FairPoint: It cannot be about 'patak patak-dubo dubo ke maarenge'

Hans India

3 days ago

New Delhi: Imagine you are walking down the street in Mumbai or Bengaluru or Chennai, minding your own business, when a stranger approaches you and demands that you speak in Marathi, Tamil, Bengali, or Kannada -- languages you may not even understand.
When you fail to respond in the local tongue, you are suddenly slapped, abused, and humiliated. Worse still, the entire incident is recorded on a mobile phone, and within minutes, the clip is shared widely on social media, turning your distress into viral content for public entertainment or political mileage.
It may sound dystopian, but such scenarios are happening in cities like Mumbai and states like Karnataka. Language, a simple medium of communication, is fast turning into a volatile political weapon -- a trigger for outrage, violence, and social division.
Language pride is an emotionally and deeply sensitive issue across many parts of India. Chief Ministers like M.K. Stalin in Tamil Nadu, Siddaramaiah in Karnataka, Mamata Banerjee in West Bengal, and the Thackeray cousins in Maharashtra are all acutely aware of its potency.
For politicians like them, language is not just about culture or identity -- it is a political instrument capable of stirring mass sentiments, consolidating regional vote banks, and even polarising electorates.
India has a long and complex history of language politics. From the anti-Hindi agitations in Tamil Nadu during the 1960s to contemporary protests against language imposition, linguistic identity has consistently been at the centre of regional political mobilisation. The emotional appeal of "mother tongue pride" is a tried and tested formula to whip up public support.
The recent developments in Mumbai are a case in point. With the once-powerful Thackeray cousins -- Uddhav and Raj -- struggling to remain relevant in Maharashtra's political landscape, language pride is being resurrected as a lifeline. Their public reconciliation signals an attempt to regain political ground by becoming the self-appointed custodians of Marathi identity.
However, the people of Maharashtra are not naive. They understand that this sudden display of unity is less about shared vision and more about shared desperation.
The cousins have seen their influence wane considerably. Uddhav Thackeray, despite briefly serving as the Chief Minister, was largely perceived as a compromise candidate rather than a leader with mass appeal. The 2024 Assembly election results further underlined the shrinking support base for his faction.
Now, with the crucial Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) elections looming -- a contest over a civic body with a staggering Rs 70,000 crore budget -- the stakes have never been higher.
The Thackerays have held sway over the BMC for nearly three decades, barring a brief interruption between 1992 and 1996. Retaining control over this massive urban apparatus is central to their political survival.
But they face formidable opposition: the BJP, in alliance with Eknath Shinde's breakaway Shiv Sena and Ajit Pawar's NCP faction, is aggressively eyeing the BMC. After suffering a humiliating defeat in the Assembly polls, Uddhav Thackeray cannot afford another loss. In this context, appealing to Marathi pride and painting themselves as the last guardians of the city's identity becomes a convenient narrative to sell.
It is purely political optics for Thackerays, and similarly, the language issue is an important tool for regional satraps like DMK's M.K. Stalin or Trinamool Congress supremo Mamata Banerjee.
In Tamil Nadu, CM Stalin has taken the language issue to new heights, actively resisting the perceived imposition of Hindi through the National Education Policy's three-language formula.
His party, the DMK, has historically opposed Hindi dominance, and Stalin continues this legacy. He has even popularised the hashtag 'StopHindiImposition', turning language resistance into a cultural movement that transcends party lines.
Stalin's support for the Thackeray cousins' stance against Hindi imposition is not just symbolic -- it reflects a broader, pan-regional alliance of leaders to take on the Modi-led BJP and NDA at the Centre. For them, language is not just a cultural identity marker; it is a symbol of political autonomy and resistance to homogenisation.
Mamata Banerjee in West Bengal has followed a similar playbook. She is driving the campaign as a protest against the alleged "harassment of Bengali speakers" in BJP-ruled states. She even took out a march in rain-soaked Kolkata in support of her so-called "cause."
Her exact quote was: "What does the BJP think?... They will hurt Bengalis?... They are calling them Rohingya. Rohingya are in Myanmar, not here. 22 lakh poor migrant workers are being targeted. I appeal to them to return home. They will be safe here. The BJP is sending Bengali speakers to detention camps. Is West Bengal not in India?"
Such statements are meant to create mass emotions, which she has successfully been doing. With the Bengal Assembly elections scheduled for next year, the language pride issue can prove to be very sensitive and decisive.
Stalin, Mamata Banerjee, or the Thackeray brothers or all others -- what connects them is the understanding that language can rally masses, create emotional connections, and serve as a formidable shield during political crises.
But the danger lies in crossing the line between pride and prejudice. When language is weaponised to provoke violence, intimidate non-locals, or suppress dissent, it ceases to be a cultural asset and becomes a social liability.
Ask 48-year-old Babulal Choudhary, owner of an eatery in Mira Road, who was beaten by MNS workers for conversing in Hindi on July 1, and he will only talk about fear. Or ask anyone who does not know the local language and is thrashed for this, or ask anyone who is humiliated for not knowing the dialect or not having the right accent. It can be traumatic, but for the politicians, it is only about manipulating public opinion for power.
India thrives on its pluralism -- its ability to accommodate multiple languages, religions, and cultures under one democratic framework. To exploit this diversity for short-term political gains is to endanger the very foundation of Indian unity.
It's time for political leaders to understand that language should be a bridge, not a battleground.
It cannot be "Tumko patak patak ke maarenge (you will be thrashed badly, again and again)" and "Mumbai ke samundar mein dubo dubo ke maarenge (We will thrash them by drowning them repeatedly in the Mumbai sea)."