The story of Konkani, a language spoken across Goa, Karnataka, Maharashtra, and Kerala, is often celebrated as a marker of cultural identity. Yet, its modern form—standardized, scripted, and codified—is less a timeless essence and more a product of colonial interventions and post-colonial aspirations. We might say what already a kind of resistance to colonial imperialism and assimilation European missionaries in Goa, particularly from the 16th century onward, sought to unify the plural, rhizomatic Konkani dialects into a singular linguistic entity. It also resonated with the ideas of cultural. Nationalism of J. Godfriet Herders . This process, epitomized by figures like Joaquim Heliodoro da Cunha Rivara in the 19th century, not only standardized Konkani but also entrenched a scripto-centric bias—where one script, often Roman or Devanagari, became synonymous with “authentic” Konkani. In a Foucauldian sense, just as “man” is a recent invention shaped by historical discourses, Konkani as we know it today is a constructed artifact, born of colonial frameworks and perpetuated by a colonized mindset that insists on linguistic and scriptural unity.
The Colonial Construction of Konkani
Konkani’s history is one of fluidity and diversity. Before colonial intervention, it existed as a constellation of dialects spoken by Hindu, Christian, and Muslim communities across the Konkan coast, written in multiple scripts—Devanagari, Kannada, Perso-Arabic, and even Malayalam—depending on region and community. These dialects were not bound by a singular grammar or orthography; they thrived in oral traditions and localized written forms. However, the arrival of Portuguese missionaries in Goa in the 16th century marked a turning point. Driven by the need to evangelize, missionaries like Thomas Stephens sought to codify Konkani to produce religious texts, such as catechisms and grammars, primarily in the Roman script. It was the Brahmins of Margao and surroundings that assisted Stevens to put Konkani in Roman Script. This was not merely a linguistic exercise but a political one that resisted erasure of language and culture through imperial colonial policy which later seemed to align with notion one nation one language of Herders and adds one script in our times thinking as a unified language could forge a cohesive identity.
Joaquim Heliodoro da Cunha Rivara, a 19th-century Portuguese administrator and scholar, played a pivotal role in this process. His Ensaio Histórico da Língua Concani (1858) was a landmark attempt to standardize Konkani, emphasizing its grammatical structure and advocating for its use in education and administration. Cunha Rivara’s work, while celebrating Konkani’s cultural significance, privileged the Roman script and the Salcete dialect, effectively marginalizing other dialects and scripts. This act of singularization—reducing Konkani’s plural heritage to a standardized form—mirrored colonial strategies of control, where diversity was subordinated to a unified, manageable narrative.
The Foucauldian Lens: Konkani as a Recent Invention
Michel Foucault’s concept of “man” as a recent invention, articulated in The Order of Things, provides a powerful framework for understanding Konkani’s modern form. For Foucault, “man” is not a universal essence but a construct shaped by historical discourses—epistemes that define what is thinkable at a given time. Similarly, Konkani as a standardized language is not an ancient, organic entity but a product of colonial and post-colonial discourses. The missionaries’ efforts, followed by Cunha Rivara’s scholarly interventions, created a Konkani that was legible to colonial administration and missionary objectives. This constructed Konkani, tied to specific scripts and dialects, became the “official” language, sidelining its plural, rhizomatic roots. With invention of the Konkani , Konkanis died .
This invention of Konkani parallels Foucault’s idea of knowledge as power. By codifying Konkani in the Roman script, missionaries exercised control over its representation, determining which forms were legitimate and which were not. Post-colonial efforts, particularly in Goa, continued this legacy. The push for Devanagari as the official script after Goa’s liberation in 1961, culminating in Konkani’s recognition as the state’s official language in 1987, was framed as a reclaiming of cultural identity. Yet, it perpetuated the colonial logic of standardization, privileging one script over others and reinforcing a scripto-centric view that equates written Konkani—particularly in Devanagari—with authenticity.
Scripto-Centricity as a Colonial Hangover
The scripto-centricity of Konkani—the belief that it must be tied to a single script, whether Roman or Devanagari—is a direct legacy of colonial interventions. This mindset dismisses the language’s historical plurality, where multiple scripts and oral traditions coexisted. The Roman script, used by Christian communities, and Devanagari, favored by Hindu communities, have become battlegrounds in a cultural and political struggle over Konkani’s identity. This struggle reflects a colonized mindset, internalized through centuries of external imposition, that insists on a singular, standardized Konkani as a marker of legitimacy.
The colonial hangover is evident in contemporary debates over Konkani’s script. Proponents of Devanagari argue it connects Konkani to its “Indian” roots, while Roman script advocates emphasize its historical use in Goa’s Christian communities. Both sides, however, operate within the colonial framework of scripto-centricity, assuming that Konkani must be defined by one script to be valid. This erases the language’s pre-colonial diversity, where scripts were tools of expression, not markers of exclusivity. The insistence on a singular Konkani, whether in Devanagari or Roman script, perpetuates the missionary impulse to control and unify, blinding us to the language’s rhizomatic essence.
Decolonizing Konkani: Embracing Plurality
To move beyond this colonial legacy, we must rethink Konkani’s identity. A Foucauldian approach calls for questioning the discourses that have shaped Konkani as a singular entity. This means recognizing its plural dialects and scripts—not as competing claims to authenticity but as equal expressions of a shared linguistic heritage. Initiatives like the inclusion of multiple scripts in Konkani education or literature could challenge the scripto-centric bias. For instance, acknowledging the Kannada or Malayalam scripts used by Konkani speakers in Karnataka and Kerala, alongside Roman and Devanagari, could revive the language’s pre-colonial fluidity.
Moreover, we must confront the internalized colonization that equates standardization with legitimacy. Konkani’s strength lies in its diversity—its ability to adapt across communities, regions, and histories. By embracing this plurality, we can resist the colonial urge to singularize and control, allowing Konkani to thrive as a living, evolving language.
Conclusion
The scripto-centricity of Konkani, rooted in colonial interventions by missionaries and scholars like Cunha Rivara, reveals the language as a recent invention, much like Foucault’s “man.” The standardization of Konkani, today driven by Herderian ideals of linguistic unity, suppresses its plural, rhizomatic nature, imposing a singular form that persists in modern debates over script and identity has its roots in the colonial past. This colonial hangover continues to shape how we perceive Konkani, tethering it to one script at the expense of its diversity. To decolonize Konkani, we must reject the notion of a singular language and embrace its multiplicity, recognizing that its true essence lies not in uniformity but in its vibrant, plural heritage.
