Bengaluru paradox: Language as a marker of identity in a city that embraced migrants
As migration reshapes the city, Kannada speakers grapple with cultural displacement and the influence of Hindi, sparking a fight to preserve linguistic identity
The Chennai Metro Rail Limited’s proposal to connect Karnataka’s Bommasandra with Tamil Nadu’s Hosur received widespread opposition from the Kannada groups last week, who argued that the move would lead to a fresh influx of migrants into Bengaluru, intensifying the city's existing infrastructural challenges. Last month, actor-director Prakash Belawadi took a jibe at non-Bengalureans for claiming to be a reason for the city’s development. And, just a few days ago, a Bengaluru resident took to social media to criticise food aggregator, Swiggy, for assigning a delivery partner who doesn’t speak Kannada or English.
While these are unrelated incidents, Bengalureans, according to widespread perception and anecdotal evidence, feel successive state governments have neglected Kannada.
In 2017, Bengaluru’s Namma Metro found itself at the centre of a language controversy when signages in Hindi were installed at metro stations along with Kannada and English versions. The three-language policy was not observed at metro stations in other cities such as Chennai, critics pointed out. Another point of contention was that for many years, banking exams in Karnataka, organised by the Institute of Banking Personnel Selection (IBPS), were conducted in English and Hindi, not in Kannada.
Similar complaints, over the years, have fuelled the language conflict, contributing to growing animosity against migrants in Bengaluru, a cosmopolitan city and IT capital known to welcome outsiders.
Tracing the journey
As per the 2011 Census, Bengaluru has a multicultural environment with four in 10 residents speaking languages other than Kannada. But the roots of migration to Bengaluru could be traced back for 150 years, say historians. “Bengaluru has always been a pro-development city. Even before joining the Indian Union, when it was part of the Mysore kingdom, it housed many important institutions such as The Indian Institute of Science (IISc) and The National Institute of Mental Health and Neuro Sciences (NIMHANS), along with several technical colleges, attracting migrants for education and employment,” said Arun Javgal, Karnataka Rakshana Vedike’s state organisation secretary.
Social factors contributed to migration. “People from the Madiga community, a Scheduled Caste in Andhra Pradesh, had migrated to the city to escape oppression,” said Vinay Sreenivasa, a social activist.
With the boom in the IT sector and its affiliated industries, such as housing and food service, migration from across the country surged. “While it was steady, the intensity has increased in the past 15 years. Unlike in Chennai, where people from within Tamil Nadu work in IT companies, Bengaluru observed a different trend, with migrants from other states outnumbering the natives,” said historian S. Anwar.
Growing animosity
The animosity in Bengaluru is predominantly directed at the imposition of Hindi, rather than toward migrants speaking Telugu, Tamil, or northeastern languages. Hindi, despite not being the second-most spoken language in Bengaluru, is displayed on billboards, metro station signages, and at exam centres, which many locals view as a form of cultural dominance. This has triggered unease and anger as Kannada speakers feel their language and identity are being sidelined in their own state, sparking protests and a push for Kannada to take precedence over Hindi in public spaces.
“There is a concern that the number of Kannada speakers will decrease. Hindi supremacy is evident in Bengaluru, more due to the anti-federal move from the union government. When everything is centralised, the states lose their power. It is a threat to the local culture,” said Sreenivasa.
The agitation against the imposition of Hindi, which was central to Dravidian politics in neighbouring Tamil Nadu, also found support in Karnataka, with Kannada scholars advocating the use of Kannada over Hindi.
State politicians, on the other hand, are pro-actively promoting Kannada. In October 2023, Karnataka chief minister Siddaramaiah asserted that everyone living in Karnataka should learn to speak Kannada. He has also reprimanded journalists for using Hindi, refused to answer questions in Hindi, and asked reporters to either use English or Kannada.
Kannada speakers have posted on social media platforms about their experiences of feeling alien in the city. “How would you feel if you went to the bank and the staff could communicate only in Hindi? They even ask you to learn Hindi, claiming it to be our national language, when it definitely is not,” said Prakash Gowda, a native Bengalurean.
“Any social or economic development that doesn't benefit the locals will definitely infuriate them. A section of the Hindi-speaking population, especially after the post-IT revolution in the city, are insensitive about local culture and the language,” Anwar said.
A ray of hope
The state government is taking steps to promote Kannada within the state. The Kannada Development Authority has initiated the Kannada Kali program to teach Kannada free of charge to interested individuals. Several non-governmental organisations are also contributing to this effort. BV Raghavan, founder convenor of Kannada Prasada Parishad, noted an increase in the number of migrants eager to learn Kannada out of love for the language. “Native Hindi speakers working in Bengaluru’s IT companies, hospitals, and restaurants are willing to learn Kannada. The issue arises when some people view Kannada as inferior and Hindi as superior,” Raghavan said.
Alemla, a native of Nagaland who works at a beauty parlour, is learning Kannada to better connect with her customers. “I find the language to be poetic. I started with ‘Gothilla’ (I don’t know) and now I can converse smoothly with my customers,” Alemla said.
Bengaluru, affectionately known as ‘ooru’, has long been welcoming migrants from all over India. To forge a lasting bond with its residents, the simple technique is to embrace its culture and language. A ‘svalpa’ effort can go a long way.