It began with religion, right?
Now it’s language.
And if you’re listening carefully, you’ll hear not just the shouting on the streets, but a strange silence in the corridors of the old guard—the ones who first taught this nation how to divide.

Because this new wave? This isn’t their doing. It’s the doing of those who learnt from them.
Students of the original masters.
Pupils who watched how communities were split with precision—and thought, “Why stop at faith, when we can fracture even further?”

So now, it’s not about temple versus mosque. It’s about Tamil versus Hindi. Kannada versus Marathi. Bengali versus everyone else.
And while these linguistic firecrackers explode across the country, the original matchstick men are no longer gleeful.
They’re worried.
Because the chaos they once controlled… is now spinning out of their hands.

This wasn’t the plan.

They had imagined a nation divided neatly—lines drawn, loyalties sealed, and votes secured. But what’s unfolding now is an unravelling—not controlled demolition, but wild collapse. A free-for-all where every tongue is a sword, every dialect a battle cry.

And the worst part? These new players aren’t even pretending to unite. They’ve taken the shortcut straight to power—by slicing society thinner and thinner until nothing’s left to hold it together.

And who suffers? You. Me. All of us.

The common man, once confused about whom to pray with, is now wondering what language to speak in his own city.
A job applicant is told he’s not local enough.
A school child is bullied for speaking the ‘wrong’ tongue.
And a shopkeeper is slapped for not knowing the state language.

All this, while the real problems—poverty, unemployment, corruption—smirk, unnoticed and unaddressed.

Let’s not pretend this is about love for language. If it were, we’d have libraries instead of lathis. Poetry readings instead of protests. Translation drives instead of transport shutdowns.

This is about power, plain and simple.

Because dividing is easy.
Uniting takes vision. Effort. Patience.
And these new torchbearers of turmoil—bright-eyed and power-drunk—have none of those.

And the ones who first lit the fire? They’re watching now, realising with horror that this flame is no longer theirs to wield.
That what they started has become a forest fire, and they’re standing helpless with a leaking hose.

So what now? Do we let every tongue turn toxic?
Do we watch our beautiful, multilingual nation become a battlefield of syllables?

Or do we say enough?

Enough of leaders who build empires on our fractures.
Enough of fake pride that masks political greed.
Enough of choosing hate—first by religion, now by language.

Because if we don’t stop this now,
The next war won’t be over words.
It will be over what’s left—and there may not be much.

Let’s speak up. In every language. Before none of us are left to say anything at all…!

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