In the bustling branches of India’s banks, a new kind of intimidation is rearing its ugly head: harassment of employees over their inability to fluently speak the local language. In states like Karnataka and Maharashtra, where regional pride runs deep, this coercive push for linguistic conformity is not just misguided—it’s a direct attack on the spirit of India’s diverse, multilingual workforce. Bank employees, often transferred across states as part of their national service, are being targeted with threats, verbal abuse, and even physical violence for not mastering regional languages like Kannada or Marathi. This is not about cultural pride; it’s about bullying, and it’s time to call it out.
In Maharashtra, the Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS) has taken language policing to a shameful extreme. On April 3, 2025, MNS workers stormed a Bank of Maharashtra branch in Ambernath, intimidating the manager for not conversing in Marathi. A viral video captured them banging tables, shoving a computer monitor, and demanding immediate fluency, as if learning a language were as simple as flipping a switch. The manager, unfazed, pointed out that as part of an all-India service, he was permitted to use any constitutionally recognized language. His calm defiance only underscored the absurdity of the MNS’s strong-arm tactics. In another incident in Lonavala, MNS activists allegedly slapped a bank employee for defending the use of Hindi, claiming it didn’t hinder customer service. The Bank of Maharashtra Officers’ Association, fed up with these attacks, wrote to Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis on April 4, 2025, pleading for protection. They rightly argued that expecting every officer to learn every regional language in a transferable job is “impractical.”
Karnataka is no stranger to this linguistic vigilantism either. A video from September 6, 2024, showed a heated exchange at a bank in Kolar, where a customer confronted a manager for providing service slips only in Hindi and English, excluding Kannada. The manager’s insistence on Hindi—telling the customer to “speak Hindi or leave”—sparked outrage online, fueling the #StopHindiImposition hashtag. More recently, on May 21, 2025, another video surfaced from an SBI branch in Chandapura, Bengaluru, where the manager flat-out refused to speak Kannada, declaring, “I will never speak Kannada.” The customer, citing RBI guidelines mandating service in the local language, was met with defiance, escalating tensions. Karnataka Chief Minister Siddaramaiah condemned the incident, and SBI swiftly transferred the official, but the damage was done.
These incidents expose a deeper malaise: a toxic mix of regional chauvinism and unrealistic expectations. India’s banking sector operates under a national framework, with employees recruited and transferred across states. The Reserve Bank of India’s trilingual policy—encouraging the use of Hindi, English, and the regional language—exists to balance inclusivity with practicality. But for employees like those in Karnataka’s rural branches, where customers often speak only Kannada, or in Maharashtra, where Marathi is a point of political pride, the pressure to conform instantly is immense. A 2023 Reddit post from Bengaluru highlighted the plight of elderly and rural customers struggling with non-Kannada-speaking staff, noting that RBI rules require frontline staff to transact in the local language within six months of posting. Yet, the reality of frequent transfers makes this a tall order, and the backlash—often abusive—falls squarely on employees.
This harassment isn’t just unfair; it’s counterproductive. Bank staff are not linguists; they’re service providers. Expecting them to master a new language every few years ignores the realities of their profession. As the All India Bank Officers’ Confederation noted on April 15, 2025, such intimidation “undermines the spirit of India’s Tri-lingual Policy” and violates constitutional principles like freedom of speech. In one egregious case, a Marathi-speaking employee at Bank of Maharashtra’s Lonavala branch was manhandled for not meeting vague “linguistic expectations.” This isn’t advocacy for regional languages; it’s thuggery dressed up as cultural defense.
The irony is stark. In Maharashtra, MNS chief Raj Thackeray paused his party’s aggressive campaign on April 5, 2025, after pressure from the state government and bank unions, but not before warning banks to comply with Marathi usage or face renewed agitation. In Karnataka, pro-Kannada activists have echoed similar sentiments, often framing Hindi as an imposition. Yet, these crusades conveniently ignore that bank employees are not the enemy. They’re caught in a crossfire of political posturing and regional identity politics, where language becomes a weapon to score points rather than a tool for communication.
The solution isn’t to bully employees into submission but to address systemic gaps. Banks must invest in better training for staff to learn local languages over time, as mandated by RBI guidelines. Customers, especially in rural areas, deserve forms and services in their native tongue—something Union Finance Minister Nirmala Sitharaman has emphasized since 2022. But this requires institutional support, not mob justice. Governments and banks should collaborate to ensure compliance without resorting to coercion. And let’s be clear: physical assaults, like the slapping of an SBI employee in Maharashtra or the manhandling in Lonavala, are criminal acts, not cultural crusades.
India’s strength lies in its diversity, not in forcing conformity. Harassing bank employees for their language skills doesn’t elevate Kannada or Marathi; it diminishes the very communities these activists claim to champion. It’s time for cooler heads to prevail—before this linguistic zealotry erodes the trust in our banks and the unity of our nation.