We in India have developed a new political interest and hobby: renaming places. And Lansdowne in Uttarakhand may be the next victim of Name Change Politics.
Bombay became Mumbai. Madras became Chennai. Calcutta became Kolkata. Allahabad became Prayagraj. Faizabad district became Ayodhya. Some changes carried linguistic logic, cultural correction, or historical reclamation. Fair enough. Over time, people adjust. Maps update. Station announcers improve their pronunciation. And life settles in.
And then we start looking at the next place to rename. And we have a strategy to do so. Stroke public sentiment. Rename first, think later. That’s all about Name Change Politics.
Take Lansdowne, the quaint little tourist town of Uttarakhand.
The charming hill town was named after Lord Lansdowne — Henry Charles Keith Petty-Fitzmaurice, Viceroy of India from 1888 to 1894. The Garhwal Rifles moved here in 1887, and the town grew around the cantonment and the military presence. Today, the Lansdowne Cantonment Board retains and remains the governing institution of the area.
Recently, the board adopted a proposal to rename Lansdowne as Jaswantgarh, after Rifleman Jaswant Singh Rawat, the celebrated 1962 Nuranang war hero and Maha Vir Chakra awardee, who served with the 4th Battalion of the Garhwal Rifles. The name Change Politics is heating up.
Let me state clearly: I am not against name changes.
I support them when they are logical, historically sound, and create a net positive impact. If a correction restores identity, strengthens heritage, and helps the future, it deserves consideration.
But not every renaming is reform. Some are simply rebranding without a business plan.
And when it is associated with my native town, my marketing brain gets nervous.
Lansdowne today is not merely a colonial leftover. It is an established tourism brand. It lives in travel searches, hotel listings, YouTube vlogs, Instagram reels, and office group chats planning long weekends. In the attention economy, recall matters. Recognition matters. Familiarity matters.
A tourist from Delhi may impulsively book Lansdowne because the name exists in memory. Replace it overnight, and you don’t just change signage; you reset discoverability. All the hidden cost of name Change Politics.
Shakespeare wrote, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
True. But Shakespeare never handled destination branding or Google search behaviour.
A rose may smell the same, but if you rename it “Botanical Unit 3,” sales may dip.
Now, if we are determined to rename based on deeper historical roots, then there is another candidate waiting patiently: Kaludanda — the older local forest identity associated with the region before the cantonment era. If authenticity is the argument, that conversation deserves equal space.
Because selective history is often politics wearing traditional clothes.
Supporters of the new name invoke honour, and rightly so. Rifleman Jaswant Singh Rawat is worthy of remembrance. But must remembrance always arrive with a municipal stamp?
Why not build a world-class war memorial? A military museum. Scholarships for local youth. Heritage circuits around the Garhwal Rifles. Events that celebrate valour while adding economic value.
If every hero receives a renamed town, what happens when the next great hero emerges?
Do we keep updating signboards like smartphone software? Name Change Politics may agree with that.
Meanwhile, the real issues sit unattended.
Fragile ecology. Unplanned tourism. Waste management stress. Water pressure. Construction creep. Limited civic funds. Commercial exploitation. Regulatory confusion in hill settlements.
Yet our emergency response is typography; governance by paintbrush.
To be fair, many city name changes eventually settle. Mumbai is Mumbai. Chennai is Chennai. Large metros survive because economic gravity forces adaptation.
But smaller tourism towns are different. They survive on memory, romance, and discoverability. They need continuity more than controversy.
Let me offer an example of sensible renaming: Kotdwar becoming Kanva Nagri Kotdwar. That would retain Kotdwar’s identity as the gateway city to Garhwal, while establishing a stronger civilisational link to Kanva Ashram, associated with the birth of Bharat, after whom the nation is named.
Now that is strategic naming. Though I am sure many did not see it that way.
Provided, the government now invests in making Kanva Ashram a place of interest and visit. Develops infrastructure, builds tourism circuits, and places them on the national and international map.
A new name without new effort is just decorative administration.
Incidentally, I learned of the Lansdowne name-change proposal not through a public campaign but through Google. Which tells us something. If citizens discover the name change initiative through search engines, perhaps consultation took the scenic route.
Names matter. But governance matters more.
A place earns greatness through roads, ecology, discipline, heritage, and opportunity, not merely through fresh letterheads. Maybe someone in the right senses will prevail, and we will stop such a name change.
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The article first appeared in FREE PRESS JOURNAL 22nd April 2026.
