National Anthem

It is India’s 60th Republic Day today. Even as I write, flags are being hoisted across the country and the national anthem is being sung.

This is, therefore, an opportune moment to put to rest an extremely silly, but annoyingly persistent, ‘controversy’ about our national anthem, “Jana Gana Mana”, composed by Indian poet laureate Rabindranath Tagore. The song was written, so the accusation goes, to felicitate the coronation of British emperor George V. Hence, it should be replaced by ‘something patriotic’.

So, what do I make of this?

My shortest answer is unprintable. A slightly longer answer is, “No, the song was not addressed to George V and ‘Bharatabhagyavidhata’ in the song does not refer to the British emperor, except in the imaginations of the ignorant and/or deliberately obtuse.”

The details of the song’s composition can be found in a delightful little book by Dr. Prabodh Chandra Sen – literary scholar, historian and a contemporary of Tagore.

To summarize, Tagore was asked to compose a song of felicitation at the coronation of the British emperor by a high ranking acquaintance in the Indian Civil Service.

Incensed by this request, the poet stayed awake all night, penning this masterpiece of a song.

It was first sung on 27th December, 1911 at the proceedings on the Indian National Congress.
The British press dutifully reported that “the Bengali poet Babu Rabindranath Tagore sang a song specially composed by him to welcome the emperor”.

Little did they know that what they had heard was an eulogy to the eternal spirit of India, referring to the geographic and religious unity of the country, the oppression of foreign rule and presaging an independence to come!

If you are frowning in puzzlement at this, you very probably don’t know that the song has five verses. What is sung at the flag hoisting ceremonies is the first verse – merely the ‘geographical introduction’, so to speak.

So, here I give you all five verses, sung and translated.

The singing is mine.

The translation is a bit of a ‘family project’. My parents remembered that my sister had done a translation way back. So, late last night, Dad emails me saying, “Here it is.”

Both sis and I take a look at it, and our conclusion was, “Hmm, not that great, needs some serious changing.” In fact, we are both secretly convinced that this might have been mailed to Dad by somebody else, though parents insist it wasn’t.

Anyway, I heavily modify the second and fifth verses, and sis does a complete rewrite of the third and fourth. And after some further fine tuning, we think, “Now it looks decent.”

After all this, I get another email from parents. Turns out that ‘sister’s original attempt’, which we pretty much rewrote, was actually Tagore’s own translation. Aaaah, well !! :) :)

However, what you see below, is our translation of the song.

Listen, read and judge for yourself.




Thou art the ruler of the minds of the people,
O Creator of India’s destiny.
Thy name rouses the hearts of Punjab, Sind,
Gujarat and Maratha, of Dravida, Orissa and Bengal.
It echoes in the hills of the Vindhyas and Himalayas,

Mingles in the music of Jamuna and Ganges,
In the surging of the Indian Seas.
They pray for thy blessing and sing thy praise,
O Creator of India’s destiny,
Victory, Victory, Victory to thee.

Day and night thy call is heard across the lands,
Drawing Hindus, Buddhists, Jains and Sikhs to thy throne
And Parsees, Musalmans and Christians.
East and West bring offerings to thy shrine,
A garland of Love is woven.
O Uniter of the hearts of all,
Creator of India’s destiny,
Victory, Victory, Victory to thee.

Along that road rugged with the rise and falls of Nations
Which Mankind travels down the ages.
Eternal Charioteer, the thunder of thy Chariot's wheels echo.
Amidst the revolutions of history,
Thy trumpet sounds its clarion call,
Thou guide to all travelers in their paths of peril,
Creator of India’s destiny,
Victory, Victory, Victory to thee.

When the long dreary night was dense with gloom
And the Country lay in a fevered stupor,
Thy sheltering arms held her,
Thy watchful, compassionate eyes bent upon her face.
Against the dark evil dreams of oppression
Did thou protect her, most Compassionate Mother.
Creator of India’s destiny,
Victory, Victory, Victory to thee.

The night dawns, the Sun rises
Over the mountains of the East
The birds sing, life stirs in the morning breeze.
Blessed by the golden rays of thy love,
India awakes again from sleep
And bends her head at thy feet.
Victory, victory, victory to thee,
O Lord of all kings,
Creator of India’s destiny,
Victory, Victory, Victory to thee.