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The Rediff Special/Madhuri V Krishnan
No English please, only Kannada spoken here
Inside a small classroom at Cubbon Park in verdant Bangalore, a mundu-clad teacher, chalk in hand, explains some subtle and not-so-subtle nuances of the Kannada script to a handful of professionals, most of whom are immigrants from Bombay and Delhi.
Classes like this are conducted periodically in Bangalore,
organised by a few state-run organisations. The fees are nominal (Rs 50), and the classes begin with an introduction to the first standard Kannada textbook.
While the teacher goodhumouredly explains the difference between
hana and hena (wealth and corpse in Kannada) there is feverish activity around the city, mainly in the posh, tourist-infested areas of Bangalore, like Commercial Street, Mahatma Gandhi (South Parade in the British Raj), Brigade Road and not-so-posh areas like Kempe Gowda, J C Road and Majestic, the city's busiest area.
The reason for all this activity? A circular issued to shopowners by the Kannada Development Authority -- which was set up in 1983 with the intention of promoting the cause of Kannada -- forcing them to whitewash, paint and cover their signboards in English with a larger, more prominent version of the establishment's name in Karnataka's official language, Kannada. Either paint the shop's name in Kannada -- in a more prominent, larger size -- before December 10 or else, the KDA edict warned:
a. A fine of Rs 5,000 (the estimated cost of a new signboard) would be charged by the KDA;
b. the English signboard would be lowered and a case lodged against the shop's owner;
c. the shop's licence may be revoked/may not be renewed;
d. and/ or the government would take custody of the commercial space.
The anti-English campaign began on a cloudy November afternoon on
Commercial Street, home to 250-odd shops and an avenue frequented by tourists and honeymooners. Headed by a Leeds University-educated professor of English, Chandrashekar Patil, who is also the KDA chairman, a bunch of government officials and policemen began demolishing signboards and sundry signs on the street.
The shopkeepers were stunned by the destruction which was accompanied by slogans like 'The British left India long ago, why are you clinging on to their language?' and 'You eat the salt of Karnataka and do not speak Kannada, traitors!'
The demolition party moved to other areas and repeated the mayhem. At
Majestic, the city's busiest area, a huge Coke signboard was burned down. The
crowd also got unruly. Says Patil, "Didn't you see me slapping a boy who was throwing a stone at one of the shops? We did not encourage this. Besides
this incident, nothing serious happened.''
However, the ANZ Grindlays, Deutsche Bank and Global Trust Bank offices and the Bata, Lee and Reebok showrooms reported damage.
Why was the state government aiding the campaign? In its defence the government cited the Karnataka Shops and Commercial Establishment Rules, 1963, which was framed under the Karnataka Shops and Commercial Establishment Act, 1961. The
only reference to the display of nameboards is made in Rule 24A: 'Exhibition of nameboard: The nameboard of every establishment shall be in Kannada and wherever other languages are also used, the versions in such other languages shall be below the Kannada version.''
'Prominence,' 'foremost,' 'bold,' 'pramukha', 'pratham' freely used by the KDA in its warnings to shopowners are not mentioned in the relevant rule.
On Wednesday morning, the Mescos showroom was having a facelift. Says J T Malvani, who has franchised his shop to Mescos, "I am about to change the board. This is harassment. I came from Bombay because my doctors advised me to settle down in a cooler place. Who knew these people would create such problems for businessmen? What difference will a nameboard in Kannada make to shoppers who are mainly tourists and do not understand Kannada anyway?"
"At my age, I cannot grasp a new language. These KDA guys
have now sent us circulars to change all our bills and vouchers into
Kannada. How can I do it?'' Malvani says, pulling out a copy of Learn Kannada in 30 Days. He thinks it will be a long time before he masters the language.
Ramesh, a Kannadiga, has not yet changed his shop's signboard. "If they force us to
do this," he says, "it will only make the outsiders hate us more. This change should have been brought about gradually, it should be given a practical and realistic framework, shopowners should have been convinced before the deadline, yet threats of a fine, eviction and legal action were thrust on us.''
Balakrishnan, the Titan shop representative, was wary when Rediff On The NeT spoke to him. "I have not conformed yet, " he said, "because The World of Titan, our shop's name, is a brand logo. We cannot translate it without the company headquarters's permission. They are deliberating on it and I just hope there's no trouble till then.''
There wasn't. December 10 passed smoothly into the night. Professor Patil was out of town. Most shopowners were, however, taking no chances, giving the Kannada version of the shop's name 75 per cent of the space on the board; the English version got the remaining 25 per cent.
Shopowner Abdul Rahman thinks "this kind of zabardasti is ugly."
"Do you think villagers come to shop at Brigade or M G Road?" he asks. "Bangalore is a cosmopolitan city, they are just spoiling the atmosphere here.''
Adds another shopkeeper, who would not give his name, "These ministers have studied in England, their children go to English medium schools like Bishop Cotton and Sacred Heart in Bangalore, and here they are imposing their will and fancy. This is just to gain political mileage or else why aren't they going to other streets?''
Which is true. Infantry Road, which is parallel to Commercial Street, and Residency Road, which is parallel to M G Road, have many signboards in English. The boards have not been touched. Neither have the countless billboards in English across the city.
The ones laughing all the way to the bank are the signboard
painters. From between Rs 50 and Rs 100 a metre, they now charge Rs 500 a metre for a mere whitewash. The cost of making nameboards in Bangalore had, in any case, gone up in the last three years. A small board could set the shopowner back by Rs 10,000; larger boards cost anything from Rs 50,000 upwards.
The MNCs, who have flocked to Bangalore in the last ten years, do not appear perturbed by the KDA campaign. MNC managers believe it is too transient to pay much attention to. Says Som Mittal, managing director of Digital, the computer company, "We all know it is a populist stand and if we have to please them, we will.''
"At London airport," he continues, "I observed they have signs in
at least seven languages Including Chinese, Hindi and Japanese.
It made sense. Why can't we do it that here? Still, I think this issue will be unproductive. Why force people to do anything?''
Thribhuvan Kumar, a well travelled State Bank of India employee and a Bangalore native for the last 25 years, is critical of the KDA plan. "Is this such a pressing issue?" he asks. "We don't have a universal law governing us, we have outdated legislation, our roads and railways have deteriorated and here these people are worried that a few shops in the city do not have nameboards in Kannada.''
The anti-English 'movement' is being taken to every district in the state by members of various Kannada organisations such as the Kannada Jagruthi Samithi and the Kannada Sahitya Parishat. In Bellary, they have demanded that cinema tickets be printed in Kannada and roadside hoardings also be in Kannada.
D-day for the final transformation in the state is set for January 14. "In
the interim period, between December 10 to January 14, shopowners
are advised to lower the English signboards and put up cloth banners
in Kannada. But after January 14, all signboards must be permanent,
and in Kannada. Or else strong action will be taken,'' warns Professor Patil.
He claims there is not much resistance to the KDA campaign. "We provide electricity, land and government loans," he says, "don't they owe us anything in exchange?''
Next on the KDA agenda is a change on number plates on vehicles plying in the state. The number in Kannada has to be on the right of the vehicle, and English on the left. No deadline has been set for this yet.
More ominous is the third stage of the KDA strategy, implementing former Union minister Dr Sarojini Mahishi's recommendation that every job in the state be reserved for native Kannadigas. Professor Patil hopes to get cracking on that in the next three months.
'100 % job reservations for Kannadigas is the KDA's main objective'
EARLIER REPORT:
Bangalore gives English the big boot
EARLIER COLUMNS:
Don't throw English out of India!
Language does not merely portray our lives, it is the human experience
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