Bengaluru: 'We want our city back!'

By Sudha Ramachandran

BANGALORE - Mob violence after the death of Kannada film star Rajkumar in Bangalore last week left eight people dead and property valued at millions of US dollars destroyed. The explosion of bloody despair on the streets of Bangalore took many by surprise, shattering its image as a largely peaceful city, an ideal destination for investment and India's "Silicon Valley".

Even as news of Rajkumar's death trickled in, tens of thousands of his fans rushed to his residence to pay their last respects. Within hours of his death, "grieving fans" went on a rampage, torching buses and cars, pelting shops and offices with stones. By evening, the streets of Bangalore were deserted as terrified residents rushed home for safety. On April 14, the day of the funeral, the situation worsened as mobs beat up the vastly outnumbered police, killing one officer.

According to T V Mohandas Pai, chief financial officer of Infosys Technologies, the violence could end up costing Bangalore about US$160 million, with software firms losing $40 million in revenue. Nine buses were burned and 256 damaged. More than 650 private vehicles too were damaged. Even as Bangalore limps back to normalcy the blame game is on, with the government pointing to sinister forces behind the violence, and the opposition parties blaming the administration for not anticipating and acting to prevent the violence.

Violence was expected in the event of the film star's death, and he had been ailing for a while. The Rajkumar Fans Association, which is controlled by Rajkumar's family - his brother-in-law is its president - has resorted to violence several times, often to pressure the government. In 2000, when the actor was kidnapped by forest brigand Veerappan, a Tamil, his fans went on a rampage against Tamils living in Bangalore. It is said that the government, under pressure from the actor's family and fans, paid a hefty ransom to secure his release. The fans therefore were not novices in unleashing violence.

While fans might have been driven to rioting because of grief and poor funeral arrangements for their hero - southern Indian fans are known for their adulation of film stars; some have even torched themselves on the death of their heroes - there are other more complex issues at work behind last week's violence.

Rajkumar was not just a popular actor; he was a cultural icon, a person who was regarded as a champion of the Kannada language and culture and of the interests of Kannadigas (the local population). His death became an excuse for some Kannadigas to vent their long-simmering anger and frustration. The mobs were more than fans of the actor and his films. They were also loyal supporters of the cause he espoused - the Kannada cause.

Although Bangalore is the capital of a Kannada-speaking state, speakers of that Dravidian tongue constitute just 35% of the city's population. For many years, Kannada speakers have felt swamped by "outsiders", mainly Tamils from neighboring Tamil Nadu. In the past, Kannadigas have vented their resentments through anti-Tamil mob violence. And now with the information-technology (IT) boom attracting brains and talent to Bangalore from across the country, the feeling of being swamped by outsiders has grown to include Bengalis, Gujaratis, Punjabis and other linguistic groups from the rest of the country.

Kannadigas feel that Kannada identity is being diluted with the influx of outsiders, that Kannada culture is declining because other cultures are gaining ground here. The Kannada film industry has been in the doldrums as most youngsters prefer watching Bollywood movies. What has deepened the sense of insecurity among Kannadigas is that economically too they are on the sidelines, having to watch the outsiders prosper the most from Bangalore's economic boom. Noted playwright Girish Karnad has said, "Bangalore is burgeoning, and its economy is booming. But the locals are not benefiting from it. They are feeling cornered in their own capital."

Bangalore is a city divided culturally and economically, with the locals feeling marginalized on both counts. Kannada activists insist that most of those who have prospered from the IT boom are not locals; indeed, they argue that it is outsiders, not locals, who form the bulk of employees in the IT sector. They have been demanding quotas for "sons of the soil" in IT companies, a demand that the latter have turned down.

The divide is largely between employees of the tech industry and everyone else. It is between the affluent and the less privileged. And this more or less coincides with the outsider-local divide. It is reflected in starkly different spending capacities and lifestyles as well. Bangalore's techies receive fat paychecks; headhunters dangle fancy job offers. They live in swanky apartments, unwind in pubs and nightclubs and vacation in Europe. They talk different and live different.

The rest of Bangalore doesn't have prospective employers lining up with better job offers; many people simply don't have jobs. What has fueled their anger is that not only are they not beneficiaries of the IT boom, they are in fact suffering because of it. The number of cars on Bangalore's roads has skyrocketed, putting unbearable pressure on the city's crumbling infrastructure, and rents have shot up dramatically. The cost of living in Bangalore is beyond most Bangaloreans.

Local discontent is being articulated in different ways. There is a noticeable assertion in Kannada identity. Activists resent English or other languages being used in public meetings. More Kannada flags are visible in the city. Advertising billboards in English are routinely tarred by activists. The line between Kannada pride and chauvinism seems to be blurring. A "Bangalore for Kannadigas" movement is gathering momentum. Agni Shridhar, who founded the Karunada Sene, a pro-Kannada activist group that was inaugurated by Rajkumar, observes that Bangalore hardly looks like a Kannada city. "We want our city back," he said.

Increasingly the Kannada movement is merging with the anti-globalism, anti-multinationals campaign. Kannada activists protested against Bangalore Habba, an annual cultural festival, in 2004. They accused the organizers of showcasing "outside" talent and of not including enough local culture. They were furious that the invitations were in English and dismissed the event as an "MNC [multinational corporation] conspiracy".

"Multinationals sponsored the Habba [festival] only to build their brands. Imperialist forces are attacking us through cultural events," said Shridhar.

To appease Kannada activists, the Karnataka state government announced last year that Bangalore's name would be changed to Bengaluru, the way it is pronounced in Kannada (see Software and boiled beans, December 16, 2005). The announcement raised a storm. Many opposed the name change on the grounds that it was an attempt by the government to divert public attention from more pressing issues. Some opposed it as it detracted from "Brand Bangalore". Still others whined that "Bengaluru" didn't sound right; "it wasn't cool enough". Predictably, those in the last category were overwhelmingly English educated "outsiders" and from the more privileged sections.

There is concern in some quarters that the renaming of the city and its roads, the tarring of English signboards, and the restrictions imposed on non-Kannada films could become a movement against all "outsiders" and their culture, culminating, as it did in Mumbai years ago, in a demand for them to leave the city. Last week's violence cannot be dismissed as just grief or hooliganism. It should be seen as an early-warning signal.