NCERT and the politics of language in English textbooks

By Admin

05 May, 2025

In a move that has ignited a national conversation, the National Council of Educational Research and Training (NCERT) has stirred controversy by replacing the titles of English textbooks for Classes VI to VIII with Hindi names such as Poorvi, Mridang, and Santoor. What might appear on the surface as a simple change in nomenclature has, in fact, become a symbol of a deeper cultural and political assertion—one that brings to light the complex interplay between language, identity, and national ideology in India.

The choice of Poorvi—a Hindi word—for an English textbook is more than a creative flourish. It represents symbolic overreach and subtly signals a tilt toward Hindi supremacy, even within a subject that is inherently global. Government officials have defended the move, arguing that these names are not simply linguistic markers but cultural symbols rooted in India’s rich artistic traditions. Poorvi, they say, refers to a Hindustani raga evoking the eastern dawn, suggesting a poetic link to heritage and renewal.

Yet, this explanation falls flat when held against the claim that “there’s nothing in a name.” If names are inconsequential, why replace functional English titles like Honeysuckle with Hindi ones? The contradiction is telling. Would the same stakeholders support renaming a Sanskrit textbook as Harmony or a Hindi reader as Twinkle? Likely not. This selective application of principle betrays an underlying cultural bias.

Critics, especially from non-Hindi-speaking states, view this renaming as a step toward cultural homogenisation under the guise of unity. Kerala's Education Minister V Sivankutty called it a “violation of common logic”, stressing that English textbooks should bear English titles. Such decisions are not just about language—they carry psychological, practical, and symbolic consequences. For a student in rural Tamil Nadu or Mizoram, a title like Poorvi becomes an unfamiliar and alienating barrier, especially when Hindi is neither taught nor spoken locally. The Roman script does not bridge this divide; instead, it exposes it—risking mispronunciations, confusion, and disconnection.

While the revised textbooks attempt to decolonise education by replacing Western-centric content with more Indian stories and contexts, the method of doing so is fraught. The books aim to promote ecological sensitivity, gender equality, and cultural pride, while also developing vocabulary and grammar through sections like “Let us speak” and “Let us write.” The intent, aligned with the “Ek Bharat, Shreshtha Bharat” vision, is to nurture national unity through Indianised content.

But unity must not come at the cost of diversity. The change in textbook titles seems to indicate a larger agenda—one of centralised nationalism that privileges the cultural and linguistic identity of North India. This echoes majoritarianism in the garb of educational reform. English, a colonial language, now becomes a vessel for a new kind of indoctrination—not Western, but Indian in its nationalist slant. The irony of using English to assert Indian ethos while sidelining other Indian languages is hard to ignore. It inadvertently casts doubt on whether Hindi, Sanskrit, or Tamil can transmit these values on their own terms.

The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis reminds us that language shapes our worldview. English language teaching (ELT) cannot be divorced from its cultural origins, just as Hindi remains tied to the socio-cultural context of the Hindi belt. The NEP 2020 and its implementation through NCFSE 2023 ignore this linguistic reality. Rather than leveraging India’s multilingual heritage, the NCERT appears to be enforcing a uniform cultural narrative—one that excludes non-Hindu characters, erases diverse festivals, and marginalises regional artistry. A glance through the Poorvi textbook (Class 7, page 200) even reveals the National Flag printed upside down—a metaphorical inversion of the ideals it claims to uphold.

The danger here is not just symbolic—it is systemic. Language in India is more than a tool; it is identity, history, and pride. Token mentions of southern or eastern traditions cannot mask the overwhelming dominance of northern, Hindi-speaking culture in these materials. This perceived imposition breeds resentment among linguistic minorities, who feel their voices and realities are being drowned in a sea of politically-motivated “unity.”

The NCERT had an opportunity to reimagine ELT in India—by using language as a means to empower students, reflect social inequalities, and promote real inclusivity. Instead, the initiative has veered toward homogenisation. It risks replacing one form of indoctrination (colonial) with another (majoritarian), without delivering true educational liberation.

In essence, naming an English textbook Poorvi is not a harmless cultural tribute—it’s a political act. And when political acts are dressed as pedagogical reform, it’s the students who ultimately bear the cost.