Bankim Chandra Chatterji was the Rishi who gave the mantra Bande Matram-a song that inspired millions of youth of India to take up arms against British rule. At that time India was enslaved by the British who wanted to impose an alien culture on India. This they did with the help of Indians educated abroad and appointed them in key positions so that they could permanently enslave India. These people had lost all pride in their own culture or love for their Motherland. their only objective was to amass wealth in the shortest possible time. They had no sympathy or compassion for the local people of India.
Bankim was no ordinary man- a poet,scholar,linguist and above all a patriot. He realized that if India was to once again take its rightful place in the world, a new language would have to be created. The old Bengali was only for academics and had lost its vitality and power. His books Anand Math,Kapalkundala,Devi Chaudhrani and many of his poems were a commentary on the state of affairs in India at that time and an attempt to inspire and motivate the youth of India and to cultivate love for their motherland. He had utter contempt for the priests and mullahs who he felt had become pawns in the hands of the British and wanted to impose an alien culture on India.
Bankim's vision of India which he has painted in Bande Matram is of Durga who carries trenchant steel in her thousand arms astride a lioness and ruthlessly destroys the Asuras.
Bande Matram continues to inspire millions of Indians even today to aim for the impossible without fear or hesitation.
Mother, I bow to thee!
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
bright with orchard gleams,
Cool with thy winds of delight,
Dark fields waving Mother of might,
Mother free.
Glory of moonlight dreams,
Over thy branches and lordly streams,
Clad in thy blossoming trees,
Mother, giver of ease
Laughing low and sweet!
Mother I kiss thy feet,
Speaker sweet and low!
Mother, to thee I bow.
Who hath said thou art weak in thy lands,
When the sword flesh out in the seventy million hands
And seventy million voices roar
Thy dreadful name from shore to shore?
With many strengths who art mighty and stored,
To thee I call Mother and Lord!
Though who savest, arise and save!
To her I cry who ever her foe man drove
Back from plain and Sea
And shook herself free.
Thou art wisdom, thou art law,
Thou art heart, our soul, our breath
Though art love divine, the awe
In our hearts that conquers death.
Thine the strength that nerves the arm,
Thine the beauty, thine the charm.
Every image made divine
In our temples is but thine.
Thou art Durga, Lady and Queen,
With her hands that strike and her swords of sheen,
Thou art Lakshmi lotus-throned,
And the Muse a hundred-toned,
Pure and perfect without peer,
Mother lend thine ear,
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
Bright with thy orchard gleams,
Dark of hue O candid-fair.
In thy soul, with jewelled hair
And thy glorious smile divine,
Loveliest of all earthly lands,
Showering wealth from well-stored hands!
Mother, mother mine!
Mother sweet, I bow to thee,
Mother great and free!
Bankim was no ordinary man- a poet,scholar,linguist and above all a patriot. He realized that if India was to once again take its rightful place in the world, a new language would have to be created. The old Bengali was only for academics and had lost its vitality and power. His books Anand Math,Kapalkundala,Devi Chaudhrani and many of his poems were a commentary on the state of affairs in India at that time and an attempt to inspire and motivate the youth of India and to cultivate love for their motherland. He had utter contempt for the priests and mullahs who he felt had become pawns in the hands of the British and wanted to impose an alien culture on India.
Bankim's vision of India which he has painted in Bande Matram is of Durga who carries trenchant steel in her thousand arms astride a lioness and ruthlessly destroys the Asuras.
Bande Matram continues to inspire millions of Indians even today to aim for the impossible without fear or hesitation.
Mother, I bow to thee!
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
bright with orchard gleams,
Cool with thy winds of delight,
Dark fields waving Mother of might,
Mother free.
Glory of moonlight dreams,
Over thy branches and lordly streams,
Clad in thy blossoming trees,
Mother, giver of ease
Laughing low and sweet!
Mother I kiss thy feet,
Speaker sweet and low!
Mother, to thee I bow.
Who hath said thou art weak in thy lands,
When the sword flesh out in the seventy million hands
And seventy million voices roar
Thy dreadful name from shore to shore?
With many strengths who art mighty and stored,
To thee I call Mother and Lord!
Though who savest, arise and save!
To her I cry who ever her foe man drove
Back from plain and Sea
And shook herself free.
Thou art wisdom, thou art law,
Thou art heart, our soul, our breath
Though art love divine, the awe
In our hearts that conquers death.
Thine the strength that nerves the arm,
Thine the beauty, thine the charm.
Every image made divine
In our temples is but thine.
Thou art Durga, Lady and Queen,
With her hands that strike and her swords of sheen,
Thou art Lakshmi lotus-throned,
And the Muse a hundred-toned,
Pure and perfect without peer,
Mother lend thine ear,
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
Bright with thy orchard gleams,
Dark of hue O candid-fair.
In thy soul, with jewelled hair
And thy glorious smile divine,
Loveliest of all earthly lands,
Showering wealth from well-stored hands!
Mother, mother mine!
Mother sweet, I bow to thee,
Mother great and free!
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