Remembering Gandhi’s First Encounter with Banaras and his Unfated Cry for Hindi

Mahatma Gandhi’s life was a relentless pursuit of truth, freedom, and justice. His battles against colonial rule are well-documented, but few remember the war he fought for India's soul—the fight to elevate Hindi as the national language. This was not just a linguistic choice for him; it was a moral and emotional stand, one that defined his vision of a free India.

Through his journey, Gandhi saw language as more than words—it was identity, unity, and the voice of the common people. His struggle for Hindi was not against any other Indian language but against an elite class that sought to suppress the mother tongue of millions. It was a battle that cost him dearly, one that filled his eyes with tears and his heart with sorrow.

It was in the Congress sessions that Gandhi first felt the alienation of Hindi and the pain of the common Indian. Leaders gave fiery speeches, but in English—words that the masses could not understand. Gandhi’s heart bled at this sight. What was the meaning of independence if the very people for whom the struggle was being fought could not even understand the words spoken in its name?

One of the most emotional moments in Gandhi’s life came during a Congress session in 1918 in Indore. He took the stage, not as a political leader, but as a grieving son of Bharat. His voice trembled as he addressed the assembly:

"How can we call this nation independent when its people cannot even speak in their own language? Is it freedom if a farmer in a village cannot understand what laws are being made for him? Is it swaraj if the child of a weaver is forced to abandon his mother tongue for a foreign one?"

Silence fell over the gathering. Many leaders, educated in British institutions, looked away in discomfort. But Gandhi was relentless.

"Hindi is not just a language. It is the breath of our villages, the song of our rivers, the prayer of our temples. If we reject it, we do not reject a language—we reject India itself."

Tears welled up in his eyes. The room, filled with India’s brightest minds, sat in stunned realization. Gandhi was not merely making a political point; he was mourning the slow death of India’s linguistic soul.

In his autobiography, Gandhi wrote with deep sorrow:
"I felt alone in my fight for Hindi. I felt the pain of a mother whose child refuses to recognize her voice. But I knew in my heart, if Hindi dies, India’s soul will weep for eternity."

In February 1916, Banaras Hindu University was officially inaugurated with grandeur. The event was attended by some of the most influential figures of the time, including the Viceroy Lord Hardinge, Annie Besant, and a host of Indian princes, landlords, and leaders. Pandit Madan Mohan Malaviya, the visionary behind BHU, had successfully brought together both British officials and Indian elites for this historic moment. However, beneath the shimmering jewelry of the rajas and the crisp uniforms of British dignitaries, there lay an uncomfortable truth—India was still a fragmented nation, and true self-rule remained a distant dream.

Mahatma Gandhi, still relatively unknown in Indian political circles, had recently returned from South Africa after leading a successful campaign against racial discrimination. He was invited to speak at the event, but what the audience expected was a polite, ceremonial address. Instead, Gandhi delivered a speech that stunned the room into silence.

Gandhi stood before the audience, observing the extravagance around him—the glittering necklaces of Indian royalty, the military presence, and the British officials presiding over the event. As he began speaking, his words struck at the very foundation of this grand display.

He opened his address with sharp criticism of the Indian elite, questioning their commitment to true nationalism. He pointed out that while they spoke of swaraj (self-rule), they continued to live under the influence of the British, using their language, adopting their customs, and failing to connect with the masses. His words were not just a critique of colonial rule but also an attack on the complacency of the privileged Indians who were content with being subordinates in their own land.

“You are singing Vande Mataram,” he said, “but your actions betray your words. You talk of patriotism, yet you allow this land to remain enslaved. You wear silk while the poor wear rags. You speak in English while your people speak Hindi and Urdu. This is not nationalism; this is self-deception.”

One of the most striking aspects of Gandhi’s speech was his emphasis on Hindi as the language of the people. He was deeply troubled by the fact that in a university meant to serve Indian students, English remained the dominant medium of instruction and discourse. Gandhi believed that true nationalism could never be built on a foreign language.

“Why must we address our people in a language they do not understand?” he thundered. “Why must our leaders converse in English while the heart of India beats in Hindi? If we truly desire freedom, it must begin with the language we speak. A nation that does not respect its own tongue can never attain self-respect.”

This was not a popular stance at the time. The Indian elite, especially those educated under British influence, saw English as a language of progress. Many of them, including some present in the audience, looked down upon Hindi as the language of the uneducated masses. Gandhi’s blunt assertion that Hindi should be the national language was met with visible discomfort.

The reaction to Gandhi’s speech was immediate and intense. The hall fell into uneasy silence. Some in the audience were shocked, others angry. The British officials found his words seditious, while the Indian princes and landlords were offended by his attack on their luxurious lifestyles. Pandit Madan Mohan Malaviya, who had invited Gandhi, was himself unsettled.

Reports suggest that as Gandhi spoke, the microphone was deliberately turned off, and his voice was drowned in murmurs and whispers. The organizers had not expected such a scathing critique of the very people who funded the university. But the damage had already been done—Gandhi’s message had reached the hearts of many.

For the youth and reform-minded intellectuals in the audience, Gandhi’s speech was electrifying. It exposed the contradictions within the Indian nationalist movement—how could leaders demand freedom while still upholding feudal privileges? Gandhi had shattered the comfortable illusions of the ruling class.

This speech marked a turning point in Gandhi’s political career in India. It was one of the first instances where he directly confronted the contradictions within Indian society—challenging both British rule and the Indian elite’s reluctance to embrace real change. More importantly, it laid the foundation for his lifelong advocacy for Hindi as the language of national unity.

Gandhi’s advocacy for Hindi was not a rejection of other Indian languages but a call for a common language that could unite the diverse regions of the country. He believed that English, being foreign, kept Indians mentally and emotionally distant from their own people. To him, Hindi was not just a means of communication but a symbol of India’s self-reliance and cultural identity.

Throughout his life, Gandhi remained firm in his belief that Hindi should be the national language. He argued that while regional languages had their place, a nation as vast as India needed a unifying linguistic thread. Hindi, being spoken by a large section of the population, was the natural choice.

His vision was clear—an India where leaders addressed the people in their own language, where governance happened in a tongue understood by the masses, and where education was rooted in Indian linguistic traditions rather than colonial influences.

In one of his last speeches before his assassination, Gandhi lamented:
"If we reject Hindi, we do not reject a language—we reject the voice of our ancestors. We reject the prayers of our mothers. We reject the very essence of swaraj."

Gandhi’s first encounter with Banaras was more than just an event; it was a realization of the challenges ahead. The city, with its sacred ghats and ancient temples, was a microcosm of India’s broader struggles. It represented both the spiritual richness and the social stagnation that Gandhi sought to reform.

He observed how priests controlled religion as a business, how untouchability thrived in the alleys of this sacred land, and how the masses remained unaware of their rights. The contrast between the divine and the degraded was sharper in Banaras than anywhere else. This experience only strengthened Gandhi’s resolve—true Swaraj (self-rule) could not come without social and moral transformation.

Gandhi’s first encounter with Banaras and his fiery speech at BHU remain significant even today. His critique of the Indian elite, his call for genuine nationalism, and his unwavering support for Hindi are lessons that continue to hold relevance.

India has come a long way since that fateful day in 1916. Hindi has indeed become the official language, and its importance in national discourse has grown. Yet, the struggle between indigenous and foreign influences persists. English remains the dominant language in higher education, governance, and business. The debate over linguistic identity continues, echoing Gandhi’s concerns from more than a century ago.

As we remember Gandhi’s first speech in Banaras, we are reminded that true nationalism is not just about political independence but also cultural and linguistic self-respect. His words challenge us to reflect—are we truly free if our minds still think in a foreign language? Are we honoring our own heritage, or are we still entrapped in the colonial legacy that he sought to dismantle?

Gandhi’s speech at BHU was more than just an address—it was a battle cry. And that battle for linguistic and cultural pride is still being fought today.