India’s Language Question

India's language controversy

India’s linguistic landscape is as complex and varied as its geography. With over a thousand spoken languages and hundreds of dialects distributed across the length and breadth of the country, India stands as one of the most multilingual nations in the world. This multilingualism is not merely a cultural fact but has deeply influenced Indian political life, social structure, educational frameworks, and administrative mechanisms. The recent withdrawal of Maharashtra’s proposed three-language policy by the state government provides a timely moment to revisit the larger language question in India—both in terms of historical evolution and policy intervention.

The issue of language in India goes far beyond mere communication; it lies at the heart of identity, regional pride, and the very idea of nationhood. The story of how India attempted to manage its linguistic diversity—beginning from the post-colonial language planning era to today’s contentious debates over regional versus national languages—is complex, marked by compromise, resistance, and unresolved tensions.

India’s languages belong mainly to four major language families: Indo-Aryan, Dravidian, Tibeto-Burman, and Austro-Asiatic. The Indo-Aryan family dominates northern and central India, while the Dravidian languages, such as Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, and Malayalam, are primarily spoken in the south. The Tibeto-Burman languages are prevalent in the northeastern hill regions, and the Austro-Asiatic family exists in smaller pockets, particularly in Jharkhand, Odisha, and Chhattisgarh.

The Indian linguistic tradition is ancient. Sanskrit, the classical language of ancient India, significantly shaped many modern Indian languages. Despite its long dormancy as a spoken vernacular, Sanskrit continues to wield cultural and religious influence. The Dravidian languages, meanwhile, possess independent literary traditions that rival the richness of the Indo-Aryan corpus.

Centuries of interaction among communities created a complex web of linguistic borrowing, convergence, and mutual influence. Retroflex sounds, for instance, common in modern Indo-Aryan languages, are attributed to the influence of Dravidian phonetics. The long history of invasions and trade also introduced foreign languages, such as Persian during the Mughal period and later English under British colonialism, both of which have left a lasting impact.

With independence in 1947, the leadership of newly sovereign India faced the formidable task of unifying a nation fragmented not only by caste, religion, and class but also by language. The Constituent Assembly debates reflected this dilemma. While Hindi was supported by many for its numerical strength and supposed cultural centrality, others advocated English as a neutral link language.

Mahatma Gandhi had proposed Hindustani (a blend of Hindi and Urdu) as a compromise national language. However, post-Partition politics and the marginalization of Urdu speakers made this vision untenable. The Constitution of India, adopted in 1950, designated Hindi in the Devanagari script as the official language of the Union, with English to continue as an associate official language for a transitional period of 15 years.

Article 343(1) of the Constitution provided that “the official language of the Union shall be Hindi in Devanagari script,” while Article 343(2) allowed for the continued use of English for official purposes for fifteen years, i.e., until 1965. This provision, however, was met with considerable apprehension and opposition, particularly from non-Hindi speaking states, especially in the south.

Timeline of Language related issues

The anticipated shift from English to Hindi in 1965 provoked intense backlash in many parts of the country. The most dramatic reaction came from Tamil Nadu, where protests led by the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) culminated in mass agitation, civil unrest, and over 60 reported deaths. These events forced the Union government to retract its plans. Eventually, the Official Languages Act, 1963 was amended to allow the indefinite use of English alongside Hindi for official purposes.

This resistance underscored a critical fact: language cannot be imposed in a federal structure without the consent of constituent units. It also reinforced English’s position as a functional, neutral lingua franca for administration and inter-state communication.

In an effort to address both national unity and regional sensitivities, the Indian government introduced the Three-Language Formula in education policy. Initially proposed in the 1968 National Policy on Education and reaffirmed in subsequent policies, it was designed to ensure that schoolchildren learned:

  • The regional language/mother tongue
  • Hindi (for non-Hindi states) or another Indian language (for Hindi states)
  • English or another modern international language

This policy sought to balance national integration with linguistic diversity. However, its implementation has been highly uneven. Southern states, such as Tamil Nadu, have rejected compulsory Hindi. Hindi-speaking states have rarely enforced the requirement to learn a southern language. Thus, the burden of multilingualism has often been asymmetrically imposed on non-Hindi speakers.

Though initially seen as a “symbol of slavery,” English today functions as a pan-Indian language of aspiration and upward mobility. It is the language of higher education, science, technology, law, and global business. It also acts as a neutral platform amidst linguistic tensions between Indian languages. Ironically, the postcolonial rejection of English never truly materialized, and instead, English has entrenched itself more deeply over time.

This entrenchment has not come without criticism. English remains associated with class privilege and urban elite culture, thereby creating linguistic stratification in Indian society. Yet, its utility and pan-Indian character continue to reinforce its indispensability in India’s multilingual polity.

The opposition to Hindi is not solely cultural; it is also economic and administrative. South Indian students and job-seekers have long argued that the dominance of Hindi in government recruitment gives unfair advantage to Hindi speakers. The demand for English and regional languages in civil services, public sector exams, and higher education is linked to this perceived asymmetry.

Furthermore, the use of Hindi in central government communication, army commands, and All India services continues to draw criticism from linguistic minorities, who view such practices as exclusionary.

The recent attempt by the Maharashtra government to implement a three-language policy in primary schools sparked widespread protests, culminating in its withdrawal in June 2025. Opposition parties and civil society groups saw the policy as a veiled effort to promote Hindi at the expense of Marathi identity. Though the government announced the formation of a committee to review the policy, the symbolic resonance of the controversy speaks to the continued salience of language as a faultline in Indian politics.

The episode in Maharashtra is not an anomaly—it mirrors the larger historical struggle of India’s attempt to balance national cohesion with linguistic federalism, and identity with utility.

The linguistic landscape of India has long stood as both a pillar of civilisational plurality and a site of political contestation. At the time of independence, India’s leadership was faced with the monumental task of governing a multilingual population with over a thousand spoken languages and dozens of officially recognised tongues. The subsequent debates—about the primacy of Hindi, the utility of English, and the role of regional languages—were not merely administrative dilemmas but emblematic of the larger challenge of nation-building in a post-colonial, polyethnic democracy.

The language issue, once at the forefront of political mobilisation, particularly in the southern states, has in recent decades seen a marked decline in overt visibility. This relative dormancy, however, should not be mistaken for resolution. Historical events such as the wars with Pakistan in 1965 and 1971, along with the explosion of socio-economic concerns in the 1970s, especially population growth and poverty alleviation, served to push linguistic debates to the background.

Yet, the decline in political mobilisation around language has not eliminated its salience in Indian public life. Incidents from Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, and Karnataka reflect the ongoing lived tensions among linguistic communities. The anecdotal experiences of individuals being met with hostility when using Hindi or English in non-native states underscore the extent to which language continues to function as a marker of identity and a potential site of conflict.

A telling indicator of this shift is the trajectory of the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK), a party which initially ascended to political prominence on the back of its anti-Hindi agitation. While it remains an important actor in Tamil Nadu politics, it has largely moved away from using the language question as a sole mobilising plank. This change suggests a form of strategic recalibration rather than a relinquishment of linguistic concerns. The DMK’s articulation of Tamil as “the natural expression of Tamil nationalism” and its demand for parity with Hindi and English point towards an ongoing assertion of linguistic identity—albeit within the existing constitutional framework.

Beyond political theatres, the language question remains embedded in everyday experiences. Linguistic conflicts often surface in interpersonal interactions, especially when individuals travel or migrate across state boundaries. Attempts to communicate in Hindi in non-Hindi speaking regions—most prominently Tamil Nadu—can still provoke resentment. This linguistic friction is not one-sided. Similar discomfort and resistance exist in the north against southern languages, illustrating a national pattern of regional linguistic protectionism.

These micro-level conflicts serve as indicators of a deeper structural issue: the absence of a universally accepted common language that transcends regional boundaries while respecting local linguistic identities. While Hindi speakers might view their language as a natural national medium due to demographic dominance, speakers of other languages often perceive this as cultural and political hegemony.

Much of the confusion in India’s language policy arises from the ambiguity between the terms “national language” and “official language”. Constitutionally, Hindi is designated as the official language of the Union. However, political rhetoric and popular discourse often refer to Hindi as the national language—a conflation that has far-reaching implications.

A national language functions as a symbolic representation of cultural and political unity. An official language, by contrast, is a functional choice, designated for governance and administrative communication. India’s leaders at the time of independence often failed to demarcate these two categories clearly. Consequently, Hindi was advanced in a manner that sought to combine both symbolic and functional authority, despite its limited acceptability outside the Hindi heartland.

The decision in the 1960s to replace English with Hindi as the sole official language met with stiff resistance, particularly from southern states. The protests, initially spearheaded by political actors, quickly found mass resonance. It would be misleading, however, to attribute this backlash solely to political manipulation. Educated youth and professionals were equally concerned about the implications of Hindi imposition, particularly in public sector employment, where Hindi proficiency was increasingly privileged.

Organizations such as the Hindi Sahitya Sammelan and Nagari Pracharani Sabha, while ideologically motivated by a desire to erase colonial legacies and forge national unity, underestimated the emotional and cultural investment Indians had in their mother tongues. The aggressive promotion of Hindi by these groups led to the perception of linguistic dominance rather than unity.

Prime Minister Nehru himself recognised this miscalculation, attributing the stagnation of Hindi’s national acceptance to the “overenthusiasm” of its proponents. The attempt to enforce rather than encourage linguistic transition marked a turning point, effectively halting the organic spread of Hindi and precipitating defensive regionalism.

Another factor that complicated the emergence of a national language was the linguistic reorganisation of states in 1956. While administratively rational, this measure entrenched linguistic identities at the state level and discouraged cross-linguistic interaction. Had states been demarcated along non-linguistic lines, it is arguable that a more pan-Indian linguistic sensibility might have emerged over time. Instead, the reorganisation reinforced the idea of language as a primary marker of identity and political belonging.

One of the more intriguing propositions in language policy discourse has been the suggestion to adopt Sanskrit as the national language. As a classical language with pan-Indian reverence but minimal contemporary usage, Sanskrit could have served as a neutral, symbolic unifier—an “imposition on all,” and hence acceptable. Yet, its lack of utility and inaccessibility for daily communication meant that it could never function as an effective lingua franca. Thus, the idea, while intellectually appealing, was ultimately impractical.

The attempt to forge linguistic unity through monolingualism reflects a Western ideological model, ill-suited to the Indian context. Scholars such as Udaya Narayana Singh and Francis Coulmas have critiqued this approach, arguing that multilingualism need not be viewed as a developmental hindrance. On the contrary, pluralism, if well-managed, can be a source of creativity, cultural richness, and democratic negotiation.

In the Indian context, this means accepting that linguistic plurality is not a transitional phase to be overcome but a stable and enduring feature of national life. Language policy, therefore, must move away from the search for a singular national tongue and instead embrace mechanisms that facilitate multilingual coexistence.

Perhaps the most significant contemporary development in India’s linguistic terrain is the silent emergence of functional lingua francas driven by economic necessity rather than state policy. In industrial hubs, urban workplaces, and inter-state commercial centres, hybrid languages—rooted in Hindi but infused with English and local dialects—have begun to emerge organically. These idioms, unbound by purist constraints, serve as pragmatic tools of communication across linguistic divides.

This phenomenon underscores an important principle: language acquisition in India is increasingly governed by utility rather than identity. When individuals find themselves in a setting that necessitates a new language, they often acquire it with surprising ease. In this regard, the economy may be succeeding where the state has failed: fostering linguistic accommodation not through mandates, but through incentives.

India’s language question is not merely a policy dilemma but a civilisational challenge rooted in identity, equity, and federalism. The historical attempts to impose linguistic uniformity have repeatedly clashed with the lived realities of a profoundly plural society. While the prominence of language-based mobilisation may have declined, the tensions remain embedded in education, employment, governance, and everyday life. A durable resolution lies not in enforcing a singular linguistic hierarchy, but in embracing multilingualism as a structural and cultural norm. Moving forward, India must adopt a pragmatic, decentralised, and inclusive approach that respects regional identities, ensures equitable access, and fosters national cohesion through voluntary accommodation rather than coercive integration.

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