top of page

By:

Abhijit Joshi

31 August 2024 at 3:39:24 pm

Language on the Meter

The Marathi language rule for auto and taxi drivers can promote integration, but only if it does not become another instrument of identity politics. The political scenario in Maharashtra has changed after the Cockroach Janata Party’s (CJP) agitation, and every political party is now trying to woo ‘Gen Z’ which could emerge as a significant vote bank by 2029. But Maharashtra’s political conversation has moved to a much more emotionally charged issue: the Marathi language requirement for...

Language on the Meter

The Marathi language rule for auto and taxi drivers can promote integration, but only if it does not become another instrument of identity politics. The political scenario in Maharashtra has changed after the Cockroach Janata Party’s (CJP) agitation, and every political party is now trying to woo ‘Gen Z’ which could emerge as a significant vote bank by 2029. But Maharashtra’s political conversation has moved to a much more emotionally charged issue: the Marathi language requirement for auto-rickshaw and taxi drivers. What began as a transport regulation has quickly become a political contest involving Marathi identity, migrant livelihoods and the BJP’s relationship with the sizeable North Indian electorate in Mumbai and the Mumbai Metropolitan Region. Language Barrier Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis has had to step in to clarify that Hindi-speaking drivers are not expected to become experts in Marathi, but only need enough of the language to conduct their daily work. Samajwadi Party chief Akhilesh Yadav, meanwhile, has attacked the policy, questioning whether language can become a barrier to earning a livelihood in another state. The Maharashtra government has made “working knowledge” of Marathi mandatory for auto-rickshaw, taxi and app-based cab drivers. The rule extends not only to traditional autos and taxis but also to drivers working with aggregators such as Ola, Uber and Rapido. Compliance is linked to their ability to continue operating. RTO teams have been conducting practical tests rather than formal examinations. Drivers are asked basic questions and everyday phrases relating to destinations, fares, routes, meters, travel time and payments. A 16-question format has been reported, designed around situations a driver is likely to encounter with passengers. The scale of enforcement explains why the issue has suddenly become explosive. In the first five days of inspections, authorities checked 35,190 commercial passenger vehicles across Maharashtra, including 14,399 in the MMR, and issued 4,729 notices statewide, of which 2,239 were in the MMR. On August 24 alone, 1,392 drivers were checked in the MMR and 139 were found lacking the required proficiency. Drivers who fail the test are not immediately supposed to lose their livelihoods. They receive a notice and are given time to acquire the required working knowledge. Under the rules, however, continued non-compliance can eventually lead to suspension and, for repeated violations, cancellation of the licence or badge. That is where the policy becomes more complicated. For a driver who works 10–12 hours a day, has limited formal education or has lived in Mumbai for years without needing to speak Marathi fluently, learning a new language under the threat of losing his livelihood is understandably intimidating. Legal Problem There is also a legal question. The Bombay High Court struck down a similar requirement for autorickshaw permits in 2017, raising questions about the statutory basis and the manner in which the present rule is being enforced. The answer lies somewhere between “Marathi must be compulsory” and “nobody should be forced to learn Marathi”. Mumbai cannot function without communication. A passenger should be able to tell a driver where he wants to go, negotiate or understand the fare, ask for directions and communicate basic safety or emergency information. For that purpose, basic Marathi proficiency is a perfectly reasonable requirement for a public-facing transport worker. But basic conversational Marathi is very different from linguistic proficiency. That distinction should become the foundation of the government’s policy. Maharashtra has already taken one important corrective step by announcing 161 Marathi language training centres across the state and a dedicated RTO helpline to address complaints of harassment, illegal fines and procedural irregularities. In the MMR, 16 of the 48 earlier training centres are also being reopened. This should go further. Every driver receiving a notice should automatically be given access to a free, government-recognised Marathi course. The course should be short, practical and audio-visual, teaching perhaps 50–100 sentences relevant to driving rather than grammar, literature or writing. Drivers should be allowed multiple attempts, and the test should be standardised across all RTOs. The issue is not whether Marathi deserves protection. It does. Marathi is Maharashtra’s official and cultural language, and there is nothing unreasonable about expecting people who live and work here to acquire a basic knowledge of it. But Mumbai has historically succeeded because it has absorbed people from across India. The city does not need to choose between Marathi and Hindi. It can accommodate both. Political Minefield The BJP, meanwhile, faces a difficult balancing act. Its Maharashtra leadership cannot ignore Marathi sentiment, but it also cannot afford to alienate migrant communities that have traditionally formed an important part of its urban support base. The emergence of the BJP’s own labour cell criticising alleged harassment of non-Marathi drivers demonstrates just how delicate the issue has become. The labour cell has even threatened an MMR-wide strike if alleged harassment continues. For the Shiv Sena led by Eknath Shinde, the controversy offers an opportunity to reclaim the Marathi identity space traditionally associated with the Sena and the MNS. For the Uddhav Thackeray-led Sena (UBT), the challenge is different: it has criticised policies affecting drivers’ livelihoods while simultaneously trying to retain its Marathi identity credentials. The MNS, unsurprisingly, has adopted the most aggressive position, warning non-Marathi drivers to learn Marathi or leave Maharashtra. The Marathi passenger benefits if communication becomes easier. The non-Marathi driver benefits because he gains a practical skill and greater integration into Mumbai society. The government benefits because implementation becomes less confrontational. And Mumbai benefits because its public transport system becomes more inclusive rather than more polarised. The biggest losers would be the drivers themselves and ordinary commuters. A prolonged strike or large-scale suspension of licences could affect daily mobility across the MMR, particularly for passengers who depend on autos and taxis for last-mile connectivity. The Maharashtra government therefore has an opportunity to turn a politically sensitive controversy into a model of linguistic integration. The correct message should not be: “Speak Marathi or leave Mumbai.” It should be simpler: “You live and work in Maharashtra — learn enough Marathi to connect with the people you serve.” (The writer is a political observer. Views personal.)

Imran Khan’s Fall from Grace

Updated: Oct 21, 2024

Imran Khan’s Fall from Grace

Imran Khan, once hailed as Pakistan’s most charismatic and resilient leader now finds himself in a position unprecedented for a man of his stature.

The former Prime Minister of Pakistan, once known for his unyielding spirit and fierce determination, now shows signs of strain. Imprisoned and facing numerous charges, Khan appears to be a shadow of the leader who once inspired millions.

Khan’s recent meeting with journalists revealed a man who is a shell of his former self. Once confident and commanding, his body now shows a sense of unease and agitation. Those who met him describe a waning spirit, a stark change for a leader once known for his steadfastness in adversity.

The journalists described Khan as a man who is aware that his political party, Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI), is losing its once-iron grip on the nation’s imagination―a realisation that visibly shook him.

The PTI, once a magnet for massive crowds and inspired loyalty among its supporters, is now struggling. The much-hyped rally scheduled for August 22 in Islamabad, was embarrassingly cancelled due to a lack of public interest. Khan, in a bid to save face, claimed that the rally was called off to avoid potential violence. In a sign of growing desperation, Khan rescheduled the rally for September 8 and directed his party leaders to overcome any obstacles. This defiant stance is typical of Khan’s confrontational style, and his public directives highlight his insecurity about his party’s ability to mobilise support.

While Khan outwardly appears calm and composed, the multiple cases against him and his time in jail have left him isolated and struggling with loneliness. Even in this difficult situation, he remains in the headlines, thanks to his uncanny ability to stay in the public’s eye. Khan recently made headlines by applying for the University of Oxford Chancellorship, a move initially dismissed as a rumor but confirmed by his spokesman, Sayed Zulfikar Bukhari. As an Oxford alumnus, Khan would be the first Asian to take the role. Many see this bid as a strategic play to leverage his international profile against Pakistan’s establishment, a move that has kept him prominently in the media spotlight.

The political landscape in Pakistan is deeply divided. Prime Minister Shahbaz Sharif, in his second term, has failed to address critical issues including unemployment, soaring inflation, and deteriorating law and order. His administration’s inability to deliver on its promises has only deepened the public’s disillusionment, leading to growing nostalgia for Khan’s past leadership.

Shahbaz Sharif’s government is a source of frustration for the Pakistani people and a cause for concern for the country’s military. Historically, the military has shaped Pakistan’s political trajectory, stepping in when civilian governments falter. The military reportedly is growing uneasy about the government’s performance especially Sharif’s inability to stabilize the country and mend relationships with key neighbors, particularly India. Additionally, its deteriorating ties with Afghanistan and Iran have left Pakistan increasingly isolated. Even China, Pakistan’s longstanding ally, has expressed dissatisfaction with the government’s policies, a worrying sign given the importance of the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) to the country’s economic future.

It is within this context of political turmoil and international isolation that Imran Khan remains a potent force. Despite his legal troubles and the challenges facing his party, Khan’s popularity endures. For millions of Pakistanis, his tenure as Prime Minister is seen as a time of relative stability and hope, a stark contrast to the current administration’s ineptitude. This perception has kept Khan’s political base intact, even as his party faces an uphill battle in the coming months.

However, Khan’s ability to navigate the current political landscape is far from guaranteed. The PTI’s diminishing support, coupled with the increasing pressure from the establishment, raises questions about Khan’s long-term strategy. His recent moves, including the application for the Oxford Chancellorship, suggest a leader willing to explore unconventional avenues to maintain his relevance. But whether these tactics will translate into a successful political comeback remains to be seen.

Pakistan’s political future is more uncertain than ever. Imran Khan’s journey from cricketing legend to political maverick has been extraordinary. Still, as he faces the toughest challenge of his career, the question remains: Can he once again defy the odds and reclaim his place at the helm of Pakistani politics, or is this the beginning of the end for a once unstoppable leader?

Khan’s story is a testament to the complexities of power and the unpredictable nature of political life in Pakistan. His rise, driven by charisma, populism, and a genuine desire for change, now faces the realities of personal and political challenges, raising the possibility that his time may be running out.

Imran Khan is a beacon of hope for his supporters, and a polarizing figure for detractors, whose ambitions have often clouded his judgment. As the nation watches, the world is left to wonder: What will Imran Khan’s next move be? And more importantly, what does it mean for the future of Pakistan? The coming months will be critical not only for Imran Khan but for Pakistan as a whole. The decisions made during this period will shape the country’s trajectory for years. Whether Khan emerges victorious or is consigned to the annals of history as a fallen leader, one thing is certain: The story of Imran Khan is far from over.

(The writer is a senior jounalist based in Islamabad. Views personal)

Comments


bottom of page