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Full Version
Vande maataraM
sujalaaM suphalaaM malayaja shiitalaaM
SasyashyaamalaaM maataram ||
Shubhrajyotsnaa pulakitayaaminiiM
pullakusumita drumadala shobhiniiM
suhaasiniiM sumadhura bhaashhiNiiM
sukhadaaM varadaaM maataraM ||
Koti koti kantha kalakalaninaada karaale
koti koti bhujai.rdhR^itakharakaravaale
abalaa keno maa eto bale
bahubaladhaariNiiM namaami taariNiiM
ripudalavaariNiiM maataraM ||
Tumi vidyaa tumi dharma
tumi hR^idi tumi marma
tvaM hi praaNaaH shariire
Baahute tumi maa shakti
hR^idaye tumi maa bhakti
tomaara i pratimaa gaDi
mandire mandire ||
TvaM hi durgaa dashapraharaNadhaariNii
kamalaa kamaladala vihaariNii
vaaNii vidyaadaayinii namaami tvaaM
Namaami kamalaaM amalaaM atulaaM
SujalaaM suphalaaM maataraM ||
ShyaamalaaM saralaaM susmitaaM bhuushhitaaM
DharaNiiM bharaNiiM maataraM | |
National Song of India
Vande Matharam -
Vandē Mātaram
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Bankim Chandra
Chattopadhyay composed the song
Vande Mataram in an inspired moment, Rabindranath sang it by setting a
glorious tune to it and it was left to the genius of Shri Aurobindo to
interpret the deeper meaning of the song out of which India received the
philosophy of new Nationalism.
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English Translation by Shree Aurobindo
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
foeman 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
nervs 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 gleems, Dark of hue O candid-fair
In thy soul, with jewelled hair And thy glorious smile divine, Lovilest of all
earthly lands, Showering wealth from well-stored hands! Mother, mother mine!
Mother sweet, I bow to thee, Mother great and free!
The English
translation of Vande Mataram rendered by Shree Aurobindo, is considered as
official and the best!
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