Editorial | Language Lost, Identity Strained

Post-colonial history is commonly one of revival and resistance to culture. India, too, broke free from British colonial rule with its soul unbroken and its people wishing to achieve independence and self-respect. In our victory over imperial rule, however, we have inevitably held on to one of its most effective tools—the English language. Though the British departed in 1947, English did not leave. Instead, it intensified, digging itself deep into the administration, education, judiciary, media, and even into the dreams of every Indian family. Now, in the spirit of our sovereignty and heritage, we must now wonder: at what expense have we welcomed a foreign tongue while relegating our own regional languages to the fringes?

In Kashmir, for example, the decaying of Kashmiri language from public life, from education, even from homes is felt. The Valley is not alone—whether it is Tamil, Bengali, Marathi, Dogri, or Malayalam, the tale is the same with a change of names. We are seeing our linguistic identity slowly eroded that connected our communities, narrated our tales, and constructed our worldview.

Language is not merely a means of communication. It is a ship of culture, memory, and belonging. Sidelining our mother tongues and adopting English threatens to deprive us of centuries of poetic heritage, philosophical thinking, folklore, and family warmth. Habba Khatoon’s or Rasul Mir’s stories, our village elders’ earthy idiom, our mothers’ lullabies—all these cannot be translated without losing their soul. English, as strong as it is, is still a convenience language, not an emotional language for the majority of Indians.

Ironically, we fought against colonialism, gave lives for liberty, but perpetuated the language of the colonizer with greater fervor. English was the key to success, the label of being intelligent, the ticket to employment and respect. The education system added fuel to this. Students are usually discouraged from using their native language even in the home. “Speak English” has become a boastful parental instruction. English is rewarded at school while native languages are made optional or even second-rate.

It is well to recall that there is no developed nation that has climbed on borrowed language. The Japanese did not drop Japanese for English. The Germans did not drop German. The Chinese state established Mandarin as the language of power, education, and science, while remaining tolerant of other regional dialects. But we Indians tend to make English synonymous with progress and mother tongue with backwardness. That line of thinking more than anything else represents the long-lasting legacy of colonial rule.

Of course, English has served as a unifying force in a linguistically heterogeneous nation like India. It enables a Tamil-speaking engineer to talk to a Kashmiri scientist or a Gujarati businessman to collaborate with an Assamese banker. In a globalized world, English also provides access to global opportunities. But that does not imply we must opt for either one or the other. The coexistence of English with local languages is not only feasible—it is inevitable.

Preservation and promotion of regional languages is not a sentimental appeal; it is a democratic necessity. The Indian Constitution accepts 22 official languages. Article 350A calls upon every state to impart primary education in the mother tongue of the child. But implementation is spasmodic. Governments, teachers, and communities have to take the responsibility all together. Local language press has to be encouraged. Cultural institutions have to be revivified. Schools have to give regional languages equal respect, not as subsidiary subjects.

Even more is the need in Jammu & Kashmir. With the revocation of Article 370, there has been an attempt to accelerate national integration. Integration must not, however, translate to assimilation. Maintenance of Kashmiri, Dogri, Balti, Pahari, and other indigenous languages is a must for the protection of the region’s distinct identity. Language is the key to cultural autonomy and self-respect. Without it, identity turns into an empty shell.

Let us be unmistakable: this is not an invitation to abandon English. It is an invitation to reappropriate our own languages from the margins. It is an invitation to equalize ambition with honesty. Parents need to speak to their children in their mother tongues proudly. Writers need to write in it. Poets need to sing in it. Schools need to teach it—not only for a few weekly lessons but as a fundamental language of learning.

Our greatest tribute to our forebears who resisted foreign domination is not simply to celebrate freedom each year, but to reclaim what colonialism sought to suppress—our own voices.

Let English be a bridge, not a substitution. Let our mother tongues be the foundation. Ultimately, a nation that loses its language can retain its land, but not its soul.