
‘I may be Marathi but…': Bal Thackeray's old video resurfaces amid Hindi language row, MNS slapgate
In the video, Bal Thackeray speaks in Marathi, saying that he may be a Marathi in Maharashtra, but he is also a Hindu. 'I may be a Marathi in Maharashtra, but I am a Hindu in Hindustan,' he is heard saying in the video.
On Saturday, Shiv Sena (UBT) chief Uddhav Thackeray and Maharashtra Navnirman Sena chief Raj Thackeray shared the political stage after almost 20 years.
Raj claimed that the three-language formula, which the BJP-led state government tried to impose, was a precursor to its plan to separate Mumbai from Maharashtra.
After two decades, the two cousins shared the public stage and hosted a victory gathering, titled 'Awaj Marathicha', to celebrate the rollback of two Government Resolutions (GR) issued earlier by the government introducing Hindi as a third language from Class 1 in state schools.
'The Maharashtra Government reversed the decision on the three-language formula due to the strong unity shown by Marathi people. This decision was a precursor to the plan of separating Mumbai from Maharashtra,' the MNS chief said.
'This was an unnecessary issue, and there was no need for it. You may have the majority in the Vidhan Sabha (Assembly), but we rule the streets,' he said.
Late on Sunday, 48-year-old shopkeeper Babulal Chaudhary, who runs the 'Jodhpur Sweet Shop' in Mumbai's Mira Road suburb, was slapped and threatened by seven MNS workers because his staff member spoke to the men in Hindi.
The MNS workers asked Chaudhary and his staff to speak in Marathi, to which the shopkeeper replied that all languages are spoken in the state.
The MNS workers also filmed their assault and posted it on social media.
Referring to the assault, Raj said news channels showed that a Gujarati man was assaulted, but his identity was not known to MNS workers when the altercation started. "There is no need to hit anyone without any reason. But if anyone does drama, then a slap has to be given. But they have to be at fault (for doing so).'
'And whenever you do it, do not shoot videos. The person who gets hit must say that he has been assaulted and not the one who hits. This does not mean there is any need to hit anyone,' Raj said.

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Hans India
23 minutes ago
- Hans India
India's second largest suspension bridge inaugurated
Shivamogga: Bringing an end to a decades-old struggle for safe connectivity, Union Minister for Road Transport and Highways Nitin Gadkari today inaugurated the country's second longest suspension bridge, built across the backwaters of the Sharavati river in Sigandur. Before formally opening the bridge, Minister Gadkari participated in a homa and offered prayers to the Sharavati river — a symbolic tribute to the people whose lives and livelihoods have long been shaped by its waters. Former Chief Minister B.S. Yediyurappa, former Speaker Kagodu Thimmappa, MP B.Y. Raghavendra, BJP State President B.Y. Vijayendra, MLAs Channabasappa, D.S. Arun, Dr. Dhananjay Sarji and hundreds of local residents witnessed the historic moment. The new suspension bridge stands as a vital link for the people living on the Sharavathi island region, who for more than sixty years have battled isolation and danger due to the lack of a permanent connection to the mainland. The bridge — whose construction began in 2010 — has finally been completed in 2025 at a cost of about Rs423.15 crore. As part of the project, the rural road from Sagar town to Marakutuka in Hosanagara taluk was upgraded to a national highway in the first phase, enabling this vital infrastructure to be built. For the people of Sigandur and surrounding villages, this bridge is more than just concrete and steel — it is a symbol of survival and a testament to relentless community struggle. The story of this bridge goes back to 1960, when a massive reservoir was built near Linganamakki on the Sharavathi river to meet Karnataka's power needs. In the process, entire villages with fertile agricultural lands were submerged. Hundreds of families were relocated overnight by the then Karnataka Electricity Corporation, loaded into trucks and scattered across parts of Shivamogga and Bhadravathi taluks. The backwaters that submerged their lands also isolated the communities that stayed back. Surrounded by water, they were cut off from the mainland, denied access to basic necessities like healthcare, schools, markets and emergency services. During the monsoons, rising water levels made the situation worse. Many villagers lost their lives trying to cross the backwaters on makeshift rafts, while others endured hours-long detours.' Recalling this painful history, MP B.Y. Raghavendra said, 'When there was no bridge, people risked their lives on rafts and many perished. So many fought for decades demanding a safe bridge. Today, it stands here because of that struggle. As their representative, I feel honoured to be part of this historic day.' Local residents had repeatedly staged protests and padayatras, travelling on foot from the island to Sagar and even Shivamogga district headquarters to press their demands. Their long struggle saw its first small victory when the inland water transport department introduced a launch (boat) service to ferry people. But this too fell short of the region's needs, and emergency situations often forced people to travel 70 km around the backwaters to reach Sagar town. Former Chief Minister B.S. Yediyurappa is credited with pushing the project through when he was MP from Shivamogga. He secured central government clearance for the bridge and ensured the rural road was upgraded to a national highway. Funds worth over Rs423 crore were subsequently released to realise this vital link. Today, the new bridge promises to transform the lives of thousands living on Sharavati island. For the first time in decades, villagers will have uninterrupted access to emergency services, hospitals, schools, markets and employment opportunities. What was once a treacherous, life-threatening boat ride or a tiring detour will now be a simple drive across the backwaters. For the residents of this remote region, the Sigandur suspension bridge is not just a feat of engineering but a lifeline that binds them to the rest of Karnataka. It marks the end of decades of helpless isolation and opens the door to better education, healthcare, jobs and prosperity. Speaking at the inauguration, Minister Gadkari praised the resilience of the people and assured continued support for rural connectivity. The event, steeped in emotion and pride, also served as a reminder of how infrastructure can reshape destinies when people's voices are finally heard. What once seemed an impossible dream — a safe crossing over the vast Sharavathi backwaters — now stands tall, carrying not just vehicles but the hopes and struggles of an entire generation.


Hans India
36 minutes ago
- Hans India
Siddaramaiah alleges protocol violation over Sigandur bridge inauguration
Bengaluru: Chief Minister Siddaramaiah has expressed his displeasure over what he termed a 'breach of protocol' in the inauguration of the Sigandur Bridge — the state's largest and the nation's sixth-largest cable-stayed bridge. The Chief Minister stated that he was invited late to the July 14 event and had prior commitments in Vijayapura, prompting him to write to Union Minister for Road Transport and Highways, Nitin Gadkari, requesting a change in schedule. The request, however, was not accommodated. Speaking to the media in Bengaluru, Siddaramaiah said, 'We were not consulted prior to scheduling the inauguration. I personally spoke to Minister Gadkari and he agreed to consider rescheduling, but BJP leaders in the state seem to have pushed ahead.' He added that this disregard of protocol was a matter of concern and that no Congress leaders — including local MLAs and ministers — would attend the event as a mark of protest. In his official communication, Siddaramaiah wrote: 'I was not consulted before finalising the Shivamogga National Highway projects' dedication and foundation ceremony on July 14th, despite my name being included. Due to prior commitments in Vijayapura, I have requested Shri @nitin_gadkari to reschedule the event.' Responding sharply to the Chief Minister's statements, Leader of the Opposition R. Ashoka criticized Siddaramaiah, saying, 'While the people of the Sharavathi backwaters region are celebrating the fulfilment of a 60-year dream, decorating their homes and villages for the bridge inauguration, the Chief Minister is creating unnecessary controversy.' Ashoka further remarked, 'Is this frustration because the Modi-led central government accomplished in one term what Congress couldn't in 60 years? Or did Rahul Gandhi instruct you not to attend the inauguration? When the party high command calls, you rush to Delhi in special flights, but you won't attend a historic inauguration in Karnataka?' Calling Siddaramaiah's comments 'unfortunate,' Ashoka said, 'The people of Karnataka are truly unlucky to have a leader who chooses political point-scoring over joining citizens in a moment of pride.'


Scroll.in
38 minutes ago
- Scroll.in
Hindi's Hindutva problem that supporters are not ready to reckon with
The controversy in Maharashtra over the imposition of Hindi has once again brought the language to the centre of a national debate. In April, the Bharatiya Janata Party-led Maharashtra government issued an order making Hindi a compulsory third language in schools. The move faced fierce opposition and criticism from the parties led by cousins Raj Thackeray and Uddhav Thackeray, following which it was swiftly rolled back in June. But the episode has stirred discomfort beyond Maharashtra, particularly in the so-called Hindi heartland. On social media, many self-identified Hindi-speakers expressed anger, not only at the rejection of Hindi in the classroom, but at reports that individuals in Mumbai had been physically assaulted for speaking Hindi, accused of ignoring Marathi. This has triggered the familiar argument: no one should be forced to speak a language nor prevented from speaking one. Yet those voicing this sentiment are often silent when Hindi is imposed elsewhere – through state policy, bureaucracy, or cultural dominance. They regard Hindi as a necessary, if bitter, medicine – one that will supposedly integrate the 'non-Hindi' Indian into the national mainstream. At the same time, many of these voices oppose Karnataka's directive that all schools, including central boards, like the Central Board for Secondary Education, introduce Kannada. Why should Hindi be compulsory in non-Hindi regions but not Kannada in Karnataka? If Hindi is necessary to thrive in India, why is Kannada not essential for life in Bengaluru? It is important to be clear here: those who attack others for not speaking Marathi are not defenders of the language. They are agents of a majoritarian politics in which Marathi is merely a pretext. The same, in truth, applies to the loudest champions of Hindi. Their allegiance is not to a literary tradition or linguistic richness but a political project: Hindi becomes a vehicle, not a value. In Tamil Nadu, no one is stopping anyone from learning Hindi, but imposition is wrong. If you want to impose Hindi in Tamil Nadu, then let's impose Tamil in Uttar Pradesh: @dharanisalem, Spokesperson, DMK #PawanKalyan #Super6 #HindiLanguage #LanguageRow | @akshita_n — IndiaToday (@IndiaToday) July 14, 2025 When violence is enacted in the name of language, the issue ceases to be linguistic. It becomes a matter of power, of asserting dominance over communities that are seen as outsiders. Especially when such violence is collective and organised, language becomes a stand-in for territorial control and cultural assertion. Some Hindi speakers protest: 'We have never forced our language on anyone.' But this selective memory erases the lived reality of non-Hindi speakers in cities like Delhi, Patna, or Varanasi – Tamils, Malayalis, Manipuris – who have acquired functional, even fluent, Hindi through daily life, not coercion. Their children learn it in school. But must the same logic apply in reverse? Should residents of Tamil Nadu or Karnataka be expected to mirror this? The claim that Hindi makes one 'more Indian' is deeply flawed. Does speaking or knowing Hindi confer a deeper Indianness? Are Hindi speakers more Indian than those who speak Tamil, Assamese, or Bengali? The myth of Hindi as India's unifying language has long been dismantled. Today, for better or worse, English functions as the lingua franca across universities, courts, corporations and bureaucracies. Not knowing Hindi is not a barrier to participating in public life. Those who insist otherwise are rarely asked: in what way is Hindi essential? Supporters of Hindi often express surprise at the resistance the language faces in Maharashtra, Tamil Nadu or Karnataka. Why, they ask, should people oppose Hindi so vehemently? Why should they – the Hindiwalas – be expected to learn regional languages? Many even dream of a future where every Indian learns Hindi, so that they can relate to the Hindi speaker. A recent video showed a bank employee in Bengaluru declaring that she would speak only in Hindi with a customer. Where once public-facing professionals – doctors, clerks, shopkeepers – learned the local language, today there is defiance: 'We will not speak Kannada. You must speak our Hindi.' Viral video shows a bank manager in Karnataka refusing to speak Kannada, insisting on Hindi: 'I will not speak Kannada for you.' The incident has sparked outrage, drawing sharp criticism from Kannada activists and political leaders. — Mojo Story (@themojostory) May 22, 2025 What lies behind this entitlement? Do Hindi speakers believe they own the country by sheer force of numbers? Do they see their claim on the republic as more legitimate than that of others? Is Delhi the centre and the rest of India their fiefdom? Is that why they feel no obligation to learn Marathi in Mumbai, while expecting Mumbaikars to speak Hindi? Why is that even in Mumbai, the city of Hindi cinema, there is resistance to Hindi? Because the spread of Hindi is not organic. It travels not by affection, but by state sponsorship: through official mandates, public funds and policy incentives. It is buoyed by the demographic muscle it enjoys in Parliament and bureaucracy. No other Indian language enjoys the same institutional backing. In Indian embassies, officers are assigned to promote Hindi. Government recruitment prioritises Hindi translators over others. Official communication defaults to Hindi even in places and institutions where it is unnecessary. They see massive funds being allocated for Hindi to be made a language of the United Nations Organisation. Speakers of Tamil, Bengali, Malayalam see this and understand the politics behind it. They, too, are citizens of this republic. They, too, are entitled to cultural dignity and state resources. But Hindi gets a differential treatment by the Union government, privileged over others. Why must one learn Hindi? Is it a repository of global knowledge? A gateway to world literature? Would a Tamil speaker feel drawn to Hindi for these reasons? The answer is no. Nor is Hindi a bridge to the country's many languages. Translation initiatives, by Sahitya Akademi, National Book Trust, remain sparse and focused mostly on creative literature. Most of these works are already more widely accessible in English. Once again, Hindi appears optional, not essential. It is unfortunate that the BJP continues to feed the illusion that Hindi is now receiving its rightful place through measures like introducing it as a medium of medical or engineering education. These initiatives were announced with fanfare and quietly abandoned when students rejected them. Yet, the party continues to boast of these policies, misleading Hindi speakers and offering them a false sense of linguistic pride. They live in a bubble of self-deception. Today, Hindi's most potent function is not literary or cultural but political. That explains the opposition to it. The Hindiwalas often say that it is the politicians of these non-Hindi states who oppose Hindi whereas the people are learning it. That is exactly the point. There is no opposition to Hindi as a language but Hindi as the vehicle of North India-centric majoritarian politics. Hindi is vital to the project of Hindutva. One must ask why the ideologues of Hindutva, most of them from Maharashtra, choose Hindi as their language of power? The answer is not cultural, but demographic. The Hindi belt is the largest reservoir of the imagined Hindi/Hindu majority. Here, Hindutva manufactures its strength of numbers. How is this number fabricated? Those who identify Hindi as their mother tongue are often either Bhojpuri or Maithili or Bajjika speakers. Hindi is not their first language. But they are counted as Hindi speakers which helps swell the number of Hindi speakers. Those who remember Partition can recall how Urdu speakers entered Hindi as their mother tongue. The battle for Hindi and against Urdu was fought in the medium of Urdu. This was to inflate the numbers of the Hindi speakers. In this sense, Hindi is not a language but an instrument of majoritarian politics. Three years ago, a Bengali friend from Jabalpur told me of an interesting event. A senior leader of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh – himself a Bengali – addressed a gathering of Bengalis in Hindi in a bold, even insolent, gesture. His reasoning: Bengalis, he claimed, originally migrated from Kannauj in Uttar Pradesh, so Hindi is their true tongue. They must adopt and own it as their language, he insisted. This is the logic behind the RSS slogan in Bengal: 'No Durga, No Kali; Only Ram and Bajrangbali.' To replace Durga with Ram is to overwrite Bengali cultural identity with a north India-centric Hindi-ised Hindutva identity. Similarly, the elevation of the deity Vamana over Bali in Kerala represents an effort to impose a Sanskritic, North Indian order on Dravidian memory and Malayalam culture. Let there be no ambiguity about the project of this political Hindi: the Hindi promoted today is not the Hindi of Gandhi, writers and poets like Premchand, Mahadevi Verma, Muktibodh, Agyeya or Omprakash Valmiki. It is not the syncretic Hindi that embraced Urdu. What is seen today is a purified, Sanskritised and sanitised version, purged of 'foreign' words, molded into a Hindu tongue. This is a resentful, weaponised Hindi, the Hindi of Hindutva. That is why political scientist Suhas Palshikar warns that leaders like Raj Thackeray and Uddhav Thackeray, if they continue their dalliance with Hindutva, will soon find themselves ensnared by this Hindi. Hindutva and Hindi are no longer separable. Why else would Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis advocate Hindi, or Andhra Pradesh Deputy Chief Minister Pawan Kalyan champion it in the Telugu state? The answer is clear: both are emissaries of Hindutva's politics and Hindi is now its standard. Hindi speakers, too, must confront this uncomfortable truth. For their own sake, and for the sake of Hindi, they must begin the difficult task of disentangling their language from the ideology that now speaks in its name. The sooner this happens, the better. For Hindi. And for the republic.