Capt G R Gopinath (Retd.) builds bridges, sometimes by tearing down walls. He is a soldier, farmer, and entrepreneur.
The unseemly controversy and polarising debates over Vande Mataram took my mind towards my school days in Gorur. That Kannada-medium government school in rural Hassan had walls with photographs of national heroes – from Gandhi to Bose to Nehru to Ambedkar. As I remembered the rendition of Jana Gana Mana as part of the Independence Day celebrations at the school, it struck me that while the imagery of that ritual and the cadence of the anthem have lingered, we never understood the Bengali lyric. Yet it had an indescribable effect on us. It brought in a sense of oneness which blurred the religious and other divisions of that singing group. In my mind, I revisited the beat and lilt of Vanshidhar Shukla’s Kadam kadam badhaye ja, Henry Francis Lyte’s Abide with me, and Muhammad Iqbal’s Saare jahan se achcha; I also replayed the marching song of the Indian Armed Forces, a true ode to the diversity of this great nation.
I was oblivious to the meaning, history, or significance of the songs in the armed forces for many decades after I first heard them as a 13-year-old, while marching in the Republic Day Parade in Delhi in 1965. The impressive parade involving defence personnel, cadets from across the country, and tableaux that showcased the cultures of different states and their ethnicities left an indelible impression. As far as I can recall, in those days, we were not invested in interpreting these songs to the minutest detail or questioning the authenticity of the political messaging in their lines.
Vande Mataram has been accorded the status of the ‘national song’, but it is not a regular fixture at ceremonial events. Every rendition of the song – even in its instrumental version – continues to leave an electrifying effect on me. I must, however, admit that I understood only the first two words – Vande Mataram.
There have been unsavoury controversies over the National Anthem, too. While some objected to the mention of the province of Sindh, others have protested the exclusion of Kashmir and the Northeastern states. My state, Karnataka, has seen controversies over its state anthem, Jaya Bharata Jananiya Tanujate, penned by the legendary Jnanpith laureate Kuvempu. Adopted in 2003, the anthem celebrates Bharata as the mother of Karnataka and emphasises the diversity, unity, and rich cultural heritage of the land. It has been at the centre of controversy over its length, its “officially accepted” tune, and the non-inclusion of prominent figures.
Such debates and tensions are not restricted to India. In the United States, the country’s national anthem has been objected to by blacks over its racist overtones. There is context in the fact that the author of the song, Francis Scott Key, was a slaveholder. The United Kingdom has witnessed objections over the “outdated” homage its anthem pays to the monarchy. Closer home, the Bangladeshi national anthem, Amar sonar Bangla, also written by Rabindranath Tagore, has faced Islamist backlash. Proposals to adopt an alternative anthem have been made, even during the term of the present Muhammad Yunus-led interim government.
When South Africa gained independence from a brutal regime, the great statesman Nelson Mandela faced a similar challenge. The national anthem of the apartheid era had brazen connotations of white supremacy. Mandela, as the first post-apartheid president, showed great sagacity and gifted the new nation an anthem that incorporated both black and white cultural heritages, in keeping with his vision of reconciliation and unity.
The ongoing debate in India, of course, has a striking political context. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s charge that Nehru “shortened” the national song to appease Muslim sentiments and the BJP’s attack on the Congress over its “communal” and “divisive” agenda come ahead of a crucial election year. This political battle has been playing out in a familiar pattern, on the familiar pitch of tweaked/distorted history.
If the BJP and the RSS stand for Vasudaiva Kutumbakam and the Congress represents the spirit of secularism, where is the difference, really? What is the point of contention here? The warring camps must show maturity by looking beyond the immediate electoral takeaways and focus, instead, on building a stronger nation. This is not the time for our political leadership to stand divided. This is the time to ensure that political face-offs do not distract us from the larger national goals, at a time of intense geopolitical power shifts and an evolving world order that is marked by dissonance and uncertainty. The song presents an opportunity to introspect, shun acrimony, and re-embrace our glorious diversities.
The writer builds bridges, sometimes by tearing down walls. He is a soldier, farmer, and entrepreneur.
Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.