When we think of Karnataka, it's often only associated with Kannada. Maharashtra means Marathi. But perhaps the most uncompromising of all is Tamil Nadu, where even the mention of Hindi is unwelcome.
These language-based discussions are so common these days. In the midst of all this, a book happened to land in my hands, "Ek Shunya Mee" by P. L. Deshpande. While reading it, I came across a beautiful line. Pu La says, “One who truly loves their own language can love all the languages in the world.” It’s like this, someone who understands a mother’s love can see motherhood in every mother.
But looking at the current political narrative around “three-language policy,” “two-language rule,” and sometimes even “only one language,” I wonder are we really in the same country that once proudly spoke of unity in diversity? Or have we lost that country somewhere?
“Speak only Kannada in Karnataka,”
“Only Tamil in Tamil Nadu,”
“Only Marathi in Maharashtra,”
…and similar demands in every other state.
When the topic of which language should be taught in schools comes up, we should really first question: Who is bringing up this issue, and why?
We studied in Marathi-medium schools till 10th grade, and even then, we learned Marathi, Hindi, Sanskrit, and English. Sure, we could choose between Sanskrit or Hindi, but the three-language formula was always there. So what’s new now?
Honestly, I completely agree with what Pu La wrote. He suggested that every Indian school, from grade one to ten, should include at least one poem from each Indian language in textbooks. That way, children would grow up appreciating the beauty of every language. The "my language is better" arrogance would gradually disappear.
Yes, we must take pride in our own language. But pride doesn’t mean treating all other languages as inferior. Cities like Mumbai, Bangalore, Pune, Chennai, and Delhi are living examples of multilingual coexistence. If you were to remove all “non-native” language speakers from any of these cities, the state's economy might just collapse.
In the end, the politicization of language seems more like a tool to divert public attention from real issues. That’s the unfortunate truth.
So, deciding not to give too much importance to this drama, I step out for a cup of tea. And when, in a small Udupi eatery, the person across the counter ignores me after hearing me speak English, I smile politely and say,
“Anna, ondu tea kodi.”
…and pick up my tea coupon with some hesitation!
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