Urdu: An Indian Language

Not a language of the 'other'

Cultures and languages are products of constant intermingling, movement, and migration. Humans from across the world have been interacting and trading with each other centuries before the term globalisation was coined in the 1900s. It is impossible — and rather pointless — to sift through history in search of an original, untouched heritage, because the truth is, such a thing likely never existed. Yet, in the times we live in, the Urdu language often finds itself caught in the crosshairs of this quest. Frivolously labelled the language of the invaders and that of Pakistan, Urdu frequently appears as a hot topic of discussion. Why this unfair tag? When I was growing up, Urdu and Hindi were never separate. They would flow seamlessly into each other — in movies, TV, and conversations at home.

There are a number of reasons why the language is often targeted. It’s associated with the Mughals, and anything related to them is often branded anti-India and as a part of the invader culture. Then there is the connection to Pakistan. After Partition, Urdu became Pakistan’s national language, leading to the view that Urdu is un-Indian. Furthermore, Urdu rests on Persian and Arabic for a good chunk of its vocabulary, which people allege adds to it Islamic origin, and therefore anti-Indian.

Urdu is a quintessential language of Bharat — let me tell you why.

Raghupati Sahay, who wrote under the pen name Firaq Gorakhpuri, was one of the most distinguished contemporary Urdu poets of India

A language is often considered to be foreign if it exhibits certain characteristics:

1. It originates outside the geographical, cultural, and historical context of the nation

2. It has no linguistic or cultural roots within the region

3. It is sustained by foreign rule and is not used by the population in daily life

4. It fails to influence local culture and identity

Urdu does not represent a single of these characteristics.

#1. Urdu originated organically in Northern India, particularly in and around Delhi, as a result of interactions between the local populace and the Persian influences present in the city due to the Delhi Sultanate and the Mughal Dynasty. It is something of a melting pot of a number of tongues like Persian, Arabic, and the native Sanskrit-Prakrit languages. In fact, Urdu’s grammar, syntax, and core vocabulary are largely derived from Khari Boli. It is unlike English in India, which did not evolve here. Nor is it like Persian in the Ottoman Empire, which was imported as an elite language. Javed Akhtar, in an oft-cited clip, says that Pakistan has imported Urdu as their national language from India.

#2. Urdu shares its grammar, syntax, and much of its vocabulary with Sanskrit-Prakrit languages. Its sentence structure is the same as Hindi, and its phonetics are naturally suited to Indian language patterns. The key difference between the two is that Hindi leans on Sanskrit for vocabulary, while Urdu leans more on Persian and Arabic. The two languages are often used interchangeably and share mutual intelligibility — you’ll often find people seamlessly switching between the two, and often without being aware of it. See how hilariously Javed Akhtar talks about this.

#3. Urdu has evolved as a language of the people and is spoken across social groups. Foreign languages usually enter via conquest and then survive only through patronage. This has not been the case with Urdu. While Persian was introduced as the official language by the Mughals, Urdu survives to this day and is spoken across the subcontinent. It is unlike Russian in Eastern Europe, which disappeared with the collapse of the USSR, and unlike French in Vietnam, which lost its role post their independence. Urdu was not and is not spoken by just one social group. It is not a language of solely the Muslims or confined to courtly circles — Hindus and Sikhs equally partake in it. In fact, a number of Sikh texts use Urdu words.

Ramayan in Urdu, published by the renowned Nawal Kishore Press, Lucknow and authored by Mehr Sultan Patialvi Sikandar

#4. Urdu has greatly shaped North Indian cultural expression. Poetry, films, music, and even day-to-day conversations are highly influenced by the language. Some of the most prolific writers of the country wrote in Urdu, such as Ghalib, Premchand, and Iqbal. Some of the most rousing nationalist slogans of the freedom struggle — Inquilab Zindabad and Tum Mujhe Khoon Do, Main Tumhe Azaadi Dunga — have been written in the language. It is impossible to think of Indian literature without thinking of Urdu.

Bhagat Singh’s last letter that he wrote in Urdu

So, the next time someone questions Urdu’s “Indianness,” ask them this: can a language that shaped our literature, inspired our freedom fighters, and lives on in our words and songs truly be called foreign? Urdu is not just a language of Bharat — it’s a language of its soul. To deny Urdu its rightful place as a language of the land amounts to discounting and discrediting centuries of cultural evolution. It’s like erasing a part of India’s collective history.

For a moment, even if for the sake of argument, let’s assume Urdu is a foreign language. Does that justify the hostility displayed towards those who speak it? India has always been a very plural land. It has always been a land of hostility, yes, but it has also been a place where coexistence is a way of life. Using language as a tool to divide an already broken society is something we’ve seen time and time again across the world. Urdu is interwoven into the fabric of Indian society, and no amount of misplaced blame can change that.

Even if a language has foreign roots, that does not strip it of its right to co-exist with others. English is a foreign language in every sense of the word, yet it is now an inseparable part of this country. Why the selective outrage against Urdu, when it rather has an older genesis? The answer does not lie in linguistics, but in prejudice.

Language is way beyond just words and grammar. It’s a lived experience. When we dismiss a language as “foreign” or “un-Indian,” we are not just rejecting words on a page — we are denying the lived experiences of countless individuals who hold that language close to their hearts. We are erasing poetry that comforted, slogans that inspired, and everyday conversations that shaped lives. Humanity and language cannot be divorced from each other, for to do so would be to strip people of their identity and belonging.

It is never about the language, always about the people.