SBI Manager Sparks Language Flashpoint in Karnataka
A now-viral video captures a moment that feels both petty and profound: an SBI bank manager, posted in Karnataka, flatly refuses to speak Kannada to a customer. When reminded that Karnataka has its own official language β and that RBI guidelines encourage local language use β the manager responds curtly:
βI will never speak Kannada.β
She then walks off.
She has since been transferred, but not before the clip set off a digital firestorm.
This incident may seem minor β another viral tiff between state pride and bureaucratic indifference β but it exposes a deeper tension in Indiaβs federal fabric. At its heart is a language question that never died: who accommodates whom in a multilingual republic? Full clip after the jump.
Defenders of the manager argue that central government staff like SBI officers are transferable, and itβs unrealistic to expect them to learn every state language. Fair enough. But critics point out that when public-facing officers refuse to engage in the local language, it reflects more than policy β it reveals attitude. The refusal wasnβt logistical β it was ideological.
This is not new. The anti-Hindi agitations of the 1960s, especially in Tamil Nadu, were born from precisely this kind of perceived northern overreach. The South has long pushed back against linguistic homogenization β particularly Hindi β and demanded that central institutions respect linguistic federalism.
Yet today, under a government accused of soft Hindi imposition, these flashpoints are resurfacing. Even as India modernizes, the emotional economy of language remains fraught. Language is not just communication β itβs identity, memory, and power.
Is this a one-off incident or a symptom of a deeper misalignment between centre and state, North and South, bureaucracy and people?
As always in the Indian Subcontinent β both.
Those trying to impose Hindi should learn from Pakistan’s experience of imposing Urdu on the former East Pakistan. Language was obviously not the only issue but it was certainly an important one.
Urdu in Pakistan is the “qaumi zabaan” (national language). As far as I am aware, India doesn’t have a national language and Hindi and English are only “Rajbhasas” (administrative languages).
In Pakistan’s case, all the provinces except Punjab teach their own provincial languages in schools. Punjabis have given up their own cultural identity. Perhaps because Punjabi is the liturgical language of Sikhism or as the price of being the most powerful ethnic group in Pakistan. People obviously continue to speak Punjabi but education is given in Urdu or English.
> Perhaps because Punjabi is the liturgical language of Sikhism
Gurbani/Punjabi is not really a liturgical language of Sikhi. According to the Guru Granth Sahib and Sikh Philosophy, hell no, its absolutely NOT a liturgical language. There are 10+ languages that are borrowed from in writing the Guru Granth Sahib. The entire reason the gurus largely wrote in Punjabi was to write in the common tongue. The idea that you would have to experience the divine through a Sanskrit or Arabic educated Priest standing as a paywall was robbing people (particularly poor people or low caste people) of access to spirituality.
My point was that the association of Punjabi with Sikhism perhaps explains why Pakistani Punjabis–who are the majority of Pakistan’s population– don’t fight harder for their own language. Punjabi is not even taught in schools across the province unlike Pashto and Sindhi which are taught in KPK and Sindh.
Pakistani Punjabis have most enthusiastically embraced the state’s identity which is bound up with Urdu. Punjabi is seen as a degraded form of Urdu.
This is a wholly pointless political wedge point. In 10 years all our phones will have instantaneous translation and the language you speak will not matter in transactional situations.
Kannadigas are just sick of the migration to Bangalore, the language is just an easy way to out the North Indians. 20 years ago many auto drivers spoke Tamil better than Kannada in Bangalore, times change.
It also perfectly mirrors the Shiv Sena’s shifting antagonists in Mumbai (from south indians, to Muslims, to Bhaiyyas, just with a lag and time compression)
Social media amplifies divisions, things aren’t so bad on the ground, Bangalorites tend to speak far better Hindi than Chennai or Cochin or Visakhapatnam.
Iβm going to add to this post
It’s a good post. There is some value in articles on the internet to pinpoint the problem and suggest/discuss possible solutions to issues that arise with urbanisation and related immigration. We don’t really have many think tanks or in depth urban planning. Maybe it leads to nothing, still, there is some worth in thinking of these matters.
China has gone through this phase and while they are very different I am sure there are lessons to be learned around it. Unfortunately the reporting and depth of understanding outside PRC is abysmal.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F49LIbAARPE
‘Heart Lamp’ wins International Booker, with stories of India’s Muslim women and girls
Translated from Kannada by Deepa Bhasthi, “Heart Lamp’s rich colloquial style, while not a first in India, fits the narrative and drops naturally from the lips of the characters that populate her stories.
https://www.ndtv.com/india-news/banu-mushtaq-heart-lamp-emotional-explosions-turmoil-are-universal-international-booker-winner-8481649#google_vignette
How odd it roughly happened on the same day – I do need to make an addendum but right now in the Big Happy..
Should be an interesting read. (I sent you a mail btw, who attends to the brownpundits email address, I assume you did not see it).
I have emailed u; I didn’t get anything and I think the email is moribund in fact