Cosmopolitanism has deep roots in Hyderabad. It was no happenstance that India’s first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, had called Hyderabad India’s “second capital” and Secunderabad’s Rashtrapathi Nilayam was made the summer home of the President of India. A few years ago Bengaluru tried to lay claim to the status of a second capital, but the growing linguistic chauvinism of this once cosmopolitan garden city has put paid to such claims.
It is, therefore, in the fitness of things that Telangana chief minister Revanth Reddy issued a message last week stating: “No matter which language you speak, what clothes you wear, who you live with, what you believe in, or the choices you make, Hyderabad welcomes you with open arms. Come to Hyderabad to work, to connect, to study, to invest, to explore, to grow, to settle, to do business, to thrive and to belong!”
Chief minister Reddy deserves full marks for issuing this statement. Though, to be sure, he is carrying forward a legacy that he has inherited. From the beginning of the twentieth century the Nizam’s regime recognised the value of inviting talent from across the country and took a liberal approach to providing employment to all those who came from distant lands. Post-Independence governments followed this tradition despite many challenges.
Of course, the process began even earlier when the rulers of erstwhile Hyderabad began hiring North Indian Kayasthas into their administration. The fact that the Hyderabad State encompassed Kannada-speaking northern Karnataka and Marathi-speaking Vidarbha meant that along with Urdu, the official language of the state, Telugu, Kannada and Marathi were spoken within the precincts of Old Hyderabad.
The British cantonment in Secunderabad attracted Tamil and Malayalam-speaking communities from the Madras Presidency and Punjabi speakers from the north.
Hyderabad’s economic prosperity attracted Rajasthani and Gujarati communities. Different localities became identified with different linguistic groups. Kannada and Marathi were heard more often in places like Kachiguda, Himayathnagar and on Tilak Road. Tamil in Jeera and Marredpally. There was more of Telugu with a coastal Andhra accent spoken in Nallakunta and Chikkadpalli, while Urdu and Dakhni — a mix of Urdu, Telugu and Marathi — would be heard all around the Old City.
It was, therefore, ironic that Hyderabad became the capital city of India’s first linguistic state, the erstwhile Andhra Pradesh. Yet, successive generations of political leadership and the city’s elite did not allow linguistic chauvinism to raise its head. True, many from the coastal region complained till the 1970s that one could not get around in Hyderabad without some knowledge of Dakhni and Hindi and knowing only Telugu did not help. However, over time the use of Telugu has become more widespread and, more importantly, most linguistic groups have become bilingual. Only the Urdu and Hindi speakers took a long time to become bilingual, but even they have learnt to speak, if not read and write, Telugu.
It is this historical and social evolution of Hyderabad that has made it cosmopolitan and prevented the kind of linguistic chauvinism that has come to take hold of so many states — from Tamil Nadu and Karnataka in the South to Maharashtra and Gujarat in the West, Bengal in the East and most of Hindi-speaking northern India. Even the nation’s capital has become increasingly mono-lingual, with Hindi dominating, after having passed through periods when the city was au fait with Urdu and Punjabi.
Linguistic cosmopolitanism alone is not the distinguishing feature of Hyderabad. It has also been able to accommodate with ease different religious groups and has been open to waves of what have been referred to in the past as “non-mulki” and “outsiders”. When Telangana separated itself from Andhra Pradesh, there was a move to conduct a population census to “weed out” outsiders. Earlier agitations for a separate Telangana were even referred to as “Mulki agitations”.
Telangana’s first chief minister K. Chandrasekhara Rao (KCR) sent a wave of panic among Greater Hyderabad’s Andhra community when he made provocative speeches against “outsiders”. However wiser counsel quickly prevailed over the leadership, thanks in large part to the foresightedness and liberalism of KCR’s son K.T. Rama Rao. Together, KCR and KTR chose to take forward the development priorities they inherited from predecessors like N. Chandrababu Naidu and Y.S. Rajasekhara Reddy.
During the Covid-19 lockdown, when thousands of migrant workers were laid off and distraught around the country and most state governments remained mute spectators of mass migration of the distressed working class returning home on foot, Telangana’s KCR went on television and urged “north Indian brothers” not to leave the city and assured that the state government would take care of them. Mr Revanth Reddy’s recent advertisement declaring that “Hyderabad Welcomes Everyone” takes forward this liberal approach to governance.
Indeed, it is this ingrained cosmopolitanism of Hyderabad that today sets it apart from Bengaluru and Chennai. The linguistic parochialism in Karnataka and Tamil Nadu is challenging the further development of Bengaluru and Chennai. In Mumbai, we see the resurgence of Marathi chauvinism and Gujarat has always been a one-language state even if its two most famous national leaders promote Hindi across India.
Mr Revanth Reddy’s recent poster welcoming all to Hyderabad goes far beyond language. It is perhaps the most liberal statement of inclusiveness issued by any political leader in recent times. Feel at ease in Hyderabad, it says, irrespective of what belief you hold, what faith you pursue, what dress you wear, what sexual orientation you have. As a Hyderabadi, I can vouch for this claim. Though, one must be aware, that threats to this syncretic culture lie barely under the surface.
Given the competition between Hyderabad and Bengaluru, the linguistic chauvinism of even the Congress Party in Karnataka, with chief minister Siddaramaiah admonishing non-Kannada business leaders for not learning the language, Hyderabad has the opportunity to once again regain its status as India’s second capital. And, unlike India’s first capital, it can grow as a truly cosmopolitan and liberal urban space.
What Hyderabad still needs are better roads, cleaner neighbourhoods, more green spaces, better traffic management and less noise pollution. The religious assertiveness of both Hindus and Muslims, with too many loudspeakers over far too many mosques and temples, and the blaring of horns and sirens atop vehicles of ministers and an assortment of self-important people have made Hyderabad far too noisy.
Sanjaya Baru is a writer and an economist. His most recent book is Secession of the Successful: The Flight Out of New India
