Vande Mataram (Bengali: বন্দে মাতরম্, lit. “I bow to thee, Mother”) is a Sanskrit poem written by Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay in the 1870s, which he included in his 1882 Bengali novel Anandamath.
The poem was a popular marching song during the Indian independence movement. It served as a powerful rallying cry for nationalists protesting British rule. In recognition of its historical role, the Constituent Assembly of India adopted the first two stanzas of the song as the National Song of India on 24 January 1950, declaring that it should carry “equal status” with India’s national anthem, Jana Gana Mana.
History and Significance
Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay wrote the poem at a time when British administrators were introducing patriotic anthems like God Save the Queen in colonial India. He envisioned Vande Mataram as a tribute to the Motherland, personified as the Goddess Durga.
The song gained national prominence during the anti-partition Swadeshi movement in Bengal (1905). It became a powerful political slogan, and singing it in public was banned by the British colonial government, leading to thousands of arrests.
At the 1896 Calcutta session of the Indian National Congress, Rabindranath Tagore sang Vande Mataram publicly for the first time, having set it to a beautiful classical melody in Raga Desh.
Complete Lyrics
The official national song comprises the first two stanzas of the poem:
Sanskrit/Bengali Script (Original)
বন্দে মাতরম্।
সুজলাং সুফলাং মলয়জশীতলাম্,
শস্যশ্যামলাং মাতরম্।
বন্দে মাতরম্॥
শুভ্রজ্যোত্স্না-পুলকিত-যামিনীম্,
ফুল্লকুসুমিত-দ্রুমদলশোভিনীম্,
সুহাসিনীং সুমধুরভাষিণীম্,
সুখদাং বরদাং মাতরম্॥
বন্দে মাতরম্॥
Roman Transliteration
Vande Mataram!
Sujalam, sufalam, malayaja shitalam,
Shasya shyamalam, Mataram!
Vande Mataram!
Shubhra jyotsna pulakita yaminim,
Phulla kusumita drumadala shobhinim,
Suhasinim sumadhura bhashinim,
Sukhadam varadam, Mataram!
Vande Mataram!
English Translation by Sri Aurobindo
I bow to thee, Mother,
richly-watered, richly-fruited,
cool with the winds of the south,
dark with the crops of the harvests,
The Mother!Her nights rejoicing in the glory of the moonlight,
her lands clothed beautifully with her trees in flowering bloom,
sweet of laughter, sweet of speech,
The Mother, giver of boons, giver of bliss!