Karnataka Rajyotsava (November 1) is in many ways a celebration of Karnataka’s very identity and of what makes Karnataka what it is – its vast diversity, rich heritage, breathtaking scenery, and of course, its many peoples. This identity was famously defined through the concept of Karnāṭakatva, or “Karnataka-ness”, by the spiritual leader and chief idealogue of the Karnataka Ekikarana (Unification) movement, Aluru Venkata Rao, in 1917.
What’s often overlooked today is the contribution that speakers of numerous minority languages in the state have made to both Karnataka’s culture, and the Kannada language. As a tribute to Karnāṭakatva, Rajyotsava should also be an occasion to remember and acknowledge the massive role Karnataka’s minority languages have played in shaping this larger identity.
Karnataka is unique among south Indian states in that roughly over a third of its population at 35 per cent identifies as speaking a mother tongue other than its state language. To put that into perspective, in no other south Indian state are minority languages spoken by over 18 per cent of the population. Geographically speaking, large swathes of Karnataka have high concentrations of minority language speakers, with entire taluks dominated by these languages, although most of these communities actively use Kannada as their formal, written language.
As one travels from Bengaluru to Kodagu and then up the coast to Karwar via Mangalore, before passing through Belgaum on the way to Bidar, one hears a dazzling array of languages at every stop – Kodava, Tulu, Marathi, Dakhni Urdu and more.
Kannada literary culture is marked by an exceptional degree of cosmopolitanism – Kannada’s first rāṣṭrakavi (national poet), Manjeshwara Govinda Pai, was a Konkani speaker, and three out of Kannada’s eight Jnanapitha awardees spoke a language other than Kannada at home. Kannada print culture was born in Mangaluru, a predominantly Tulu-speaking city – the first ever Kannada newspaper, Mangaluru Samachara, was printed in the city starting in 1843.
Aluru Venkata Rao himself recognised, very early on, how minority languages played a key role in forming Karnāṭakatva. While Kannada might not be mother tongue of these communities, it is no less theirs, and Karnataka itself was envisioned as a nation with ample room for diversity.
In fact, in a speech on the day of Karnataka’s unification in 1956, Rao declared: “Karnataka is a much broader entity than Kannada. Not only the speakers of dialects, we should also not forget the minorities who speak other languages.”
In the decades since then however, this awareness seems to have sharply dwindled, with the decline of functional multilingualism, the solidifying of linguistic borders, and the perceived threat English poses to Indian languages hastening this.
Although there admittedly exists a certain implicit hierarchy in the space Karnataka’s languages occupy, with the primacy of Kannada and minority languages below it, the relationships it has with these languages must be seen as symbiotic, characterised by mutual respect.
It's worth remembering that Karnataka could only come into shape with the active support of these communities and Kannada has only achieved its present level literary refinement with their contributions. It logically follows that there exists an obligation to support them in return, for this debt owed to them.
Actively promoting minority languages, through local government initiatives that cultivate them and provide resources that sustain and support their growth, would go a long way to fixing this.
To start off with, standardising these languages, as well as recording and digitising their oral traditions would give them a strong foundation on which additional layers can be built.
Tulu speakers for example have been exerting pressure on local MPs in the Mangalore-Udupi belt to fight for the language’s inclusion within the list of Scheduled Languages, which would effectively mark its official recognition. Local schools have also phased in Tulu as a subject, and Pre-university and Under Graduate colleges are beginning to offer courses in it as well.
However, while local initiatives are good, the responsibility should lie with the government itself – institutional support should be forthcoming, not something these communities have to work in lieu of. Marginalised communities, like Koraga speakers (an Adivasi community) do not themselves possess the resources to promote their language.
Fortunately, advances in technology and linguistics make this process a great deal easier. The digital medium also offers platforms for languages to instantly build discursive spaces for mass communication, since anyone with access to the Internet can hypothetically do so.
In short, both policy-level reform as well as technical expertise are needed to ensure that Karnataka’s minority languages get the attention they deserve. To do so would be to strengthen the very idea of Karnataka – its Karnāṭakatva.
After all, isn’t that what Rajyotsava is all about?
(Karthik Malli writes on the intersection of language, history, and identity in South India)