If Kannada is the tongue of locals, speak on

Immigrants make up almost half of Bengaluru. Bridging the linguistic divide will require work on both sides, with the onus slightly more on those coming in
Image used for illustrative purposes only. (Express illustration | Soumyadip Sinha)
Image used for illustrative purposes only. (Express illustration | Soumyadip Sinha)

It’s time to debate again in Karnataka. This time around, once again it is language versus language. It’s not Hindi versus Kannada this time. Instead, it’s English versus Kannada. The face-off is in the demand of the Karnataka Rakshana Vedike (KRV) to implement a recent notification that mandates 60 per cent of signboards of all commercial establishments to be in Kannada by the end of February 2024.

While the last date of implementation is still some two months away, the KRV decided to get the eyeballs rolling on the matter. It wanted everyone’s attention on this subject pronto. A group of activists took it upon themselves to take out a procession which turned violent with outlet signage being stoned, marquee brand boards being blackened and ‘English only’ boards being brought down with sticks and stones. The streets were littered with overturned sundry decorative pots. The violence lasted a few hours before the police stepped in to quell the rancour of the moment. This leg of the eyeball-grabbing action was restricted by and large to malls and high-street outlets.

Television channels grabbed the moment, social media went into a tizzy of indignant posts as usual and Brand Bengaluru was battered in the media. The action and visuals that followed were certainly bad for the image of an otherwise tolerant and peaceful city. A city that buzzes with businesses of both the corporate and retail kind.

In sheer terms of city output, the corporate sector of Bengaluru is a buzzing one. The city hosts employees and settlers (of both short-term and long-term inclinations) that come from literally every state in India and 43 other nations to date. Recent population numbers seem to indicate that Bengaluru is a 51:49 city when it comes to its ratio of locals versus those who come from outside to settle and make a living.

The city is an eclectic mix of people from inside the state of Karnataka and outside. Language therefore comes to the fore of debate. The city is divided between those who speak Kannada and those who don’t. The moment you speak the local tongue, you are included, and the moment you say “Kannada gothilla”(I don’t know how to speak in Kannada), you get excluded. The city is divided into two for now. Language is a divider.

Bengaluru however is not a jingoistic city at all. It has never been one. The Kannadiga is an all-inclusive persona. The Kannadigas welcome all, embracing every new food item is to partake, they speak in possibly three other languages, participate in literally every festival there is to celebrate and know no jingoism. I call Bengaluru a “Bisi-bele-baath city”. And Bisi-bele-baath is our very own version of a khichdi. It takes in a lot more variants of masalas, and is by far tastier. And that’s a personal jingoistic take. The city is an eclectic mix of people from all over. People who essentially live in peace more days of the year than possibly anyone else.

Then why this fracas over English versus Kannada? There is a reason. The city is getting more sensitive by the night. As the ratio of people and language speakers changes, there is a latent irritation among those who appreciate Kannada and those who don’t. The first time one is confronted by this is when a Kannada-speaking auto-rickshaw driver is told that he must learn Hindi or English by a non-Kannada-speaking person. Ouch. And this rankles.

Pride for the local language deepens, and rightly so. When pushed into a corner, you fight back. People start seeing those who live in the city with an us-versus-them lens. And that, I do believe, is the beginning of a divide. A divide by language. The onus to create less of this lies with those who don’t speak the language, rather than with those that do. What I say here is possibly true in the case of every city that has a different spoken and written language in India.

Net of it, Bengaluru is a sensitive city today. While the current fracas on Kannada-centric billboards will settle down and you will see 60 per cent of Kannada on name-boards of restaurants, retail outlets, hotels, malls and offices, the issue of language and language use and appreciation needs to be handled better. Corporate bodies and every commercial establishment that front-faces consumers need to get more sensitive to language and its many dimensions of comfort and discomfort. Language–sensitisation is a must in every establishment. This sensitisation needs to be taken to heart and practised by those who interact with people who may not know any other language except the local, or for that matter may not want to use any other but their own.

The key idea lies in a simple diktat. Give respect and get respect. If you respect the local language and become a part of it, you are respected more. The Kannadiga will love you more and more as you speak more and more of his, or their tongue. I do believe adopting the local language is a business-enhancing tool all its own. The more you use the local language, the more you will benefit as a corporation, a restaurant or a retailer on the street.

The onus of erasing the ‘us’ versus ‘them’ mindset lies more on the ‘outsider’ rather than on the ‘insider’. And this point is applicable to every city in modern India. Let’s sit up and smell the coffee. There are movements in every state that want more localisation and for that language is the starting point. Over the years, this will move on to other things as well, but no point in fretting about that now. For the moment, learning my language to become a part of me. Learn my language to get closer to me. The simplest tool to become the ‘us’ is language. The easiest tool to stay in the ranks of the ‘them’ is to resist the local language.

I feel very happy to enter my favourite Karaikudi restaurant in Chennai to be able to meet Akso from Mizoram who is my usual waiter and speak with him in Tamil, even though my Tamil is broken. I feel comfortable. I hate to order in English.  I am sensitive enough not to order in Kannada. Or in Hindi. The more we do this, the less we will have divisive moments of any kind affecting the peace of our many cities.

For the moment however, in parting, let me make a prediction of good income.  Good prosperity. Sign-board makers are going to see a booming business in the first two months of 2024 in Bengaluru. Touché!

Harish Bijoor, Brand Guru and Founder, Harish Bijoor Consults Inc

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