A few days ago, the Government of India issued a directive that from now on, Vande Mataram, composed by Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay, will enjoy equal status alongside Jana Gana Mana at official functions. Moreover, it will no longer be rendered in truncated form; the full version will be sung at government ceremonies. For Bengalis, this is a moment of profound pride. When another composition by a son of Bengal is accorded parity at the national level, it effectively doubles the honour of Bengal itself. Yet, even in such a moment of cultural affirmation, politics moves to its own rhythm.
Certain groups have attempted to portray the move as “anti-Bengali,” arguing that granting equal status to Vande Mataram somehow diminishes the stature of Rabindranath Tagore, the composer of the National Anthem. Others have questioned whether such recognition was necessary at all. To address these concerns meaningfully, it is essential to turn to history, for historical clarity often dispels contemporary confusion.
On November 26, 1949, the Constitution of India was adopted. At the final sitting of the Constituent Assembly on January 24, 1950, its President, Rajendra Prasad, made an important statement. With little time left for elaborate debate, he declared that Jana Gana Mana would serve as the National Anthem, while Vande Mataram “shall be honoured equally and shall have equal status with it”. This was not a later political innovation but an understanding articulated at the very birth of the Republic. The principle of equal honour between the two songs, therefore, has constitutional roots.
It is also worth recalling Tagore’s own attitude toward Vande Mataram. In a letter dated October 28, 1916 to his son Rathindranath, Tagore described the hymn not merely as a tribute to Bengal but as an invocation to the Universal Mother. Significantly, it was Tagore himself who first sang Vande Mataram publicly at the 1896 session of the Indian National Congress in Calcutta. To frame the recognition of Vande Mataram as an affront to Tagore is thus historically untenable.
During the freedom struggle, Vande Mataram emerged as a powerful mantra of national awakening. It inspired countless revolutionaries who embraced martyrdom with its words on their lips. British intelligence reports frequently observed that raids on revolutionary hideouts revealed three recurring texts: the Bhagavad Gita, Bartaman Bharat by Swami Vivekananda and Anandamath by Bankimchandra. Published in 1882, Anandamath contained the hymn that would later electrify a nation.
Recognising its mobilising power, the colonial government attempted to suppress its public performance. Students were punished for singing it; meetings were dispersed; processions chanting it were lathi-charged. In 1905, two hundred students in Rangpur were fined for raising the slogan. In 1908, when Bal Gangadhar Tilak was deported to Mandalay, demonstrators who cried “Vande Mataram” faced severe repression.
The spiritual and political depth of the hymn was keenly understood by Sri Aurobindo. In 1907, writing in the newspaper Bande Mataram, he described Bankim as a Rishi who had given the nation a “reviving Mantra” that was shaping a new India. According to Aurobindo, Bankim’s supreme service lay in offering the nation a vision of the Mother. In 1907 he wrote, “It was thirty-two years ago that Bankim wrote this great song and few listened; but in a sudden moment of awakening from long delusions the people of Bengal looked round for the truth and in a fated mo-ment somebody sang Bande Mataram. The mentra had been given and in a single day a whole people had been converted to the religion of patriotism. The Mother had revealed herself…”.
Many women freedom fighters also drew strength from this mantra. Matangini Hazra continued chanting Vande Mataram until her final breath after being shot by British forces. Pritilata Waddedar echoed the same cry in her last moments following the attack on the Pahartali European Club in 1932. Even moderate nationalist leaders recognised its significance. In the words of Surendranath Banerjee, although Vande Mataram was originally a song within Anandamath by Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay, over time it transcended the boundaries of mere literary creation. Written in Bengali, its heavily Sanskritised vocabulary enabled educated people across India to grasp its meaning with ease.
The strength of its language, the emotional power of its melody, and its profound yearning for the motherland elevated the song to a position of unique national stature. Surendranath Banerjee compared Bankim to Dante, suggesting that just as Dante had articulated the dream of Italian unity long before political leaders transformed it into reality, Bankim perhaps did not foresee that his hymn would become the mantra of a national awakening. In 1927, Mahatma Gandhi wrote that when Indians sang Bande Mataram, they sang it to the whole of India.
The historical evidence is therefore unequivocal: Vande Mataram was not merely a literary composition but a source of emotional and moral strength during India’s struggle for freedom. Article 51A of the Constitution reminds citizens of their duty to cherish and follow the noble ideals that inspired that struggle. Recognising the full text of Vande Mataram, particularly in the 150th year of its composition, can be seen as part of that constitutional responsibility.
For India as a whole—and especially for Bengal—this decision represents a moment of cultural affirmation. As the nation advances toward its centenary of independence in 2047, it may be fitting to once again echo Bankimchandra’s invocation:
“Tvam hee durga dashapraharanadharini,
kamala kamaladala viharini
Vani vidyadayini,
namami tvam
Namami kamalam
amalam atulam
sujalam suphalam
mataram!”
