Kerala to “Keralam”: A Footnote, Not A Milestone

The recent Union Cabinet approval of the proposal to rename Kerala as “Keralam” has generated a flurry of commentary, satire, approval and scepticism. It might seem a small matter, a single consonant added to a familiar English name, yet the political theatre surrounding this linguistic adjustment reveals much about the priorities of the current government, the state of our public discourse, and the gap between symbolic politics and substantive policy action.

The proposal to amend the Constitution’s First Schedule to replace “Kerala” with “Keralam” did not arise suddenly. The Kerala Legislative Assembly had earlier passed a resolution noting that the state has long been known as Keralam in Malayalam, and that the constitutional name should reflect this linguistic reality. The Cabinet’s approval simply advances that request under Article 3 of the Constitution, which requires the President to refer the Bill to the state assembly for its views before it is taken up by Parliament.

The constitutional process is clear, yet the timing, amid acute economic, fiscal and social pressures, warrants scrutiny. Kerala faces structural challenges: unemployment, strained public finances, the need for industrial job creation, and the difficult balance between welfare commitments and competitiveness. These are not abstract metrics but lived realities in a state that leads in human development while lagging in formal employment and investment. In that context, the renaming assumes a prominence that is difficult to defend in material terms.

This is not to dismiss linguistic or cultural identity as frivolous. Language lies at the heart of how communities imagine themselves and how those imaginations are inscribed in the larger constitutional narrative of the nation. Malayalam literature, from the Manipravalam tradition to the modernist experiments of O.N.V. Kurup and M. Govindan, is a testament to a self-conscious cultural ethos that has always seen Keralam as more than a geographical label. But names and identity are sustained by organic social usage and historical rootedness, not merely by executive fiat. The evolution of nomenclature is better nurtured in everyday life than imposed by decree.

It was precisely to underline this point that Dr Shashi Tharoor raised a wry but cogent question. He wondered aloud — what becomes of terms like “Keralite” or “Keralan” in the English language when the state’s English name itself morphs into Keralam? His point was not pedantry; it was about linguistic logic, cultural authenticity, and the peculiar obsessiveness of political symbolism when more substantive deliverables are conspicuously absent. Keralamite might sound like a jibe, and Keralamian a tongue-twister, but behind the joke lies a serious critique: identity is deeper than an administrative spelling change.

That critique aligns with a broader unease over the Centre’s priorities. This year’s Union Budget offered Kerala little in the way of transformative capital investment or structural support: no major institution such as an AIIMS, nor significant infrastructure allocations to address the state’s bottlenecks. What emerged instead was approval for a name change, a costless symbolic gesture.

Symbolism without parallel action can ring hollow when citizens confront coastal erosion, fiscal strain in local bodies, healthcare gaps, and the steady outflow of young talent. In comparison, an added “m” in English scarcely amounts to a tangible gain in human welfare.

Kerala’s demographic and labour profile underscores the larger policy context: it has one of the highest proportions of elderly citizens in India, reflecting an advanced stage of demographic transition. Periodic Labour Force Survey estimates have also shown relatively high unemployment rates in the state, particularly among educated youth. In parallel, successive Kerala Migration Surveys have documented the scale of outward migration and the significant role of remittances in sustaining household incomes. These structural features: ageing, educated joblessness, and migration dependence, pose long-term economic and fiscal challenges. Set against such realities, an orthographic adjustment in the state’s English name appears marginal to the deeper transformations required in employment generation and economic restructuring.

One might argue that this decision is in the spirit of cultural decolonisation, aligning the English name more closely with Malayalam pronunciation and script. That logic has traction when it forms part of a larger, coherent cultural and policy agenda. But in isolation, and amid a crowded agenda of unmet needs, it appears more like a political token. It is an effort the Union Government can present as responsive to linguistic identity, yet it costs little to claim and yields minimal substantive benefit to the people whose daily lives are marked by deficits in opportunity.

Name changes have historical precedence: Mumbai replaced Bombay, and Chennai superseded Madras. Yet those transitions were anchored in broad political movements and a sustained public campaign to foreground indigenous nomenclature. In Kerala’s case, however, everyday Malayalam usage has always favoured “Keralam,” irrespective of the Constitution’s English rendering. Classical and modern linguistic scholarship, including A.R. Rajaraja Varma’s Kerala Panineeyam, codified the term “Keralam” within the Malayalam grammatical tradition more than a century ago, underscoring that the linguistic identity of the region has never depended on its English spelling.

In that sense, the proposed change simply formalises what literature and speech have long settled, suggesting that the practical difference between “Kerala” and “Keralam” is narrower than the political energy invested in it. If the change merely aligns paperwork with everyday speech, it does not, by itself, create jobs, improve healthcare, enhance infrastructure, or strengthen fiscal sustainability; practical governance lies elsewhere.

Moreover, the emphasis on symbolic politics at a moment when fiscal choices are difficult and public funds are stretched raises a broader question for Indian democracy: should the political class harvest linguistic sentiment at the expense of urgent material concerns? Kerala, with its high levels of education and political consciousness, deserves leadership that places cultural recognition alongside robust delivery on core issues. Deep within the soul of the Malayali, pride and identity transcend grammar, spelling, and word arrangements.

In the end, if naming matters, it matters because it reflects who we are. But names evolve in the language of daily life, shaped by literature, dialogue, memory and practice. A cabinet decision may formalise a preference, but it does not define the lived realities of a community — those are shaped by investment in human capital, social justice, and policies that empower citizens to flourish. In that deeper sense, the addition of an “m” is a footnote, not a milestone.

Amal Chandra is an Indian author, political analyst and columnist. His research and commentary have appeared in leading scholarly and popular publications. He posts on ‘X’ at @ens_socialis.