MS Shanker
A former high-ranking bureaucrat recently asked me to write an article on what language could unite India—given, as he put it, the “widespread regional opposition” to Hindi. Frankly, I was puzzled. Opposition from whom, exactly? Beyond the entrenched, ideologically rigid Dravidian parties of Tamil Nadu, who else is actively resisting Hindi as a second or third language? Certainly not the people of the South at large. And if Hindi is offered as an option—after the state’s primary language—how on earth can that be called “imposition”?
Visit Hyderabad and you’ll hear Hindi-Urdu spoken comfortably alongside Telugu and English. Travel through Karnataka, and you’ll find Hindi understood by a majority—even if the current Congress government toes a politically expedient line against it. Even in Kerala, where Malayalam reigns supreme, Hindi is widely understood, and Malayalis routinely excel in Hindi singing competitions like Indian Idol. The opposition to Hindi isn’t linguistic—it’s political posturing by a vocal minority.
This brings us to a broader question: if not Hindi, then what?
India is a land of linguistic abundance. According to the latest census, the country recognizes 22 official languages and over 19,500 dialects. But among these, only a few can claim pan-Indian resonance. Based on native speakers, here are India’s top 10 languages:
- Hindi – Spoken by over 528 million Indians, Hindi is the most widely spoken language in the country. It is the official language of the Union government and the lingua franca in northern and central states like Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, Madhya Pradesh, and Rajasthan.
- Bengali – With 97 million speakers, Bengali dominates in West Bengal and parts of the Northeast. Its literary legacy is unparalleled, thanks to figures like Rabindranath Tagore.
- Marathi – Spoken by 83 million, it is the language of Maharashtra, a powerhouse state in economy and culture.
- Telugu – With 81 million speakers across Andhra Pradesh and Telangana, Telugu is known for its classical poetry and modern cinema.
- Tamil – With 69 million native speakers, Tamil’s pride stems from its ancient origins and global presence in Sri Lanka, Singapore, and the Tamil diaspora.
- Gujarati – Spoken by 55 million, Gujarati is deeply connected to trade, enterprise, and the diaspora, especially in the US and UK.
- Urdu – With over 50 million speakers, Urdu flourishes in Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, Telangana, and West Bengal. It is cherished for its poetry and cultural elegance.
- Kannada – Native to over 43 million, Kannada boasts a rich literary tradition and a strong presence in Karnataka’s cultural identity.
- Odia – Spoken by 37 million, Odia is a classical language with deep roots in the cultural life of Odisha.
- Malayalam – With 34 million speakers, Malayalam shines in literature and cinema, particularly within Kerala and the diaspora.
Now, let’s ask again: Which of these languages—besides Hindi—can seamlessly connect India across state lines, cultures, and regions?
While all Indian languages have their place and pride, none comes close to Hindi in terms of widespread comprehension, use, and potential for national integration. Hindi films, music, and media have long crossed regional barriers. It’s the default language in most Indian railway stations, airports, and government interfaces. English too plays a bridging role, but its reach is largely limited to urban, educated circles.
Critics often cite the imposition of Hindi in southern states as a colonial-style cultural dominance. But let’s not conflate voluntary learning and practical utility with forced assimilation. The New Education Policy (NEP) 2020, after extensive consultation with all states, proposes a flexible three-language formula—not mandatory Hindi. In fact, it gives states full freedom to decide which languages their children learn. Yet, Tamil Nadu’s Dravidian parties oppose even that, as if Hindi were a virus rather than a vehicle of national cohesion.
Let us not forget: the DMK once supported the idea of Dravidian secession. In the 1950s and ’60s, they demanded a separate “Dravida Nadu,” even resisting Indian national symbols. Their opposition to Hindi isn’t new—it’s a continuation of a politics rooted in anti-national narratives and identity insecurities. It has less to do with language and more to do with maintaining an outdated ideological relevance.
Ironically, Tamil is a classical language with global stature. Its richness need not be diminished by learning Hindi, just as knowing English doesn’t reduce one’s love for one’s mother tongue. Multilingualism is India’s strength—not a zero-sum game.
In a country as diverse as ours, finding common ground is vital. Hindi, with its wide reach and cultural ubiquity, offers that common ground—not as a replacement, but as a connector. To oppose it for political brownie points is to weaken the very idea of India.
Let’s not allow petty politics to dictate national unity. Language should unite, not divide. And in the mosaic of India’s linguistic landscape, Hindi remains our best bet for a truly connected nation.
