There is a funny line in the BBC comedy series, To the Manor Born, when a feudal aristocrat fallen on difficult days sells her country mansion to a Czech-born tycoon. Speaking of the responsibility that comes with the English heritage, she says: “Noblesse oblige. I bet you have not heard of that—it’s English.”
Getting your French mixed up with English is understandable for Britons—the French-speaking Normans after all ruled the Anglo-Saxons for more than 150 years. But the English language has been enriched by so many foreign influences that you can have a conversation in pukka English peppered with words borrowed from Hindi, Malayalam or Tamil. There are whole lexicons dedicated to Indian English terms—from Hobson Jobson published in 1886 to Hanklyn-Janklin of 1992.
These things come to mind a week after the news that the lone Kannada-medium student in a Mysuru engineering college has dropped out because he was the only one in his class and there was a shortage of course material. His family and friends advised him to switch to an English-medium course.
The English have gained a lot from India. It’s said ‘loot’ was one of the earliest terms the Company-era Brits borrowed from India because that’s what they were busy with. But if we are honest enough to separate colonial tyranny from the coincidental benefits of the Industrial Revolution and modern science, English makes a lot of sense.
Amid murmurs of protest from southern governments, Hindi is sneaking more and more into the lexicon of the Union government, which is set on increasing the Hindi-to-English ratio in lawmaking. The Indian Penal Code has been revised and renamed Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita; the Bharatiya Vayuyan Vidheyak aims to replace the Aircraft Act. We are told these are about replacing colonial era laws.
Even while minding the political symbolism of linguistic identity, we can say the English language remains a global currency—or, to mix metaphors and tongues, the lingua franca of national integration. The term ‘lingua franca’ itself is Italian in origin and refers to the Frankish language, which was once a common tongue among people from different regions.
Southern leaders can gladly protest against “Hindi imposition”, but none is likely to oppose English. Because it’s the language of global business, the lingua franca for science, technology, global travel and, therefore, lucrative careers—as our IT and business service industries have proven.
Yet, there are those who fashionably blame Thomas Babington Macaulay for introducing English as the main medium of instruction in India in the 1830s replacing Sanskrit and Arabic. He could be derided for foolishly proclaiming “a single shelf of a good European library was worth the whole native literature of India and Arabia” and for his desire of producing Indians who were “English in tastes, in opinions, in morals and in intellect”. But we also need to admit that, because of the shared colonial history, English is today the language of opportunity.
Once upon a time, Urdu—Dakhni in the South—was a lingua franca to interact with aliens spouting Persian, Arabic and Turkish who were swirling around during Mughal rule. English could be seen as the new Urdu.
Recently, while marking the Indian language week starting December 4 as Bharatiya Bhasha Utsav, the Union education minister argued that the mother tongue lies at the core of deep learning to preserve folklore, tradition and collective wisdom. He advocated basic education for children in their mother tongues.
As someone who started education in Tamil medium, I agree. But equally, as someone who did much of his higher education in English and spoke Hindi in the neighbourhood, I have to emphasise the value of English. Southerners are happy to imbibe Hindi while enjoying Bollywood movies as well as travelling across India, but forcing it on them may not make sense as they may feel a loss of culture. Yet, for many young Tamilians, the American-English “bro” has quietly replaced the age-old “machaan”.
India’s official education policy laid out in 2020 emphasises a three-language formula with an emphasis on two Indian languages. Southern radicals worry this is a soft imposition of Hindi.
Even those speaking proud old languages with technical equivalents and texts in their mother tongues cannot escape English. On a visit to Stanford University a decade ago, I noticed a lot of Chinese students who had worked extra hard on their English. In Japan, English is a language of upward social mobility even though it was never ruled by English speakers.
Meanwhile, Uttar Pradesh and Rajasthan have been quietly boosting the use of English in their state schools. Justifying the plans, the UP education minister said a few years ago: “Parents are queuing up for English medium schools.”
Two Irrfan Khan starrers—Hindi Medium (2017) and its sequel Angrezi Medium (2020)—capture well the limitations of India’s most spoken language and the world’s most common language of power and privilege.
Any attempt to reverse-swing a language citing its colonial baggage is for good political rhetoric, but the final call is taken by everyday utility. Languages are like rivers. They become purer when they flow, and dearer when they help us translate the world’s most easily understood language: money.
(Views are personal)
Madhavan Narayanan
Senior journalist (On X @madversity)