic nationalism.
The BJP-led Maharashtra government, in line with the National Education Policy (NEP), issued orders to mandate Hindi as a third language.
In contrast, Tamil Nadu publicly opposed the NEP, and is facing pushback from the Centre for its defiance.
But is Hindi opposition still as strong in Tamil Nadu? While lakhs of North Indian workers are employed there, and many Tamils voluntarily learn Hindi, that doesn’t erase the political relevance of Hindi resistance.
Opposition to Modi and Shah is now manifesting as opposition to Hindi in Tamil Nadu.
This has created a major dilemma for ultra-nationalist parties. They want to use Hindi to tie everyone into one linguistic thread, making India a monolingual market for corporates, and reducing linguistic diversity.
Regional languages would then become inferior tongues, and regional leaders would be restricted to their respective states.
But now, opposition to Hindi is coming not only from Dravidian states but also from “Hindi sister states” like Maharashtra and Bengal.
While efforts are made to bring the whole country onto the same page, why these cracks and explosions? These developments are certainly unwelcome for Amit Shah.
To counter this, English is now being portrayed as the common enemy of Indian languages. The rhetoric has shifted to “We are all Indian language speakers.”
In the past, most Congress leaders tried to make Hindi the national official language but failed.
Recognising that English, lacking any native community in India, would not favour any one group, they accepted it as a link language, a compromise we continue to follow.
Ironically, those who once opposed mother-tongue education at the primary level citing job prospects don’t challenge Amit Shah’s colonial push for Hindi. That’s surprising.
So now the question arises: With Maharashtra and Tamil Nadu opposing Hindi domination, why are Telangana and Andhra Pradesh silently endorsing the National Education Policy and the three-language formula?
Why is Telangana’s ruling party ignoring the long-term political ambitions behind Hindi dominance?
Why is Andhra Pradesh, which once opposed Hindi tooth and nail, now swallowing this bitter pill?
Is it apathy? A sense that “this has always been the case”?
Fine, the NEP says technical education should be offered in mother tongues. Hindi states are acting fast on that. But what have the Telugu states done so far to prepare textbooks in Telugu for engineering or medicine?
If Revanth Reddy or Chandrababu Naidu are said to lack love for Telugu, it doesn’t mean they don’t love letters or phonetics.
It means they lack concern for the self-respecting progress of Telugu people, and fail to understand the relation between language and the advancement of its society.
(Edited by Dese Gowda)
