This flash essay is part of a collaborative, constrained-writing challenge undertaken by some members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group. This month, each of us examined the concept of ‘LANGUAGE’. At the bottom of this snippet, you’ll find links to other essays by fellow writers.
English and the Death of Kannada
I studied in an ICSE school for my entire schooling. And yes, I read Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice, we learnt its dialogues, we understood everything about Daffodils by William Wordsworth. It felt real reading Maya Angelou’s Why the Caged Bird Sings. It felt like reading my heart out when I read Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken.
English always felt like the language that was the mark of necessity for being "learned." It was the ticket to places where power could be held.
And here is my regret about why I feel that it must not have been that way.
Let me say it for the 1000th time, in the era where my fellow Kannadigas are fighting against the so-called "Hindi imposition":
Hindi never killed my love and articulation in Kannada as much as English did.
It suffocated my mother tongue and killed it when Kannada was deep asleep in my childhood conscience. By being told it was inferior to the foreign man’s tongue. It was smothered in its last bits when we were told to study language just for marks, not to understand its glorious past, history, and meaning beyond being a medium of communication.
It was poisoned slowly when children were shamed for speaking their own mother tongues in school. Teachers merely followed this because that was what was required of them. They were part of a system that was structured in such a way. It incentivized those who knew English. And they only wanted the best for us.
Even today, the Left and the so-called intellectual circles in India still think English is a mark of literacy and erudition, not merely a language. Knowing it is treated as the only way we could judge a person’s worth. This is reflected in the fact that our Honorable Prime Minister is still shamed for speaking in Hindi, while every other president or prime minister speaks in the language of their countrymen.
Language, Migration and Misguided Activism
While I understand that as locals, we want migrants and people who come to Karnataka for better opportunities to learn Kannada, I am sad and shattered about what is happening with them in Namma Bengaluru.
To the so-called language warriors who flood the streets and harass commoners who don’t speak Kannada, I ask: how will Kannada be saved by forcing people to speak it? I can simply deduce that local people will have easier lives, but that is exactly what everyone does with time. I have stayed in Chennai for the last two years for my graduation. My love for Kannada has not decreased because I am amidst people who speak Tamil. In fact, I have learnt enough Tamil to handle basic conversations by myself. So this leads nowhere. In fact, the love people have for you increases when you speak their mother tongue. It’s an instant pass to a deeper connection.
I come from Chitradurga district, and I can proudly say that there are people who speak all languages in my village. There is even a separate colony called 'Velamurugan Colony' where laborers and skilled workers from Tamil Nadu, who came to build the Vani Vilasa Sagara Dam, have settled. Because it borders Andhra Pradesh and Telangana, there are many Telugu speakers as well. I can promise you there has not been a single skirmish between speakers of different languages all these years. So I do not understand why Bengaluru has to face this issue when the rest of Karnataka has been so welcoming.
I understand the concern that Bengaluru may not have a significant Kannada-speaking population, and that’s a valid concern. But this is not about politics. If you look at the 2001 and 2011 census, the percentage of Kannada speakers has not drastically declined. It has always been the case with cosmopolitan towns everywhere. It is our responsibility to teach people Kannada through other ways: making Kannada a compulsory language in schools, conducting outreach programs to teach Kannada.
It breaks my heart to see modern children losing their Kannada vocabulary to English. Kannada is a profoundly sophisticated and beautiful language, rich with heritage, yet it’s slowly fading. I remember watching Thatt Antha Heli growing up, hosted by Na Someshwara, who once shared a painful truth: Kannada is dying because our parents no longer use many words our grandparents cherished. The same is true for us today, as we drift further from our linguistic roots. Modernization is running over our language, and there is not enough work being done to add new words to keep up with modern India.
Cultural Grief and Personal Loss
If there are people with the superiority complex of "why should I learn Kannada?" they are borderline rage-baiters and stupid people who do not deserve to be engaged with. Your outrage at them should not spill over to harmless commoners.
To those calling themselves language warriors, I expect you to have read at least 10 books in Kannada. If you have time to shout, harass, and bully people, you should have proven your love for the language by supporting writers or libraries that actually save the language.
Hindi readers, Tamil readers, and others only pushed me to read and love Kannada more. Being part of book clubs and seeing people read Hindi and Bengali literature made me want to read Kannada literature. I am sure many language warriors today are simply performative goons who wouldn’t even know Banu Mushtaq won the Booker Prize. While not everyone knows everything, these acts do not save the language.
Its my honor to say that Banu Mushtaq hails from my city I have lived in from more than a decade. I had seen her in several events and she is a lawyer by profession and has actively spoken and fought for the rights of women and the voiceless. There is immense pride in the fact that the translator Deepa Bhasti and Banu Mushtaq have been able to put Kannada Literature on the world map. And for the people who did not know, Kannada has the second highest Jnanpith Awards in India after Hindi!
Despite so much "activism," Kannada literature is undeniably dying a slow death. Not because there aren’t enough writers, but because there aren’t enough young readers. How many of our parents read for leisure? Before calling reading elitist, reflect on why it became that way. Let’s fix the problem, not label it.
The damage is immense.
It hurts like a dagger to realize I can hardly express my feelings and thoughts in Kannada. I can read and write well, but that’s different. Nothing brings me more joy than reading Kuvempu, SL Bhyrappa, Ta Ra Su, P Lankesh, Poornachandra Tejaswi, Vasudhendra, K N Ganeshaiah and more writers!. As someone who grew up in the eternal Malenadu and the fort town of Durga, it gives me joy to witness their art.
The one feeling I have when speaking or thinking in Kannada in intellectual spaces is shame. It's funny and heartbreaking because every time I was hurt, cried, defended myself, or fell in love, it was English that came out. I saw a reel that said:
"Can anyone say 'I love you' in their first language? Is that real?"
It feels insincere in English, but in my native language, it feels like the earth has been pulled from under my feet.
Don’t most of us who speak English as our second language feel this?
The system, society, and I made this happen. We are busy making migrants speak Kannada. Let's make kids proud of Kannada, help them realize its richness: "Kannada Kastoori," "Sirigannadam Gelge." The hooligans will never understand this.
Real Solutions and Hope
It's disheartening to see people fight language wars in India. Kuvempu would not have wanted to see this in the state he called "Sarva Janangada Shantiya Thota." Nor did he write "Bharata Jananiya Tanujaate" without reason.
Language is a part of our traditions and culture. From Kavirajamarga to the Kadamba Dynasty to the Wodeyars, Kannada has a rich history. As someone who grew up in Chitradurga reading and listening the stories of the valiant Nayakas of Chitradurga, as someone who spent time reading and understanding the immense Hoysala architecture and contribution in the city I have stayed, Hassan, to reading and learning more of the Kadamba vamsha, to seeing the Halmidi Shasana, I have loved every bit of Kannada from the deepest corners of my heart.
I am not against language activism, in fact the very point of this post is to demand more of it to save and arrest the down slide of our very loving Kannada. But demand the right things and ask the right questions. If activism becomes chauvinism, you’re a foot soldier getting crushed, destabilizing the country. India is already divided by caste, religion, and finances. If you further an agenda funded by unknown actors with bad intentions, you are simply breaking India.
We cannot save language by flooding roads with hooligans. We need to invest in language, save universities, invest in literature and research. Fix the education system that demonizes mother tongues.
In Tamil Nadu, even bookstores in posh malls have Tamil sections. In Karnataka, Bargain Book Hut and airports don’t sell Kannada books. There is something to learn from our neighbors.
These are the real issues. But politics of division is more potent than dialogue among the uninformed.
Can we work to save Kannada? Can we stop Kannada departments from shutting down? Can we incentivize culture and language? Do we see hope at the end of the tunnel? Or will we leave chauvinism in the wake of saving culture?
We the youth have a task of saving what is ours. Can we do it?
Lets hope so!
Jai Karnataka Maate!
Signing off, Hope you put a smile on someone’s face!
Your very loving,
Aryan!
P.S: Do you feel hopeless, sad and disgruntled as well about the your mother tongue and your relation with it? What are your ways of reaching back to your mother tongue? Do leave a comment in the comments section!
I would love to have diverse opinions about this piece and hear any other side of this complex argument!
Go check out these insightful pieces from fellow writers!
Loss of a language By Rakhi Anil, Rakhi’s Substack
Beyond Words and Dialects by Aarti Krishnakumar, Aarti’s Substack
In search of my lost mother tongue by Siddhesh Raut, Shana, Ded Shana
The language question by Rahul Singh, Mehfil
Geography & Language by Devayani Khare, Geosophy
The Dance of Languages by Haridas Jayakumar, Harry
Poetic Silence - From Anand Bhavan to 3039 and back by Amit Charles, @acnotes
No Garam Aloo in Tamil Nadu by Ayush, Ayush's Substack
Lost in translation by Vikram, Vikram’s Substack
I’ve been thinking a lot about tongues, again. by Ameya, (Always) Ameya
The Language Beneath Words by Mihir Chate, Mihir's Substack
What does this mean? by Nidhishree Venugopal, General in her Labyrinth
The Language of Murder by Gowri N Kishore | About Murder, She Wrote.
I have no words by Richa Vadini Singh, Here’s What I Think
Jal-Elephants, Thread-Navels, and Other Sanskrit Beasts by Rajat Gururaj, I came, I saw, I Floundered
The Bengaluru Blend by Avinash Shenoy, Off the walls
An Ode to Languages, by Lavina G, The Nexus Terrain
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Yes, forcing someone to learn a language will only make them resist it, even if they were initially open to learning. Everyone should respect the culture of the place they are living in.
During my numerous cab, auto and bike rides, I made an effort to learn at least a word or a sentence in Kannada. The drivers always taught me politely and patiently. But this kind of hooliganism will definitely not work.
In my office, I have seen very few cultural programmes related to Kannada culture. I believe that the best way to encourage people to learn a language and appreciate its culture is through engaging and enjoyable initiatives. Like fun cultural programmes, fun activities and maybe they can advertise some of the basic and important kannada words in the buses/cabs/autos.
In my experience, Kannadigas have been remarkably patient with migrants. Growing up in a convent school in Bengaluru, most of my classmates were non-Kannadigas who openly sneered at Kannadigas, with little effort to assimilate into the local language or culture. What we are seeing today is an escalation of that attitude—newer migrants display not just indifference, but open disrespect and contempt.
As the only Kannadiga in my apartment, I was mockingly asked, “Which is your state flag? Is it the one with Puneeth Rajkumar on it?”—simply because I requested that Rajyotsava be celebrated. Until then, the apartment had displayed a token, flimsy flag at the gate, more performative than sincere.
This sustained pattern of attitude and behaviour is precisely why there is growing outrage against migrants. Dismissing so-called “language warriors” as misguided ignores the lived ground reality that has led to this resentment.