Imagine standing at Mumbai’s bustling Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, where the air hums with Marathi, Hindi, Gujarati, and English, all blending like spices in a Maharashtrian curry. Now, picture a new rule: everyone in Maharashtra must learn Marathi, the state’s soulful language, as part of the New Education Policy (NEP). That’s the bold vision Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis announced on April 17, 2025, sparking a conversation as lively as a Ganpati festival. Is this a celebration of Maharashtra’s cultural heritage or a recipe for division? Let’s dive into the heart of this Marathi language mandate and unpack what it means for students, residents, and the state’s vibrant identity.
Marathi: More Than Just a Language
When Fadnavis spoke at the launch of Mumbai Metro Line 7A, he didn’t just talk policy—he tapped into Maharashtra’s pride. “Marathi is our heritage, our identity,” he said, emphasizing its role alongside Hindi and English in the NEP’s trilingual framework. For the 83 million Marathi speakers (that’s 9% of India’s population!), this language carries the legacy of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, the poetry of Tukaram, and the rhythm of Lavani folk songs. It’s the voice of Pune’s bustling markets and Kolhapur’s historic forts.
The NEP, rolled out in 2020, aims to make education more inclusive by prioritizing mother-tongue learning. In Maharashtra, this means Marathi takes center stage in schools, from rural classrooms to Mumbai’s elite CBSE and ICSE boards. The state’s already started, with mandatory Marathi classes in place since 2024. But Fadnavis’s latest push goes further: he wants everyone—not just students—to embrace Marathi. “If you love your language, you respect others too,” he said, framing it as a unifying move.
Why the Mandate Matters
So, why make Marathi mandatory? For starters, it’s about cultural pride. Marathi isn’t just words—it’s a link to Maharashtra’s history, from the Maratha Empire to modern Marathi cinema. Teaching it ensures kids grow up knowing their roots, whether they’re in a Satara village or a Bandra high-rise.
The NEP backs this up with data: kids learn better when taught in their native language, especially in early years. In Maharashtra, where 70% of rural students speak Marathi as their first language, this could boost literacy and school retention. Plus, the policy promotes a trilingual model—Marathi, Hindi, and English—preparing students for India’s diversity and the global stage.
But it’s not just about education. Fadnavis’s mandate reflects a broader push to preserve regional identities in a globalizing world. Think of it like Karnataka’s love for Kannada or Tamil Nadu’s devotion to Tamil. Marathi, supporters argue, deserves the same spotlight.
The Cheers: Voices of Support
Walk through Pune’s Fergusson College, and you’ll hear students like Aarti Deshmukh buzzing with excitement. “Marathi connects us to our history,” she says. “Learning it makes me feel closer to my grandparents’ stories.” Educators agree. “It’s not about forcing a language; it’s about celebrating who we are,” says Sunita Patil, a Nagpur schoolteacher.
On X, the sentiment’s electric. One user posted, “Marathi mandate = Maharashtra pride! Time to honor our language.” Another wrote, “Fadnavis is right—Marathi unites us, no matter where you’re from.” The state’s even backing this with action, like the Marathi Bhasha Bhavan, a cultural hub to promote literature and arts (despite some funding delays).
The BJP, with allies like the RSS, sees Marathi as a pillar of cultural unity. Fadnavis himself clapped back at RSS leader Suresh ‘Bhaiyyaji’ Joshi, who suggested Mumbai residents might skip Marathi. “Everyone learns Marathi, no exceptions,” Fadnavis insisted, doubling down on inclusivity.
The Concerns: A Multicultural Puzzle
But not everyone’s cheering. Mumbai, India’s financial heartbeat, thrives on diversity—Gujarati traders, Hindi-speaking taxi drivers, Tamil techies. Forcing Marathi on all residents, critics argue, could feel like a cultural overreach. Shiv Sena (UBT) MP Sanjay Raut didn’t mince words: “Mumbai belongs to every Indian. This mandate risks alienating non-Marathi speakers.”
Practical hurdles loom too. “We’re short on Marathi teachers,” says Anil Sharma, a Thane CBSE principal. A 2024 state report confirms only 40% of rural schools are fully staffed for language instruction. Urban schools, juggling diverse student needs, worry about squeezing Marathi into packed curricula. And then there’s enforcement—how do you mandate a language for adults without sparking resentment?
Tensions aren’t new. The Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS) has long pushed Marathi supremacy, sometimes with aggression. Recent reports of MNS workers intimidating bank employees for not using Marathi raised eyebrows. Fadnavis condemned such tactics, saying, “Promote Marathi, but don’t break the law.” Still, the mandate walks a tightrope in a state where language can ignite passions.
What’s Next for Maharashtra?
The Marathi language mandate is ambitious, but it’s not without precedent. States like Singapore mandate bilingualism to balance identity and progress, and Maharashtra could follow suit. The government’s planning big: 10,000 new Marathi teachers by 2026, digital learning apps, and a revamped curriculum weaving in Marathi literature. If done right, this could spark a renaissance for Marathi arts, publishing, and even tourism (imagine Marathi-guided fort tours!).
But challenges remain. The state must invest in teacher training, create inclusive policies, and avoid heavy-handed enforcement. Mumbai’s cosmopolitan vibe—where Bollywood and bhakri coexist—needs nurturing, not division. As one X user put it, “Marathi should be a bridge, not a wall.”
The Bigger Picture
Fadnavis’s push is part of a national trend. From Tamil Nadu’s Tamil pride to Assam’s Assamese focus, India’s balancing regional identities with unity. The NEP’s trilingual model aims to thread this needle, ensuring kids grow up fluent in their roots, their nation, and the world. But in Maharashtra, home to India’s economic engine, the stakes are sky-high. Can Marathi become a unifier, or will it fuel cultural fault lines?
As I write this, I’m reminded of my friend Rohan, a Mumbai-born Gujarati who learned Marathi to chat with his neighbors. “It’s not about rules,” he says. “It’s about connection.” Maybe that’s the key—making Marathi a language of belonging, not obligat
Frequently Asked Questions About the Marathi Mandate
Q1. Why is Marathi mandatory in Maharashtra?
Answer: The mandate, part of the NEP, aims to preserve Maharashtra’s cultural heritage, improve education through mother-tongue learning, and promote unity via a trilingual model (Marathi, Hindi, English).
2. Who has to learn Marathi?
Fadnavis’s statement suggests all residents, but the policy currently focuses on students in primary and secondary schools, including CBSE/ICSE boards.
3. What are the challenges?
Teacher shortages, resource gaps, and potential alienation of non-Marathi speakers are key hurdles, especially in diverse cities like Mumbai.
4. How will the state implement this?
Plans include training 10,000 teachers, developing digital tools, and promoting Marathi through cultural initiatives like the Marathi Bhasha Bhavan.
5. Is this just politics?
While rooted in cultural pride, the mandate aligns with BJP’s regional identity push, sparking debates about inclusivity versus exclusivity.
Join the Conversation
So, what’s your take? Is the Marathi language mandate a step toward cultural pride or a risk to Maharashtra’s diversity? If you’re in Mumbai, Pune, or beyond, drop your thoughts in the comments—I’d love to hear how this hits home. And if you found this deep dive helpful, share it with a friend or on social media. Let’s keep the conversation alive!
