Language row attempts to revive a dead horse

Hindustan Times

5 days ago

It was the 'swinging sixties' in Allahabad (present-day Prayagraj). British rule had ended two decades ago, but in a city teeming with the old gentry, the colonial ways were still visible. The Civil Lines observed the tradition of a lunch break, and in many shops, salesmen wearing ties could be found speaking in English with their esteemed, genteel customers.
The city was proud of its university, dubbed the Oxford of the East. The Indian Civil Service had been rechristened as the Indian Administrative Service (IAS). Yet the nomenclature change did nothing to dampen its power or its regalia. Admission to Allahabad University was considered the essential first step towards realising the goal of cracking the civil services examination. The city hosted many poets and writers. The city had enough reasons to feel snooty and entitled.
In such an atmosphere, the residents woke up to a surprise one day when they saw slogans written in coal tar on the walls of the local church, convent schools, and some other prominent places debunking the English language exhorting, 'Angrezi hatao, Bharat bachao' (remove English and save the country). In the initial days, people failed to fathom the long-term impact of a larger movement. The anti-English campaign was the brainchild of socialist leader Ram Manohar Lohia, who initiated it in 1957. It took a decade to gather steam, and received the support of the Jana Sangh and other political parties. Sensing an imminent public outcry, then Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri made some critical moves in support of Hindi, leading to violent reactions in the Southern states, resulting in 70 cases of self-immolation or death by poisoning. Some died in the police firing on the protestors.
In 1967, for the first time, assembly elections led to the formation of non-Congress governments in eight states. The language row played a key role in this outcome. It shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. Language is the repository of our cultural moorings, and we shouldn't blame people if they feel emotionally attached to it, considering language as an integral part of their identity.
Language played a pivotal role in the formation of the states of Himachal Pradesh and Haryana, both once a part of Punjab province. While creating these two states, Indira Gandhi wouldn't have imagined in her wildest dreams that the decision would in later years provide impetus to the rise of terrorism in Punjab. Earlier, the mobilisation to create Andhra Pradesh, based on Telugu linguistic identity, witnessed extreme violence.
Let's return to Allahabad. While studying in the state inter college from class 6 to class 8, Hindi, English, and one regional Indian language were compulsory for all the students. I chose Bangla. I am proud that through Bangla, I was able to connect with a great civilisation, its writers, their intellectual depth, philosophy, history, and the nuances of the Independence Movement. The Bangla language and Bengali people helped shape my personality.
This is the reason I was happy when the government of India launched the tri-language formula with some minor tweaks. I firmly believe that every young Indian, along with their mother tongue, should be well-versed in one regional language and in English.
There is no better way to bring Indians closer to their Indian roots. As far as English is concerned, let there be no doubt about its relevance and effectiveness in the age of Artificial Intelligence.
But politics and politicians are on a different tangent. This is the reason we witnessed the spectacle of Uddhav Thackeray and his estranged cousin, Raj, coming together on a public stage, 19 years after parting ways. They insisted they weren't against Hindi, but Marathi should be given its due and respected in Maharashtra. But is it the case?
If there was consistency in their words and deeds, they wouldn't have uploaded viral videos of thugs beating unsuspecting shop owners, insisting that they speak in Marathi. While addressing his workers, Raj Thackrey told them that they can rough up those who fail to speak Marathi, but they shouldn't make and upload videos of this. It's a strange way of showing love for your language.
Unfortunately, this malady is spreading quickly in the neighbouring state of Karnataka. The cyber city of Bengaluru witnessed public shaming of Hindi-speaking people when they failed to speak in Kannada. I believe that those who relocate to a new state should make the effort to learn the local language, but perpetrating violence against those who can't speak the language is not only unconstitutional but a dangerous trend for the nation.
These incidents have opened a personal wound. In 1980, I went to Calcutta (present-day Kolkata) for the first time. At that time, whenever you asked the locals for an address, they would rebuff you, saying they didn't know Hindi. At such times, I would wonder, I could talk in Bengali, but how will anyone survive in the metropolis if they don't know the local language? During the coverage of the Punjab insurgency, I found that people in rural areas had difficulty understanding Hindi.
However, during the last two decades, the winds of encouraging change have been blowing in the southern states. Hindi Heartland isn't far behind. Some months ago, when southern superstar Allu Arjun came to Patna, a huge crowd gathered to welcome him. Can we attribute the miracle to central government services, the old tri-language formula, and the culture of corporatisation?
The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh has tried to douse the flames of the language row by insisting that every Indian language is a national language. However, the moot point is whether politicians will stop fomenting trouble? It pays to remember the language controversy has lost its sting. It can help a politician hiss, but doesn't offer enough political venom to bite.
Shashi Shekhar is editor-in-chief, Hindustan. The views expressed are personal