08-05-2025
Pride over prejudice
When some college students requested popular singer Sonu Nigam to perform a Kannada song at a function in Bengaluru, no one expected it would ignite a national controversy. What seemed like an innocuous demand from fans has spiralled into a debate on linguistic chauvinism and insider-outsider dynamics. Sonu Nigam's comparison of the request to the Pahalgam terror attack was not only disproportionate but deeply insensitive, pouring fuel on an already simmering incident has been hastily labelled as another instance of 'Kannada fanaticism', a term often carelessly thrown around. But before labelling it so, it is essential to understand the context behind this linguistic assertiveness. Kannada pride has its roots in a long and historical struggle for identity and fight for Kannada predates the formation of Karnataka itself. The movement to unite Kannada-speaking regions started in the mid-19th century, gaining momentum under the leadership of Alur Venkata Rao in 1903. The Karnataka Ekikarana (unification) movement which began in 1946 culminated in the formation of the state of Mysore in 1956 – a dream that was more about language and culture, than about borders. In 1973, the state was renamed Karnataka, completing an important landmark in the assertion of Kannada the decades, Kannada activism has taken various forms including literary movements, protests and campaigns addressing regional concerns like language issues, culture, water rights and border Gokak agitation in the 1980s was a watershed moment. Led by literary and cultural giants, and later embraced by the masses, including cinema icon Dr Rajkumar, the movement demanded primacy for Kannada in education. Another milestone was the Sarojini Mahishi Committee report (1986) relating to the reservation of jobs for Kannada activism has not been without friction. In the past, Tamil was often seen as a linguistic rival. The Cauvery water dispute between Karnataka and Tamil Nadu triggered violent attacks on Tamils in 1991, with slums torched, businesses targeted and at least 16 lives lost in police firing. Hundreds of Tamils fled the state, leaving scars on Karnataka's social flashpoint occurred in 1994 when the Bengaluru Kendra of Doordarshan introduced a 10-minute Urdu news bulletin, perceived as a direct challenge to Kannada. Protests turned deadly, claiming around 25 lives. There were attempts to communalise the movement during this time, but fortunately, these did not gain lasting traction, allowing Kannada activism to retain its secular the years, various organisations like Kannada Sahitya Parishat and individuals such as Vatal Nagaraj, M Chidananda Murthy, and T A Narayana Gowda have supported the language movement. However, some of their actions have been subject to lacks a resurgence is underway, driven by young, urban professionals. Many Kannadigas working in the IT sector are championing the cause, not by rejecting English, but by demanding importance and respect for Kannada. The target is not Tamil, as in the past, but increasingly Hindi, or more precisely, the 'imposition' of Hindi and the cultural supremacy complex that accompanies is growing against 'outsiders' who settle in Karnataka but refuse to learn Kannada, insisting instead that locals speak in Hindi. This has sparked viral videos, heated social media battles, and real-world confrontations. But at the core of it lies a fundamental question: Why is it acceptable to expect a Kannadiga to learn Hindi, but not the reverse?.Language is more than a tool of communication, it is the heartbeat of the people. The Kannada language encapsulates centuries of poetry, philosophy, art, folklore and music. Disregarding it, especially in its homeland, is not just disrespectful, but could lead to its fervour is not unique to Karnataka – all states have had their moments of linguistic assertion. But Karnataka's struggle has always been a fight for respect, not dominance. It is this nuance that is often lost in polarised are quick to equate the Kannada movement with jingoism, but there is a crucial distinction between asserting one's identity and imposing it on others. Kannadigas are not asking anyone to abandon their language or culture. They are only seeking reciprocity, for their linguistic heritage to be valued alongside the Sonu Nigam controversy is a symptom of a broader challenge: India's struggle to fully embrace its linguistic diversity. The solution lies in promoting multilingualism, respecting the primacy of all languages, and abandoning notions of linguistic superiority. Pride in one's language is not fanaticism, it is the celebration of one's heritage. Ultimately, the path forward is simple: mutual respect and recognition that linguistic diversity enriches the fabric of the nation..(The writer is a Bengaluru- based senior journalist)
