Inside Track: Maratha latecomers

Indian Express

13-07-2025

Sitting in the safety of Delhi, away from Raj Thackeray's slap-happy goons, I admit ashamedly that although my formative years were spent largely in Mumbai, my Marathi remains rudimentary. I am not alone — just 36 per cent of people in the city consider Marathi their mother tongue. Yet, once again, there is a move to exhibit Marathi chauvinism by compelling residents of this cosmopolitan, multi-cultural metropolis to speak the same language as the rest of the state.
The champions of 'speak only in Marathi', forget that Mumbai's history and heritage is distinct and different from the rest of Maharashtra. The Marathi manoos are actually relatively late migrants to Mumbai and the city precedes the state. The original inhabitants of the islands were Koli fisherfolk and Aagri farmers from the Konkan. Portuguese missionaries converted some locals to Catholicism who were latter dubbed 'East Indians', since they worked for the East India company. The Portuguese seized the seven islands of Mumbai from the Gujarat ruler Bahadur Shah in 1534 AD, but shortsightedly handed it over to the British in 1668 as part of the dowry of their princess, Catherine de Braganza. The Parsis arrived in Mumbai from Gujarat and dominated during the city's early history. In 1750, they built Asia's first dry port. Many of the landmark heritage buildings, statues and seminal institutions in the city have Parsi origins.
For over a decade after Independence, Gujarat and Maharashtra were part of Bombay state, as Prime Minister Nehru was reluctant to split the state along linguistic lines. But pressure mounted from both Maharashtra and Gujarat. The real dispute was over who would retain Mumbai. The Gujaratis believed they had an equal claim since the population of Gujaratis and Maharashtrians in the city was approximately equal. But after the bifurcation of Bombay state in 1960, the city became part of Maharashtra. Marathi speakers, however, never succeeded in dominating the city's ethos, which reflects India's plurality. Mumbai attracts people from all over, not just for job opportunities but because of its vibrancy, urbane outlook and Bollywood. Today the number of north Indians from UP, Bihar and MP probably equals the native Marathi speakers. There are a sizable numbers of Gujaratis, Goans Punjabis, South Indians and Sindhis as well.
If I never learnt to speak Marathi fluently in my childhood, it was because then there was no impetus to do so. In those days, Gujarati was the lingua franca in the courts, Dalal Street and the business world; even household helps came from Goa or Gujarat. In school, I was exempted from studying Marathi because my father was in a transferable government job. In later years, the pressure to learn Marathi increased. My sister, a lecturer in a Mumbai government college, had per force to learn Marathi in her middle age as her salary increments were blocked until she passed the language exam. In the rest of Maharashtra, where people speak only in Marathi, knowing the language is essential. My parents, grandparents and even anglicised cousins from Pune spoke fluent Marathi. So do traders and shopkeepers from Gujarat and Rajasthan who have settled in the state for generations.
Language is a matter of convenience and choice, not to be exploited for grandstanding and political gain. The Thackeray cousins have raised the 'speak only in Marathi issue' to woo the sizable Marathi vote bank as the long-delayed BMC poll is finally likely to be held. The opposition Sena eagerly seized the opportunity when CM Devendra Fadnavis misguidedly sought to introduce Hindi at the junior level in schools as part of the three-language formula. (Fadnavis has since withdrawn the order.)
The various Shiv Senas should remember that founder Bal Thackeray never made speaking Marathi in Mumbai part of his agenda. Whenever I interviewed him, he was happy to speak to me in English. Thackeray's original platform was that Marathi speakers get a fair deal in employment in the city since South Indians, because of their superior English language skills, were appropriating a disproportionate share of jobs. Only later did North Indians and Muslims become Sena targets.
Just as it is ill-advised to force Mumbaikars to speak Marathi, it is equally short-sighted to push Hindi on a reluctant southern populace. Less than 43 per cent of India speak Hindi as their mother tongue. While it is politically in vogue today for the ruling party leaders to denounce speaking in English as a colonial hangover, for most Indians, particularly in cities, English remains the language of aspiration and ambition. Nearly all my domestic helps have informed me proudly that they work for the extra income so that that they can send their children to private English-medium schools and pay tuition fees. For our politicians, the overwhelming majority of whom send their own offspring to English-speaking institutions, to rail against English is hypocritical.