Is FairPoint Just About 'Patak Patak-Dubo Dubo Ke Maarenge'?

New Delhi, July 20 (NationPress) Picture yourself strolling through the streets of Mumbai, Bengaluru, or Chennai, when suddenly a stranger confronts you, insisting you communicate in Marathi, Tamil, Bengali, or Kannada -- languages that may be foreign to you.

Upon failing to comply, you find yourself subjected to physical assault, verbal abuse, and public humiliation. To make matters worse, the entire ordeal is captured on a smartphone, and within moments, the footage spreads like wildfire across social media, transforming your suffering into viral entertainment or a political tool.

This may seem like a scene from a dystopian novel, but such occurrences are becoming alarmingly common in cities like Mumbai and states like Karnataka. Language, a basic means of communication, is rapidly evolving into a dangerous political weapon -- a catalyst for outrage, violence, and societal division.

The issue of language pride is not merely a matter of emotion but a deeply sensitive topic across various regions of India. Political leaders such as M.K. Stalin in Tamil Nadu, Siddaramaiah in Karnataka, Mamata Banerjee in West Bengal, and the Thackeray cousins in Maharashtra understand its significant implications.

For these politicians, language transcends culture or identity; it serves as a potent political tool capable of igniting public sentiment, consolidating regional voter blocs, and even polarizing communities.

India's intricate history of language politics has seen everything from the anti-Hindi protests in Tamil Nadu during the 1960s to ongoing confrontations against perceived language imposition. Linguistic identity has been at the forefront of regional political mobilization, with the emotional appeal of 'mother tongue pride' consistently acting as a compelling rallying cry.

The recent events in Mumbai illustrate this point. With the once-dominant Thackeray cousins -- Uddhav and Raj -- facing dwindling relevance in Maharashtra's political arena, the revival of language pride appears to be their last resort. Their public reconciliation seems aimed at reclaiming political influence by presenting themselves as guardians of Marathi identity.

However, the citizens of Maharashtra are not easily fooled. They recognize that this newfound unity reflects desperation rather than a shared vision.

The Thackerays have witnessed a significant decline in their political clout. Uddhav Thackeray, who briefly held the Chief Minister position, was often seen more as a compromise than a charismatic leader. The results of the 2024 Assembly elections further confirmed this diminishing support.

As the pivotal Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) elections approach -- a contest for a civic body operating with an astonishing budget of Rs 70,000 crore -- the stakes have never been higher.

The Thackerays have dominated the BMC for nearly 30 years, with only a brief hiatus from 1992 to 1996. Maintaining control over this vast urban entity is essential for their political survival.

Yet, they face stiff competition: the BJP, in coalition with Eknath Shinde's breakaway Shiv Sena and Ajit Pawar's NCP faction, is aggressively targeting the BMC. Following a humiliating defeat in the Assembly polls, Uddhav Thackeray cannot afford another loss. In this climate, appealing to Marathi pride and positioning themselves as the city's identity's last bastion becomes a convenient narrative.

For the Thackerays, it is purely a matter of political optics, just as the language issue serves as a critical tool for regional leaders like DMK's M.K. Stalin or Trinamool Congress chief Mamata Banerjee.

In Tamil Nadu, Chief Minister Stalin has escalated the language debate, actively opposing the perceived imposition of Hindi through the National Education Policy's three-language framework.

His party, the DMK, has a long-standing history of resisting Hindi dominance, and Stalin is upholding this tradition. He has even popularized the hashtag 'StopHindiImposition', transforming language resistance into a cultural movement that transcends party affiliations.

Stalin's support for the Thackeray cousins' position against Hindi imposition is not merely symbolic; it signifies a broader regional alliance among leaders uniting against the BJP and NDA at the national level. To them, language is not just a marker of cultural identity; it symbolizes political autonomy and a stance against homogenization.

Mamata Banerjee in West Bengal has adopted a similar strategy. She is leading a campaign against the alleged harassment of Bengali speakers in BJP-governed states. She even organized a march in rain-soaked Kolkata to advocate for her so-called 'cause.'

In her own words: 'What does the BJP think?... They will hurt Bengalis?... They are calling them Rohingya. Rohingya are in Myanmar, not here. 22 lakh poor migrant workers are being targeted. I appeal to them to return home. They will be safe here. The BJP is sending Bengali speakers to detention camps. Is West Bengal not in India?'

Such statements are aimed at eliciting mass emotions, and she has been effective in doing so. With the Bengal Assembly elections approaching next year, the issue of language pride could become a highly sensitive and decisive factor.

Whether it's Stalin, Mamata Banerjee, the Thackeray brothers, or other politicians, they all recognize that language can mobilize the masses, foster emotional connections, and serve as a powerful shield during political turmoil.

However, the peril lies in crossing the boundary between pride and prejudice. When language is weaponized to incite violence, intimidate outsiders, or suppress dissent, it transforms from a cultural asset into a social liability.

Consider 48-year-old Babulal Choudhary, a restaurant owner in Mira Road, who was assaulted by MNS workers for speaking in Hindi on July 1; he will only express his fear. Or think of anyone who faces violence for not knowing the local language, or those humiliated for not speaking the dialect correctly. Such experiences can be traumatic, but for politicians, it’s merely about manipulating public sentiment for power.

India thrives on its pluralism -- its capacity to embrace various languages, religions, and cultures within a singular democratic framework. To exploit this diversity for short-term political advantage jeopardizes the very foundation of Indian unity.

It is imperative for political leaders to recognize that language should serve as a bridge, not a battleground.

It should never devolve into 'Tumko patak patak ke maarenge' (you will be thrashed badly, again and again) or 'Mumbai ke samundar mein dubo dubo ke maarenge' (We will thrash them by drowning them repeatedly in the Mumbai sea).

(Deepika Bhan can be contacted at deepika.b@ians.in)