Coorg - the lost state of India

The British provinces in India just before independence were primarily eleven in number: Bengal, Bombay, Madras, United Provinces, Punjab, Bihar, Central Provinces & Berar, Assam, North-West Frontier Province, Orissa, and Sindh. These were governed by British-appointed Governors, had their own legislatures, enjoyed a significant degree of autonomy, and were expansive and politically important. Alongside them were smaller provinces, often of strategic value, governed by Chief Commissioners appointed by the Governor-General of India. These provinces had no legislatures or very limited legislative power and enjoyed little to no autonomy. Delhi, Ajmer-Merwara, Coorg, British Baluchistan, and the Andaman & Nicobar Islands belonged to this category.

Among these, Coorg—or Kodagu, as it's known today—remains one of the least discussed. Nestled between the districts of Mysore, Hassan, and Malabar, the former province and later state of Coorg had its capital at Mercara (now Madikeri). Despite its distinct identity, the name Coorg or Mercara rarely featured in major cartographic publications from European or American presses. Only in detailed maps from the past—such as Aron Arrowsmith’s 1821 map marking the region as "Koork" and the capital as "Markeree"—do we see traces of its unique geography. That map also noted townships like Tulcauvery (Tala Kaveri), Nauknaar (Nalknad Palace), Rungsamoodra (Rangasamudra), and the fort of Sheringalah (Sirangala). Even earlier, James Rennell’s 1788 map labeled the region as "Corga," bordered by Nelisuram (modern-day Nileshwar in Kerala), the Country of Nayars to the southwest, and the Kingdom of Mysore to the east.

This raises a fundamental question: how did the land of the Kodava people—who have a distinct language, culture, and martial traditions—end up merged into a larger state defined by a different linguistic majority? Karnataka, like many Indian states, is a mosaic of cultures and dialects. It includes linguistic strands such as Kalburagi, Vijayapura, Dharwar, Mysuru, Havyaka, Mangaluru, Gowda, and Konkani in the northwest coast, alongside the two non-Kannada languages of Tulu and Kodagu Takk (previously referred to as Coorgi). Importantly, Kodagu Takk is not a dialect of Kannada but a separate language, structurally distinct, though written in the Kannada script due to its lack of a formal script of its own.

After independence, Coorg was categorized as a Part-C state under the Indian Union, administered directly from Delhi, along with other smaller regions like Ajmer, Bhopal, Bilaspur, Delhi, Himachal Pradesh, and Manipur. The demand for separate statehood for Coorg dates back to at least 1927, when it was placed before the Simon Commission. However, in the 1951 legislative assembly elections, the Indian National Congress won 15 out of 24 seats while the regional Thakkadi Party secured 9. Although Field Marshal K. M. Cariappa opposed the merger with Mysore and expressed his concerns in a letter to President Rajendra Prasad, the political tide turned in favor of integration. In 1956, twenty-two out of twenty-four elected legislators in the Coorg Assembly voted in favor of the merger. This decision, under the States Reorganisation Act, led to Coorg becoming part of Mysore State, later renamed Karnataka.

Even after the merger, resistance did not entirely die down. Groups like the Codava National Council—formerly the Kodagu Rajya Mukti Morcha—continued to voice demands for statehood well into the 1990s. However, these movements never gained substantial traction. One of the key reasons is that in the 1956 reorganisation, Kodagu Takk was categorized as a member of the broader Kannada linguistic family, despite its distinctiveness. This linguistic classification became the justification for merging Coorg into a larger Kannada-majority state.

Despite a unique language, culture, and a history of demanding separate recognition, Kodagu was folded into a larger state shaped by linguistic majoritarianism. Over the decades, the voices calling for statehood faded because the political space for such demands shrank. Today, Kodagu survives more in memory, maps, and culture than in politics.