What's In An 'M'? The Empty Performance of Renaming Kerala

In the hallowed halls of the Union Cabinet, where one might imagine the nation's stewards are busy grappling with a stuttering global economy or the complexities of maritime security, a decision of earth-shattering insignificance has been reached. With the solemnity usually reserved for declaring war or devaluing currency, the Central government has graciously acceded to the State Government's request to change the name of Kerala to "Keralam".

At last, the people of the southwestern-most state can breathe a sigh of relief. Forget the mounting debt, the vanishing coastline, and the agonising wait for a premier medical institute; we finally have an extra consonant.

A Move That Costs Nothing

This is the politics of symbolism at its most vacant: a masterclass in the art of the otiose. It is a move that costs the Central government absolutely nothing, which is precisely why they were so happy to grant it. In the high-stakes bazaar of federalism, the State asked for bread and New Delhi gave them a suffix. And the State, eyes firmly fixed on the fast-approaching elections, is parading this "m" around like a trophy of decolonial liberation.

One must admire the sheer efficiency of the pandering. By rebranding the name of the state to mirror its Malayalam pronunciation, the political class is attempting to harvest local sentiment without the messy inconvenience of actually delivering on substantive demands. It is much easier to change a letterhead than it is to build an AIIMS. It is far simpler to debate phonetics than to address the existential threat of coastal erosion or the Byzantine delays in port development. While our fishermen lose their homes to the rising Arabian Sea, they can at least take comfort in knowing the waves are now crashing against the shores of "Keralam".

However, even as a linguistic exercise, the move is rooted in a certain historical amnesia. There is a prevailing, somewhat romanticised notion among the proponents of this change that "Keralam" is the "pure" or "original" name, rescued from the clutches of Anglophone corruption. But history, as it often does, refuses to cooperate with the slogans.

Live And Let Live? Perhaps Not

As the historical records show, the term "Kerala" actually predates "Keralam" by several centuries. We are, in effect, ditching a version of far greater antiquity in favor of an 11th-century formulation, simply because the latter feels more like authentic Malayalam. Both the State and Central governments have conspired to privilege linguistic parochialism over historical accuracy. If the goal was to return to our "roots", we've managed to trip over them and land in the wrong century. It would have been simplest to have gone on calling the state "Keralam" in Malayalam and "Kerala" in English, just as the Germans call their country "Deutschland" in their own language but accept Anglophones terming it "Germany", but this simple "live and let live" approach would have scored no political brownie points for anyone involved.

Then there is the practical headache for those of us who still navigate the world in English. Languages evolve through usage, not by cabinet decree, and the sudden insertion of "Keralam" into the Anglophone lexicon creates an aesthetic and phonetic nightmare. What, pray tell, are we to call the denizens of this newly christened entity?

I posed this question recently to the digital ether, and the results were predictably absurd. Does a "Keralite" now become a "Keralamite"? To my ear, that sounds less like a proud citizen and more like a particularly resilient strain of intestinal microbe. Or perhaps we shall be "Keralamians"? It has a certain ring to it, I suppose, if you happen to be a rare earth mineral found in the periodic table between Neodymium and Promethium. Perhaps the Chief Minister's Office should launch a statewide competition to find a term that doesn't sound like it belongs in a pathology lab or a geology textbook. This is the "electoral zeal" of the linguistic purist: solving problems that didn't exist by creating new ones that shouldn't.

How Not To Use The Taxpayer's Money

When I raised these points on social media, I was met with the usual refrains of identity politics. One Communist MP urged me to drop my objections, loftily proclaiming that "identity isn't a spelling test".

It was a clever line, but it missed the obvious riposte: If identity isn't a spelling test, then why on earth are we changing the spelling of the state?

If the soul of the Malayali is so robust that it transcends the mere arrangement of vowels and consonants on a map, then why waste the administrative machinery, the taxpayer's money, and the Cabinet's time on this cosmetic surgery? The truth is that for the political class, identity is indeed a spelling test - specifically, one they can pass without having to study the more difficult subjects of fiscal management or infrastructure.

Let us look at what is being ignored while we celebrate this linguistic triumph. Kerala's financial needs remain acute, with the state frequently locked in a grim tug-of-war with the Centre over borrowing limits and GST dues. Our health sector, though historically strong, desperately needs the specialised boost that a long-promised AIIMS would provide. Our development projects are often mired in the sludge of bureaucratic inertia.  

By acceding to the name change, the Centre gets to play the role of the indulgent elder brother, granting a harmless wish while keeping the purse strings tightly closed. They have, in the PM's words "honoured the sentiments of the people" without spending a single paisa on a relief package. It is a cynical transaction where symbols are traded for silence.

A Rare Consensus

There is a particular irony in seeing a Communist-led government in the state and a nationalist government at the Centre join hands in this endeavour. It is a rare moment of bipartisan consensus, fueled by the realisation that "Keralam" is a cheap date. It satisfies the sub-Nationalist urges of the Left to score a cheap quick win before the Assembly elections due in April, and the vernacular-first optics of the Right, anxious to demonstrate that it supports all Indian languages, not just Hindi. It is the perfect political placebo: it has no active ingredients, but it makes the patient feel he's better because something is being done.

In the end, we are left with a state that will be spelled differently but will face the same old problems. The 'm' at the end of Keralam will not stop the sea from encroaching, it will not fill the coffers of the state treasury, and it will not provide a bed in a super-specialty hospital.

So, long live linguistic parochialism! Let us celebrate our new name with all the pomp and ceremony it deserves. We may be "Keralamites" or "Keralamians" now, inhabiting a mineral-rich or microbe-adjacent future, but at least we can say we changed the map. It's just a pity we couldn't change the reality on the ground. But then again, in the modern political playbook, why bother with the substance when the symbol is so much easier to spell?

(Shashi Tharoor has been a Member of Parliament from Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala, since 2009. He is a published author and a former diplomat.)

Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author