Et Tu, Ravish?

On Language, Learning, and the Long Descent of Indian Democracy

“We do not need magic to change the world.
We carry all the power we need inside ourselves already:
we have the power to imagine better.”
— J.K. Rowling (Harvard Commencement Speech, 2008)

---

I. When the Last Voice Flickers

A Reflection on Language, Learning, and the Long Descent of Indian Education

In a recent episode of Faltu Baat on his Nai Sadak channel, Ravish Kumar dissected the politics of language with his usual blend of satire and sorrow. His target: the growing vilification of English in India’s public discourse, most notably Home Minister Amit Shah’s remark that “those who speak English will soon feel ashamed.” Ravish, with his signature restraint, didn’t just critique the statement—he exposed the deeper rot: a political culture that thrives on anti-intellectualism, linguistic insecurity, and manufactured cultural pride.

But as I watched, I couldn’t help but ask: Et tu, Ravish?

Not because he betrayed anything—but because even he, one of the last voices of reason, seemed weary of repeating what should be obvious. That education is not elitism. That language is not treason. That learning is not a luxury.

The Politics of Anti-Education: A Decade in Decline

Since 2014, India has witnessed a steady erosion of its educational ethos. While the National Education Policy (NEP) 2020 promised sweeping reforms—from early childhood care to research autonomy—its implementation has been marred by centralization, saffronization, and tokenism. The promise of critical thinking has been replaced by rote nationalism. The space for dissent has shrunk, and with it, the soul of inquiry.

Despite claims of progress, India’s press freedom ranking has plummeted to 161 out of 180 nations, and its universities—though numerically more visible in global rankings—struggle with autonomy, funding, and ideological interference.

Swiss Bank Deposits and the Shame That Wasn't

While the government boasts of eradicating black money, Swiss bank deposits by Indian entities tripled in 2024, reaching ₹37,600 crore. Only a fraction of this is in personal accounts; the rest flows through opaque institutional channels. And yet, the silence is deafening. No shame. No accountability. Just more slogans.

The Global Stage and the Local Farce

At the recent SCO summit, India found itself diplomatically isolated, its concerns over the Pahalgam terror attack omitted from the joint statement. Meanwhile, whispers of internal collusion—though unverified—have begun to circulate in international intelligence circles. And still, the ruling elite travels abroad, praising their own myths, while the world watches with growing skepticism.

Another Word

I’m learning Latin on Duolingo these days. It’s a beautiful language—structured, ancient, foundational. Much like Sanskrit is to Indian tongues. The word “tu” means “you” in Latin, French, Hindi, and Marathi. A small reminder that language connects more than it divides.

So when I say Et tu, Ravish?, it’s not a rebuke. It’s a lament. A call to those who still believe in the power of words, of learning, of truth. And a reminder that the real shame lies not in speaking English—but in silencing thought.

---

II. The Fall of the Thinking Class

“It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.”
— Jiddu Krishnamurti

How Anti-Intellectualism Became the Cornerstone of Power

Since 2014, India has not merely drifted—it has been dragged—away from its civilizational ethic of inquiry. Professors are shunted. Comedians booked under terrorism laws. Journalists surveilled or arrested.

Thinking itself has become criminalized.

The Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act, meant to catch terrorists, now haunts poets. Press freedom ranks 161 out of 180. Dissent is recast as danger. This isn’t decay. It is demolition.

The past decade has not merely seen a decline in democratic norms—it has witnessed a deliberate dismantling of India’s intellectual backbone. Writers, journalists, comedians, teachers, and professors have been systematically targeted, not for sedition or subversion, but for the simple act of thinking aloud.

From the raids on NewsClick and the arrest of its editor under draconian laws, to the vilification of comedians and student activists, the message is clear: dissent is not just discouraged—it is criminalized. The Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) has become a blunt instrument to silence those who dare to ask questions. Even international watchdogs have noted India’s plummet in press freedom rankings, now at 161 out of 180 countries.

This is not incidental. It is the logical outcome of a political culture that fears knowledge, that sees education not as empowerment but as a threat to control.

The Bihar Elections: A Litmus Test for Democracy

The Special Intensive Revision of electoral rolls in Bihar, just months before the state elections, has triggered alarm bells. Opposition leaders allege that the process is designed to disenfranchise Dalits, minorities, and the poor by demanding documentation they cannot easily produce. The Election Commission insists it’s a routine update, but the timing and opacity have led many to suspect a coordinated attempt to rig the electoral landscape.

This is why international observers are watching closely. The credibility of India’s electoral process—once a global benchmark—is now under scrutiny. And the deletion of voter data in Maharashtra, as raised by Rahul Gandhi, only deepens the suspicion that elections are being engineered, not earned.

Jay Shah and the Irony of Cronyism

And then there’s the spectacle of Jay Shah, son of Amit Shah, now Chairman of the ICC, speaking fluent English on global platforms while his father derides the language at home. The irony is not lost on anyone. Jay Shah has been trolled for his disproportionate presence in ICC promotional videos, with fans joking that the WTC Final was “Jay Shah vs. Jay Shah”.

But the real shame is not that he speaks English—it’s that he represents a system where merit is irrelevant, and proximity to power is everything. His critics argue that he knows little about cricket, yet presides over its global governance. This is not just cronyism—it’s the institutionalization of mediocrity.

---

III. Language as Weapon, Not Bridge

English is not being critiqued—it is being othered. Framed as alien. Framed as shame.

And yet, even those who decry it at rallies speak it fluently in Geneva. Consider Jay Shah, fluent and polished in ICC boardrooms while his father derides English in Parliament. This isn’t linguistic nationalism—it is elite gatekeeping disguised as cultural pride.

While moral slogans echo domestically, Indian entities deposited over ₹37,600 crore in Swiss banks in 2024—three times previous years. Black money is no longer demonized. It’s just... relocated.

At the SCO summit, when terror struck in Pahalgam, no one mentioned India’s pain. Not a word in the joint statement. The silence was surgical. Abroad, India smiles. At home, it simmers.

“The West has created a universal market for everything except the soul.”
— Rabindranath Tagore

We observe that these problems are actually holding a mirror to the inherent contradictions of the non-inclusive notions of development of the Euro-African west.

Mercantile Ethos vs. Educational Ethos

Historically, Gujarati and Sindhi communities—particularly the Lohana, Bhatia, and Bhaiband groups—have been deeply embedded in long-distance trade networks, from Hormuz to Malacca. Their success in commerce often came with a pragmatic, transactional worldview, which sometimes prioritized wealth accumulation over scholastic or philosophical pursuits. However, this doesn’t mean these communities lacked respect for learning—many Amils among Sindhi Hindus, for instance, were highly educated scribes and administrators.

That said, our critique targets a modern political manifestation of this ethos—where education is devalued in favor of populist spectacle, economic opportunism, and cultural insecurity. This is not a critique of a community per se, but of a political culture that has emerged from certain historical and economic patterns.

Modi as a Symbol of Anti-Intellectualism

Our argument positions Modi not just as a political figure, but as a symbol of a deeper civilizational inversion—where the worst instincts of mercantile pragmatism override the dharmic commitment to knowledge, truth, and ethical governance. This aligns with our broader philosophical concern: that India’s spiritual and intellectual traditions are being hollowed out by a regime that fetishizes power and wealth while scorning inquiry and dissent.

Geopolitical Feedback: Terror, Pakistan, and the Global Order

We also suggest that this internal decay is partly a reaction to international pressures, especially the West’s historical indulgence of Pakistan as a strategic counterweight to India. Indeed, Pakistan’s export of terror—now increasingly acknowledged by global bodies like FATF—has shaped India’s security posture and political rhetoric. But instead of responding with moral clarity and institutional strength, our critique implies that India has mirrored the very cynicism it once opposed, using fear and nationalism to consolidate power.

Cronyism with an Accent

Jay Shah’s rapid rise isn’t anomaly—it’s architecture. We no longer reward scholarship. We reward sonship.

Merit is mocked. Proximity is praised. Ravish Kumar now speaks from a webcam. His former peers echo others. Institutions that once questioned now comply. We are not a meritocracy. We are a court.

Ours is not a unique tragedy. We have simply become better at disguising it with slogans and spectacles. GDP and infrastructure now masquerade as moral legitimacy. Yet the soul of a nation resides not in flyovers—but in classrooms, auditoriums, and open microphones.

What we’ve lost is not just speech, but silence that once preceded speech—the mental space where meaning formed before it was said.

“Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high…
Into that heaven of freedom, let my country awake.”
— Rabindranath Tagore

---

🕯 Coda: The Now: Companion Dossier

“Realize deeply that the present moment is all you have.
Make the Now the primary focus of your life.”
— Eckhart Tolle

So this is the Now.

Ravish's camera is smaller. But his clarity remains. Students still mourn unnamed classmates. Rationalists still walk at dawn knowing someone may be waiting.

And yet, no regime—however cruel—can own the meaning of a sentence.

“No force can block the human desire for freedom.”
— Liu Xiaobo, Nobel Peace Laureate, who died in custody in 2017

Et Tu, Ravish? is not a farewell. It is a witness.
And we are not done yet.

For those who carry questions, names, or stories—there is more.

“Voices Under Fire” is the companion dossier to this reflection.
Where this essay speaks, that document remembers.

It chronicles suicides in elite institutions, profiles silenced public intellectuals, and invites others to step forward into the record. Together, they form a loop: elegy and evidence, voice and witness.

Read the dossier: Voices Under Fire – A Chronicle of Silenced Thought