Poonam Sharma
In India, language is never just about communication. It is about identity, power, pride, and politics. The recent remarks by Tamil Nadu IT Minister Palanivel Thiaga Rajan, defending the state’s rejection of the three-language formula and daring the Centre to “do better,” have once again reopened an old but uncomfortable debate:
If no Indian language is acceptable as a common link language, why is English so easily accepted?
The DMK’s official position is that it is not against Hindi as a language, but against what it calls “Hindi imposition.” On the surface, this sounds unreasonable and undemocratic. No federal democracy should force cultural or linguistic uniformity on its states. Yet, beneath this argument lies a contradiction that is rarely addressed honestly.
English,, was once imposed — by colonial rulers. It did not emerge organically from Indian society. It arrived with power, hierarchy, and domination. And yet, decades after Independence, English is widely accepted as the language of opportunity, aspiration, and “progress,” while Hindi is framed as a threat to regional identity.
This contrast raises an uncomfortable question:
In Tamil Nadu, the two-language formula of Tamil and English is projected as a model of social justice and educational efficiency. But there is an unspoken hierarchy in this arrangement. Tamil is the language of identity, culture, and emotional belonging. English is the language of power — higher education, corporate jobs, global mobility, and social prestige.
Hindi, on the other hand, is neither given cultural legitimacy in the state nor allowed functional space as a link language. It is viewed as a political instrument of the Centre rather than as a language spoken by millions of Indians across regions, classes, and professions.
The irony is striking.
A foreign language, once imposed by colonial rulers, is accepted without protest.
A native Indian language, understood by a large section of the population, is rejected in the name of federalism and cultural protection.
This does not mean Hindi should be forced upon anyone. But it does invite reflection on the logic of resistance. If “imposition” is the problem, why is English never framed as an imposition today? Why is English seen as modern and liberating, while Hindi is seen as regressive or politically loaded?
The answer lies not in linguistics, but in psychology.
The Quiet Survival of Colonial Mindset
India may have gained political independence in 1947, but mental independence is a slower journey. English still carries symbolic power. Speaking fluent English is often equated with intelligence, sophistication, and success. Indian languages, regardless of their depth and richness, are often subconsciously treated as markers of localness, not leadership.
This hierarchy of languages reproduces colonial patterns.
Earlier, power spoke English.
Today, power still speaks English — in boardrooms, policy documents, elite universities, and global platforms.
When regional leaders reject Hindi but embrace English, they may be defending federal autonomy on the surface. But unintentionally, they may also be reinforcing the idea that legitimacy flows more easily from foreign frameworks than from indigenous ones.
It creates a strange paradox:
We reject “cultural dominance” from within the country, but remain comfortable with cultural dominance inherited from colonial history.
Is Hindi Really Being “Imposed”?
There is legitimate concern about centralisation and one-size-fits-all policies in a diverse country like India. States must have the freedom to design their education systems based on local needs. However, it is also true that Hindi today functions as a practical link language across much of India — in transport, entertainment, digital platforms, and everyday inter-state communication.
This has happened less through legal enforcement and more through social usage, migration, media, and popular culture. Millions of Indians pick up basic Hindi not because they are forced to, but because it helps them navigate the country.
The fear of Hindi “imposition” often becomes a political symbol rather than a lived reality for ordinary people. For many working-class migrants, shopkeepers, drivers, and service workers, Hindi is simply a tool of survival and connection.
Rejecting this social reality in the name of cultural purity risks turning language into an elite political project rather than a people’s resource.
The Real Question Is Not Language, but Power
At its core, the debate is not about Hindi versus Tamil or English versus regional languages. It is about who decides the rules of participation in modern India.
When English remains the language of elite mobility, it preserves old hierarchies.
When Hindi is rejected as a common Indian link language, it fragments the idea of shared national conversation.
When regional languages are confined to emotion and culture but not power and technology, inequality deepens.
True linguistic justice would mean:
Indian languages gaining equal status in higher education, science, and governance
English losing its monopoly over opportunity
Hindi being acceped as a link language, not a forced identity marker
And regional languages being empowered without being isolated
Mental Freedom Is the Real Decolonisation
If we truly oppose “imposition,” then the resistance must go beyond politics and reach into mindset. We must ask ourselves:Why does a Western language feel neutral and modern, while an Indian language feels political and threatening? Until we confront this contradiction honestly, our debates on language will remain performative. The real decolonisation of India is not about replacing one policy with another. It is about freeing ourselves from the silent belief that legitimacy comes more easily from outside than from within. And that is a far more difficult battle than any election or policy dispute.
