Maharashtra’s Flip-Flop on Hindi as Third Language and Why it Undermines India’s Linguistic Diversity

The Maharashtra government’s recent directive, which effectively mandated Hindi as the third language in Marathi and English medium schools from Classes 1 to 5, has set off a political and cultural firestorm in the western state.

The order was quickly revised following uproar via a corrigendum, clarifying that it is not mandatory and allowing flexibility for students to opt for other Indian languages. However, the brief but revealing flip-flop unleashed long-simmering anxieties about identity, power and cultural hegemony in a multilingual state.

Policy and retraction

The controversial language mandate was introduced through the State Curriculum Framework for School Education 2024, aligned with the National Education Policy (NEP) 2020. The original government resolution (GR) stated that Hindi would “generally” be the third language, alongside the compulsory inclusion of Marathi in all English or Marathi medium schools. This is explicitly mentioned in the section titled ‘Policy and Retraction’.

This wording triggered swift political backlash and critics argued that it effectively imposed Hindi, irrespective of NEP 2020’s promise of linguistic choice. 

Subsequently, the state issued a hasty corrigendum clarifying that Hindi is not compulsory as the third language and students can choose any Indian language if at least 20 students per grade opt for it, with arrangements made for teachers or online instruction. 

However, Congress state president Harsh Vardhan Sapkal dismissed the clarification, stating that “changing words does not change the intent.” 

Maharashtra Navnirman Sena chief Raj Thackeray went further, accusing the government of bowing to “bureaucratic pressure”, and urged school principals to resist the order.

The three-language formula: Between flexibility and subterfuge

At the heart of the controversy is Maharashtra’s interpretation of NEP 2020. While the NEP replaced the rigid formula of its 1968 predecessor with a more flexible approach – encouraging three languages, at least two of which must be Indian – the state’s GR revealed a bias toward making Hindi the default third language.

This move was widely viewed as a departure from the NEP’s spirit of multilingualism and inclusivity. Apoorvanand, a scholar of Hindi, argues in an interview with Kunal Kamra that the move reflects a broader ideological project of “Ek Rashtra, Ek Sanskriti” (One Nation, One Culture). 

He warned that such a project, cloaked in policy language, undermines India’s linguistic diversity. 

Maharashtra, home to diverse languages such as Gujarati, Urdu, Kannada and Konkani alongside Marathi, exemplifies the state’s rich linguistic tapestry that deserves recognition and support.

Even within the so-called Hindi heartland, dialects such as Maithili, Awadhi and Bhojpuri are often swallowed by the catch-all term “Hindi” in census records, erasing their distinctiveness.

Neglecting Marathi

Behind the backlash lies another equally potent concern – the systemic neglect of Marathi in Maharashtra itself. As political science professor Deepak Pawar of Mumbai University says, Marathi-medium schools have been on the decline for years. Expensive English-medium schools – often of dubious quality – have proliferated, sidelining the state’s own language. 

The attempt to elevate Hindi in such a context, while Marathi struggles for institutional support, was bound to provoke outrage.

Pawar’s organisation has long campaigned against this erosion, calling out the contradictions in a state that champions Marathi pride in rhetoric but undermines it in policy. His critique resonates in a state where demography is shifting, particularly in Mumbai and its suburbs, which have seen a significant influx of North Indian migrant workers. 

Their increasing numbers have political ramifications, altering electoral calculations and giving rise to fears – however real or imagined – of a creeping Hindi hegemony.

Of language and power

This moment in Maharashtra’s political atmosphere uncannily echoes South Asia’s own troubled past with language politics. In 1948, Pakistan’s founder Muhammad Ali Jinnah had declared Urdu as the sole national language, ignoring demands for Bengali’s recognition (in, then, East Pakistan). The decision had ignited massive protests, culminating in the tragic 1952 Dhaka University student killings – an event now commemorated as UNESCO’s International Mother Language Day. It eventually contributed to the formation of Bangladesh in 1971.

That historical episode is often glossed over in Indian academic circles. In a recent lecture at Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU), linguist Ayesha Kidwai referred to it only in passing, drawing criticism for failing to acknowledge its seismic political significance. 

Language, as history has shown, is not just a medium of communication – it is a vessel of identity and autonomy. When imposed from above, it can rupture national unity rather than cement it.

While Hindi is not as culturally distant from Maharashtra as Urdu was from Bengali-speaking East Pakistan, the principle remains the same. Imposing a language, even subtly or bureaucratically, risks alienating communities and fracturing democratic consensus.

Demographics and the politics of perception

Maharashtra’s linguistic anxiety is compounded by shifting demographics. The growing presence of North Indian workers in urban centres has led to perceptions – especially among regionalist parties like the MNS – of a threat to Marathi culture. In this charged climate, any official preference for Hindi is seen not merely as an administrative recommendation, but as cultural imposition.

As Professor Apoorvanand of the Delhi University rightly observes, even within the Hindi-speaking regions, true linguistic homogeneity is a myth. 

The illusion of Hindi as a singular, unifying language is largely a bureaucratic construct, reinforced through census categories and now, arguably, through educational policy.

Towards a consensus model

Many older Maharashtrians recall learning Hindi voluntarily through institutions like the Rashtrabhasha Prachar Samiti. The issue is not the language itself, but the coercive framework within which it is being introduced. 

In a country as linguistically plural as India, a common tongue can only emerge organically. In places like Lucknow, Hindustani evolved naturally – rooted in shared cultural experiences and mutual respect, not official diktats.

Today, technology offers unprecedented opportunities for inclusive language learning. Mobile apps, online classes and AI-powered translation tools can support multilingual education without privileging one language over others. 

Educational institutions must empower students to learn in the languages they are most comfortable with. This is not just good pedagogy; it is a matter of dignity.

Democratic ethos and cultural integrity

Maharashtra’s rapid U-turn on the Hindi language policy may have defused immediate tensions, but the debate is far from over. Language policy in India is never just about schools and syllabi – it is about belonging, representation and power. The state’s flip-flop reveals a lack of preparedness and, perhaps, an underestimation of the public’s sensitivity to linguistic politics.

In a democracy, language cannot be enforced by decree. Respecting regional languages is not an act of parochialism – it is foundational to India’s federal and constitutional character. 

Maharashtra’s experience should serve as a cautionary tale for other states attempting to implement NEP 2020 without adequate consultation or sensitivity to local realities.

Charting a multilingual future

The way forward lies not in privileging one language over another but in cultivating a genuinely multilingual educational environment. This means investing in Marathi-medium schools, enabling the teaching of other Indian languages where there is demand and using technology to bridge resource gaps. 

More importantly, it means acknowledging that identity and language are inseparable in a country as diverse as India.

A truly inclusive language policy will not emerge from administrative corridors, but from the lived realities and aspirations of its people. 

Maharashtra has the opportunity to lead by example – by protecting Marathi, respecting other Indian languages, and resisting the allure of linguistic centralisation masquerading as national unity.

Hasnain Naqvi is a former member of the history faculty at St. Xavier’s College, Mumbai.

This is the second part of a two-part series on the revival of the debate on linguistic politics in India. Read the part one here.

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