‘Zubaan bandh’: Policing Hindi’s Urdu roots threatens India’s linguistic soul

The government’s recent ‘forwarding of a viewer’s complaint’ to several major Hindi news channels for using Urdu words has ignited debate on the language, history and identity in India.

This action — initially reported as a ‘notice to channels’ in a section of the India — nevertheless highlights longstanding tensions and complexities around the linguistic boundaries of Hindi and Urdu, and raises serious questions about linguistic policy, social cohesion and political motives surrounding both.

The ‘notice’ that sparked a storm

Last week, the ministry of information and broadcasting ostensibly (per a PIB Fact Check 'clarification' on 21 September, Sunday) forwarded a viewer’s complaint to major Hindi news channels — TV9 Bharatvarsh, Aaj Tak, ABP, Zee News and TV18 — alleging that their broadcasts contained “excessive use” of Urdu words, up to 30 per cent of the total vocabulary.

The ministry apparently suggested, per early news reports, that the channels minimise such usage and even suggested the appointment of a ‘language expert’ to ensure the ‘purity’ of their Hindi.

Ironically, the missive from the ministry itself included Urdu-origin words such as ghalat, shikayat, tehat, taur, dinon, khilaaf, istemal — words so deeply embedded in everyday Hindi that most speakers would never distinguish them as ‘foreign’.

The letter raises troubling questions, however, even if it be an undoctored complaint being forwarded (and why forward, with no attendant opinion): Who owns a language? Can governments dictate — or even indicate — which words live and which should die? And what does even amplifying such a ‘complaint’ say about its stance, as an executive body and supposed authority on broadcasting standards, about India’s pluralist traditions?

Hindi, Urdu and Hindustani: A shared history

The controversy rests on a flawed premise — that Hindi and Urdu are two separate, oppositional languages tied to different religions. In reality, they are twin registers of the same linguistic family.

• Origins: Both Hindi and Urdu emerged from Khari Boli, a dialect of Delhi and surrounding regions, historically called Hindvi or Hindustani.

• Shared vocabulary: While Hindi leans on Sanskrit for formal vocabulary and Urdu draws from Persian–Arabic, both share a massive overlap in grammar, idiom and spoken words.

• Historical usage: As linguist Tariq Rahman notes, even in the 18th century, writers used the terms Hindi, Hindustani, Rekhta and Urdu interchangeably. Mir Taqi Mir, often called the ‘God of Urdu poetry’, sometimes referred to his own verse as ‘Hindi’.

The attempt to create rigid separations is relatively modern — shaped by colonial policies of classification and later weaponised in communal politics.

Colonial legacies of language politics

The British, with their ‘divide-and-rule’ strategy, played a decisive role in hardening the Hindi–Urdu divide.

• 1837: Persian was replaced by Hindustani (in Perso-Arabic script) as the court language in North India.

• 1860s onwards: Hindu reformist groups began campaigning for Devanagari Hindi, while Muslim elites defended Urdu in Persian script.

• 1900: The Hindi–Urdu controversy deepened in the United Provinces, aligning language with religion: Hindi became associated with Hindus, Urdu with Muslims. As scholar Alok Rai has argued in Hindi Nationalism, this was the moment when language stopped being simply a mode of communication and became a marker of identity, loyalty and politics.

The recent missive from the information and broadcasting ministry echoes this colonial legacy rather than transcending it.

The irony of ‘pure’ Hindi

The call for a ‘pure’ Hindi is not only impractical but historically artificial. Hindi, like all languages, is a living, breathing organism that has absorbed influences across centuries.

• From Persian and Arabic: Everyday words like duniya (world), insaan (human), mohabbat (love), imaan (faith), waqt (time), taqat (strength), aman (peace) are used seamlessly in Hindi cinema, literature and conversation.

• From Turkish: Terms like top (cannon), qila (fort), sipahi (soldier).

• From Portuguese: Words like sabun (soap), meja (table), almari (cupboard).

• From English: Countless terms including bus, station, ticket, mobile, computer now form the fabric of spoken Hindi.

If Urdu words are to be purged, should Hindi also ban these? The logic collapses on itself.

As the poet and lyricist Gulzar once remarked: “Hindustani is not about Sanskrit or Persian, it is about how people speak and feel. To divide it is to wound the soul of the Subcontinent.”

Hindustani in everyday life

Despite bureaucratic attempts at separation, ordinary Indians continue to speak in Hindustani, an effortless blend of Hindi and Urdu.

• Bollywood: From Mughal-e-Azam to Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge to Gully Boy, cinema’s dialogue and lyrics are written in Hindustani, not ‘pure’ Hindi.

• Media: News anchors, advertisers and politicians use a hybrid language to connect with the masses.

• Religion: Even bhajans, qawwalis and Sufi poetry borrow freely from each other’s lexicons. Sant Kabir’s dohas use Persian and Arabic words; Ghalib’s ghazals feature Sanskrit-derived vocabulary.

The ministry’s attempt to separate Urdu from Hindi is thus not only futile but disconnected from lived cultural realities.

Language policing as cultural policing

This episode cannot be seen in isolation. It is part of a broader project of cultural homogenisation. The state is increasingly dictating what people should eat, wear, worship — and now, what words they may speak.

Political subtext: By labelling Urdu as ‘foreign’ or ‘Muslim’, the government feeds into majoritarian narratives that marginalise India’s composite heritage.

Legal overreach: Language regulation falls in a gray area. Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution guarantees freedom of speech and expression. While the state can regulate obscenity or hate speech, dictating vocabulary choices of private media enters dangerous authoritarian territory.

Historical precedents: Fascist regimes across the world have often targeted language. Nazi Germany promoted ‘pure German’, while discouraging words of Hebrew or Yiddish origin. Similar moves have been seen in Turkey under Atatürk’s language reforms, which replaced Persian–Arabic vocabulary with Turkish roots, often breaking cultural continuity. India risks heading down a similar path of linguistic nationalism that denies its own plural ethos.

The absurdity of the ‘complaint’

The greatest irony remains that the government’s own missive warning channels against their use of ‘Urdu’ is riddled with Urdu-origin words.

Had the ministry used only ‘pure’ Sanskritised Hindi, the letter might have been unreadable to its intended recipients. For instance, instead of shikayat (complaint), it would need to use abhiyog; instead of istemal (use), prayog; instead of ghalat (wrong), asatya or apriya. This level of Sanskritisation, as anyone who remembers Doordarshan’s old news bulletins knows, alienates rather than communicates.

The truth is simple: Hindi without Urdu is incomplete. Urdu without Hindi is impossible. Both breathe through each other.

The stakes for India’s linguistic future

India is home to more than 19,500 mother tongues (Census 2011) and 22 official languages under the Eighth Schedule. Its strength lies not in uniformity but in diversity.

Attempts to police Hindi and Urdu risk undermining this pluralism. As historian Sunil Khilnani wrote in The Idea of India, “India’s genius has been to embrace multiplicity, not to erase it.”

The ministry’s notice contradicts this ethos, pushing instead for a homogenised, majoritarian identity that erodes centuries of shared culture.

Let the people speak

Languages evolve through use, not through diktats. They belong to their speakers — not to governments, not to religious authorities, and certainly not to bureaucrats in Delhi.

The ministry’s letter to Hindi channels on using Urdu words reflects not linguistic concern but political anxiety — an attempt to rewrite India’s story in monochrome. But India’s zubaan has always been rangin – colourful, diverse and alive with words from every corner of the world.

To strip Hindi of Urdu is to strip it of its poetry, its music, its warmth. It is to forget that ‘Hindustani’ was once the language of freedom fighters, the idiom of Gandhi’s prayers, Bhagat Singh’s slogans and Nehru’s speeches.

As poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz once wrote: ‘Bol, ke lab azaad hain tere’ [Speak, for your lips are free]’.

The people will continue to speak in the language that is theirs: Hindi-Urdu, Hindustani — the zubaan of India.

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