Belgaum Betrayed

Few disputes in India simmer with as much historical grievance as the decades-old row between Maharashtra and Karnataka over Belgaum. The latest spark in this fraught battle was a seemingly minor argument between a Karnataka State Road Transport Corporation (KSRTC) bus conductor and two students over language that led to violence and snowballed into tit-for-tat vandalism and suspension of bus services between the two states.

At the heart of the dispute lies the question of rightful ownership. Maharashtra’s claim over Belgaum is rooted in a clear historical and linguistic logic. The district was part of the Bombay Presidency before Independence, and a significant Marathi-speaking population has lived there for centuries. When the States Reorganisation Act of 1956 redrew India’s internal borders along linguistic lines, Belgaum was inexplicably handed to Karnataka. This decision, contested from the start, was solidified by the Mahajan Commission in 1967, which awarded Belgaum to Karnataka despite acknowledging that many of its villages had a Marathi-speaking majority. Maharashtra rejected the findings outright.

Karnataka, for its part, has been unyielding. It has doubled down on its claim, bolstering its administrative and political presence in Belgaum by holding winter legislative sessions there and constructing a grand Secretariat modelled on Bengaluru’s Vidhana Soudha. These are unmistakable assertions of territorial dominance. Karnataka has also argued that if the Mahajan Commission’s recommendations are to be ignored, then Maharashtra should be prepared to cede parts of Kolhapur, Sangli and Sholapur where Kannada speakers reside.

The reality on the ground remains clear: Marathi-speaking communities in Belgaum continue to feel alienated. Maharashtra’s demand for a realignment of borders under Article 21(2)(b) of the States Reorganisation Act remains unresolved, despite repeated pleas to the Union government. This paralysis has had predictable consequences. The latest episode serves as a reminder that these tensions can be ignited at any moment.

In Maharashtra, raising the issue has been an easy way for leaders to rally Marathi sentiment. In Karnataka, defending Belgaum is seen as a matter of Kannada pride. The dispute has also found cultural echoes in literary events where Marathi and Kannada writers make rival claims.

Beyond the politics, it is the people of Belgaum who suffer by facing institutional discrimination, language barriers in governance and the ever-present risk of their city becoming a battleground for state-level politics. The economic transformation of Belgaum in recent decades has not erased these deeper anxieties. While urban areas have seen demographic shifts, the surrounding regions remain heavily Marathi-speaking. For Maharashtra, the question is one of unfinished justice. The only resolution that can truly settle the matter is a return to the principle on which state borders were redrawn in the first place: linguistic identity. If that principle is upheld, Belgaum should belong to Maharashtra. Until then, the dispute will continue to fester, a wound neither state can ignore.