Renowned cultural anthropologist Prof Arjun Appadurai, who formerly taught at the University of Chicago, weighs in on two burning debates—actor Kamal Haasan’s recent statement on the Tamil-Kannada linguistic connection, and the controversy over the delay in publishing the Keeladi archaeological excavation report. In this incisive conversation with The Federal‘s Pramila Krishnan, Appadurai explains why language politics must be approached with scholarly nuance and why Tamil Nadu’s unique archaeological and literary legacy must be handled with care.
Was Kamal Haasan wrong in saying Tamil is the mother of Kannada?
From a scholarly point of view, that statement is only 50 per cent accurate. Tamil, Malayalam, Telugu, and Kannada all belong to the Dravidian language family. But it’s wrong to say Tamil is the source of Kannada. Kannada has evolved as a distinct language and includes a significant amount of Sanskrit vocabulary and structure. So it’s not accurate to call Tamil the “mother.”
So Kannada is a blend of Dravidian and Sanskrit elements?
Correct. Sanskrit plays a major role in Kannada’s evolution. It’s important to understand that Sanskrit and Dravidian languages are distinct families, and Kannada reflects elements of both.
Given that Kamal Haasan is not a linguist, should he be asked to apologise for such a statement?
I don’t think so. He made an inaccurate statement, not an insulting one. He clarified his intent, and he’s someone who has deep ties with Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, and Kerala. He’s more a child of the whole Dravidian world. Rather than asking for an apology, a correction should suffice. The spirit of his message wasn’t meant to hurt anyone.
But in Karnataka, language and identity issues often become politically charged. Is criticism of Kamal Haasan justified in this context?
It’s true that issues like these can quickly become heated in Karnataka, especially with past incidents like the Kaveri dispute or Rajinikanth’s comments. But here too, a correction—not outrage—is more appropriate. Kamal should perhaps just state clearly that he wasn’t speaking as a linguist, but from a cultural standpoint.
Let’s move to the second issue: the delay in publishing the Keeladi excavation report. ASI says there’s no hidden agenda. What’s your take?
It’s hard to say definitively without knowing exactly what corrections were asked for. But in principle, peer feedback on such reports is normal. That said, the key difference is that in global academic practice, final decisions on archaeological reports are made by academic institutions—not by the state. Here, the government has the last word, which raises concern.
The excavator said the corrections demanded would alter the conclusion of the report. How do you view that?
That’s a serious issue. The moment you alter a conclusion based on political pressure, it undermines the scholarly process. If the corrections are purely academic, they’re justified. But if they’re politically motivated, that’s problematic. We don’t know which one it is in this case, so it’s hard to judge.
How should Tamil Nadu handle this, especially given its rich historical and literary tradition?
Tamil Nadu is uniquely positioned. Unlike Harappa, Tamil Nadu has not just archaeology but also Sangam literature—an extraordinarily rich textual record. Together, they create a unique archive of South Indian urban civilisation. That’s why the Keeladi findings must be handled with scholarly rigour and transparency.
How are such issues handled globally—especially correction requests on excavation reports?
In most developed countries, such reports are peer-reviewed and read by a small circle—scholars, researchers and archivists. They don’t typically enter public discourse. In Tamil Nadu, the public stakes are higher, and the findings from Keeladi could redefine how we view ancient Indian civilisation.
Is that why Keeladi has sparked so much public interest in Tamil Nadu?
Absolutely. The people of Tamil Nadu are deeply invested in their history and heritage. Across India, ancient history has become tied to identity and politics—north vs south, Tamil vs Hindi, Dravidian vs Aryan. The Keeladi report sits at the centre of this vortex.
Do you see this trend—of politicising ancient history—elsewhere too?
To some extent, yes. But in India, every archaeological discovery now feeds into political discourse. Questions like “Who lived here?”, “Whose civilisation is older?”, “Who has a rightful claim?” become fodder for litigation and identity struggles. This is a unique feature of Indian public life today.
Final thoughts on the importance of Keeladi?
This is not just about Tamil Nadu. The findings—if released properly—would be of immense interest to scholars around the world. Keeladi’s combination of material and literary evidence could reshape how we view urbanisation and civilisation in South Asia. It must be published—soon, and in full.
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