Supreme Court verdict allowing Urdu signage reaffirms that India is a multilingual democracy

The Supreme Court on April 15 upheld the continued use of Urdu on a municipal signboard in Patur Municipal Council in Maharashtra’s Akola district.

The legal question before it Mrs Varshatai vs State of Maharashtra was narrow. But by ruling that the use of Urdu on the signboard was permissible, the court affirmed that multilingualism is not a disruption to governance but a reflection of how governance already works in many parts of India. It treats the presence of Urdu not as an exception to the official language regime, but as a continuation of it in a multilingual setting.

The Supreme Court’s decision in also draws attention to how language appears and disappears in public life, and how institutions either reflect or resist the multilingual realities of India.

The petitioner had argued that the Maharashtra Local Authorities (Official Languages) Act, 2022, required the exclusive use of Marathi. The court clarified that while the Act mandates the use of Marathi, it does not prohibit additional languages.

Urdu had been used on signage in Patur since 1956, reflecting longstanding administrative practice and the linguistic composition of the town.

Constitutional grounding, legal reasoning

The court based its reasoning on the Constitution’s language provisions. Article 345 permits states to adopt one or more languages for official purposes. Articles 350 and 350B protect the rights of linguistic minorities to communicate with the state in their language of use. These provisions reflect an expectation that governance in India will be multilingual, not monolingual.

The petitioner’s argument rested on the assumption that official status implies exclusivity. This reflects what scholars call language ideology – the belief that public order or national identity requires linguistic uniformity.

Such beliefs, while politically powerful, rarely reflect actual language practices in Indian cities and towns, where people regularly navigate more than one language in markets, homes, schools and offices.

The court rejected this narrow interpretation. It recognised that the use of Urdu in Patur’s signage was part of a settled administrative routine, shaped by demographic needs and institutional continuity. The presence of Urdu did not interfere with the status of Marathi; it coexisted with it in a pragmatic arrangement that had worked for decades.

Visibility, public recognition

Language in public spaces does more than transmit information. It communicates who is acknowledged, recognised by the state and who is included in public life. This is what linguistic anthropologists describe through the concept of indexicality – the idea that language points to social meaning, presence and legitimacy.

When a language appears on official signage, it signals that the state acknowledges its speakers as participants in civic life.

Removing a language from such spaces can subtly shift this relationship. The court’s judgment affirms that multilingual signage, particularly in places like Patur, is not exceptional. It is part of how institutions function when they reflect the communities they serve.

Politics of official language

The court also made a brief but telling observation on how India’s postcolonial language policy was shaped by Partition. During the Constituent Assembly debates, Hindustani, a shared register drawing from both Hindi and Urdu, had strong support from figures like Gandhi and Nehru. It was widely used and understood, and seen as a natural bridge across linguistic communities.

However, following Pakistan’s adoption of Urdu as its national language, the debate in India shifted. Hindi and Urdu began to be framed as markers of national and religious identity. In that atmosphere, Hindustani lost political ground. As the court noted, “the ultimate victim was Hindustani”.

This decision had long-term consequences. India adopted Hindi in the Devanagari script as the official language of the Union under Article 343, but in doing so, it passed over a more widely intelligible and inclusive register. The exclusion of Hindustani reflects how language planning became tied to nation-building, and how shared, blended linguistic forms were sacrificed in favour of cleaner, more politicised categories.

The court’s mention of this history connects the present case to deeper patterns. It shows how decisions about language – whether in constitutional text or on a signboard are embedded in longer narratives about belonging, identity, and state legitimacy.

Linguistic citizenship, everyday access

The presence of Urdu on the Patur signboard also illustrates what scholars such as Christopher Stroud describe as linguistic citizenship – the ability to participate in public life through one’s own language. This is not just about rights on paper. It is about the routine ability to access services, understand communication, and be seen by public institutions.

In many parts of India, multilingual signage emerges organically from population needs. It is a way of making governance more legible. The Patur case shows that such practices do not require new policies or constitutional amendments. They can persist quietly through institutional memory, unless actively challenged.

The court’s decision affirms that linguistic visibility matters not only in national policy but in the ordinary spaces where people interact with the state. It reinforces the idea that inclusion is often built not through grand declarations, but through continued attention to local realities.

Politics of public language

This quiet affirmation of multilingualism contrasts with recent political efforts to reshape public space through language. In Uttar Pradesh, for example, Allahabad has been renamed Prayagraj, Faizabad became Ayodhya, and Mughal Sarai is now Pandit Deen Dayal Upadhyay Nagar. These changes, presented as administrative or cultural corrections, shift the symbolic landscape of cities. They elevate some linguistic and historical narratives while erasing others.

Renaming is not only about labels. It alters the language through which places are remembered and related to. It tells residents what kinds of identities are being recognised and which are no longer part of the official memory. Like language removal from signage, renaming can signal a narrowing of who belongs.

In this context, the continued presence of Urdu on a signboard affirmed not through protest but through institutional stability becomes all the more significant. It shows that public language can reflect complexity without controversy, and that multilingualism can remain part of the civic fabric through the quiet work of administration.

Affirming multilingualism

Beyond civic signage, language hierarchies are reinforced through education policy. The National Education Policy 2020 encourages instruction in the mother tongue and reiterates the three-language formula. Yet in practice, implementation prioritises English and Hindi, while languages like Urdu, Santali and Bodo receive limited institutional support.

When textbooks are unavailable, teachers untrained, or examinations conducted in unfamiliar scripts, the result is functional exclusion. Language rights remain abstract if they are not matched by infrastructural support.

In this environment, the presence of Urdu on a municipal signboard becomes more than symbolic. It is a reminder that language recognition is most meaningful when embedded in everyday governance. The Patur judgement affirms that such practices can be lawful, practical, and constitutionally sound.

By situating the legal dispute within both legal reasoning and historical awareness, the court offers a model for engaging with language diversity without falling into symbolic extremes. It shows that recognition can be pragmatic, that linguistic inclusion can emerge through ordinary means and that public language remains a key site where the relationship between state and citizen is negotiated.

John Simte is a lawyer. He has graduated from the National Law School, Bangalore.