India’s landscape has once again become a battleground—and this time, it’s a fight we’ve been having for more than a hundred years. The multilingual fabric of every state and the country as a whole is under scrutiny. The debates around language policy, cultural preservation, and national identity have resurfaced not by accident, but because there’s a profit—political, cultural, and economic—in keeping us divided.

What’s going on?

The latest trigger is the National Education Policy (NEP) 2020, which has brought language to the center of public debate again. While some fear it as a tool to impose Hindi, others see hope in its emphasis on multilingualism. NEP promotes mother-tongue instruction till at least Grade 5 and reaffirms the three-language formula. If implemented with sincerity and resources, it could truly make India multilingual. But that’s a big “if.”

Because right now, the policy is being kicked around like a political football. States are wary. Implementation is patchy. And in all this noise, what we’re not talking about enough is the urgent need for trained regional teachers, educational materials in tribal and regional languages, and real infrastructure support. NEP can absolutely be used to push Hindi from the top—but it can just as effectively be used by states to demand what’s rightfully theirs: inclusion, representation, and resources.

The NEP and the Promise of Multilingual Education

NEP 2020, at its core, recognizes that children learn best in their mother tongue. That’s not just common sense, it’s backed by research. It also allows states the flexibility to choose which three languages they want to promote. That sounds fair—until we realize that, without proper support, even a well-written policy can do harm.

Take tribal languages—without teachers or textbooks, how will these survive? Or border districts where linguistic diversity is high—how do we ensure multilingual classrooms work without overwhelming under-resourced schools?

Let’s be clear: NEP should not be a tool of homogenization. It should be used to amplify diversity, not erase it. The burden of language learning cannot fall on the marginalized while the powerful continue to dictate what counts as ‘mainstream.’

State-Level Tensions and Polarization

Opposition to perceived Hindi imposition in Tamil Nadu is not new. It comes from a long history of linguistic assertion. Maharashtra, similarly, asserts Marathi pride. In Bangalore, concerns grow among Kannada speakers that their language is being pushed out by a cosmopolitan workforce.

But let’s not mistake pride for exclusion. There’s a thin line—and sometimes, that line gets crossed. Migrants are being told they don’t belong because they speak a different language. Meanwhile, anyone resisting Hindi is labeled anti-national. This isn’t just language politics; it’s a deeper identity crisis.

And let’s not forget—language learning as an adult is hard. Migrant laborers in Mumbai or construction workers in Bangalore barely get time to rest, let alone take Kannada classes. And while it’s fair to expect migrants to make an effort, it’s equally important not to bully them into assimilation. Their children are already learning the language in schools. That’s where integration starts—not with humiliation, not with hostility.

Historical Foundations: The Linguistic Reorganization of States

India has been here before. In 1920, the Congress accepted the idea of linguistic provinces. After independence, the Dar Commission advised against it, fearing disunity. But public pressure led to the States Reorganization Commission in 1953, which redrew India’s linguistic map.

Even back then, the debate was complex. Ambedkar supported linguistic states but wanted a common language at the center to hold the country together. K.M. Munshi feared linguistic fragmentation. Nehru warned against chauvinism. The point is: they all understood that language can either unite or divide—it depends on how we use it.

The Silent Language Genocide

And while we fight over Hindi and English, hundreds of languages are quietly dying. According to UNESCO, every two weeks, we lose a language. 196 Indian languages are endangered. Toda in the Nilgiris. Bo in the Andamans. Kurux in Central India. These aren’t just languages—they’re worldviews, lost forever.

The culprits? Urbanization, state apathy, and an education system that leaves no room for diversity. And yes—majority languages in states can also be guilty. Dialects, tribal languages, and regional tongues are often dismissed as ‘lesser.’ The push to speak only Marathi, only Kannada, only Tamil—it might come from cultural pride, but it often ends up excluding those who helped build these states brick by brick.

Language and Migration: The Crisis of Inclusion

Let’s talk about internal migration. 139 million Indians have moved across states in search of better futures. But instead of welcoming them, we’re building walls—linguistic ones.

A Bihari worker in Punjab, a Tamil engineer in Noida, a Gujarati trader in Kerala—all are seen as outsiders because they don’t speak the ‘local’ tongue. In Mumbai, speaking Bhojpuri invites ridicule. In Bangalore, IT professionals are shamed for not knowing Kannada. This is not how a pluralistic country behaves.

Cities thrive because of diversity. And yet, we treat linguistic difference as a threat. We need language training programs for migrants, yes—but we also need locals to drop the hostility. This is not about losing your language—it’s about making space for others.

A Way Forward: Embracing Linguistic Pluralism

So where do we go from here? We stop looking at language as a weapon. We treat it as a bridge. Here’s what that looks like:

1. Expand Constitutional Protections – Any language spoken by over a million people deserves recognition. Let’s update the Eighth Schedule to reflect real India.
2. Invest in Education – NEP must be backed by real money, real teachers, and real books in real languages. Multilingual education can’t just be an ideal—it has to be infrastructure.
3. Reward Multilingualism – Give tax benefits to multilingual workplaces. Extra marks in government exams for those who know more than one language. Fund cultural programs that celebrate linguistic diversity.
4. Support Migrants with Dignity – Integration programs, not humiliation. Language classes for those who want to learn. Respect for those who are trying.
5. Use Media and Tech Smartly – Regional content quotas for streaming platforms. AI tools for real-time translation. Digital archives to preserve endangered languages.

Conclusion: The Choice Before India

India has over 19,500 mother tongues. That’s not a burden—that’s our superpower. But only if we respect each other.

The Cholas supported Sanskrit and nurtured Tamil. The Mughals embraced Persian while encouraging regional languages. Even the British, for all their damage, couldn’t kill our linguistic spirit.

A child in Punjab should grow up loving Punjabi. A migrant worker in Bangalore should be welcomed with the option to learn Kannada—not the threat to leave. A tribal speaker in Jharkhand should not lose their mother tongue because no school will teach it.

This is not about choosing one language over another. This is about choosing coexistence over conflict. Like Ambedkar said, national unity can’t come through bullying. It comes through mutual respect.

We’re at a crossroads. Either we continue to let language divide us, or we build a multilingual India that reflects who we really are.

The time to make that choice is now.