Maharashtra Deputy Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis deserves full marks for his unambiguous warning to those who resort to violence in the name of linguistic pride. His stand—supporting pride in one’s mother tongue while rejecting linguistic chauvinism and mob justice—needs to be echoed across all states, especially in an increasingly polarized and identity-driven political climate. Recently, some Marathi-speaking goons—reportedly from the Uddhav Thackeray faction of the Shiv Sena—attacked individuals who allegedly “failed” to speak in Marathi. Their thuggish actions were not only illegal but a disgrace to Maharashtra’s rich legacy of inclusivity, intellect, and cultural openness. In a country as diverse as India, where 22 languages are recognised in the Eighth Schedule of the Constitution, such parochialism has no place. Let’s call this what it is—not love for Marathi, but hate for others. And it is born out of political desperation. The Uddhav-led Sena faction, which is quickly losing relevance after the split engineered by Eknath Shinde and the BJP’s support for his faction, seems to have fallen back on its vintage tool of “Marathi manoos” rhetoric. The trouble is, this old script no longer inspires pride—it only provokes shame and disgust. Let’s not forget the dark days of the 1960s and 70s, when similar linguistic thuggery targeted South Indians in Mumbai, often branded as “Madrasis” regardless of whether they were from Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, or Kerala. The infamous slogan “Uthao lungi, bajao pungi” wasn’t just dog-whistle politics—it was hate speech that translated into real violence, discrimination in jobs, and deep social scars. Are we prepared to go down that regressive road again? Fadnavis’ stance is important precisely because he is sending a message that transcends party politics: that being Marathi does not mean being intolerant, and that Indian nationalism isn’t about putting down other Indian identities. Can those who scream “Speak Marathi or leave Maharashtra” tell us whether they are ready to stop watching Hindi movies? Or ban all non-Marathi actors from working in Mumbai’s film industry or OTT platforms? Are they willing to sever ties with the same South India that produces the engineers who run Mumbai’s tech backbone, or the nurses and doctors who staff its hospitals?
This issue is not unique to Maharashtra. A similar brand of linguistic fascism is flourishing in Tamil Nadu, where some Dravidian parties have long vilified Hindi and used anti-North Indian rhetoric to cement their vote banks. Their latest avatar includes campaigns against Hindi signage, Hindi films, and even central government schemes, portraying anything “Hindi” as a threat to Tamil identity. This deliberate sowing of hatred in the name of language is a dangerous cocktail of identity politics and vote-bank manipulation. What both these regional players ignore is that India thrives not despite its linguistic diversity, but because of it. Every Indian language is a national treasure. The Constitution guarantees equal respect for all Indian languages, not just as a feel-good slogan, but as a binding principle that underpins federal unity. It’s time to draw a hard line: linguistic pride is admirable, but linguistic apartheid is a crime. Mob violence based on language must be prosecuted as a hate crime, just as caste or communal violence is. If regional identity becomes a license to assault others, the very idea of India begins to disintegrate. Fadnavis must now walk the talk. His warning must be followed up with strict action—arrests, fast-tracked trials, and public shaming of the offenders. The Uddhav faction’s silence—or worse, tacit approval—of—such behaviour must be called out. The courts, police, and civil society must unite in ensuring this doesn’t spiral into another round of regional hate campaigns. India is a land of languages. The strength of Mumbai lies in its ability to house Gujaratis, Tamils, Marathis, Biharis, Telugus, Malayalis, and Bengalis under one skyline. Undermining this unity for narrow political ends is not just foolish—it is dangerous. It’s time we remind every leader—regional or national—that patriotism doesn’t mean yelling in your own language. It means respecting someone else’s.
