Recently the Ministry of the Interior issued new ones Guidelines regulates the singing of Vande Mataram and requires its performance before the national anthem at official events. Under the guise of protocol and respect, the guidelines transformed the national song into a regulated nationalist ritual. This piece attempts to unveil the various obscured nuances behind the policies through the language politics enshrined in Vande Mataram, the forced push towards performative nationalism and the persistent notion of the nation as a feminized ‘motherland’.
Genealogy of Vande Mataram
Before delving into the broader arguments surrounding the impact and underlying intent of the guidelines, it is important to understand the history surrounding Vande Mataram.
Vande Mataram, which translates to ‘I greet you respectfully, Mother’, has been dogged by one controversy or another since the day it was first printed in Banga Darshan (edited by Bankimchandra Chatterjee) in 1875. It was a strange composition in the sense that it was written in two languages. The song consisted of four verses, the first two in Sanskrit and the rest in Bengali.
Interestingly, the song, hailed as a symbol of contemporary national unity, was composed by Bamkin as a “Bengal anthem” and nothing more. The images of the landscape and references to the goddess Durga were set in the specific regional context of Bengal.
Interestingly, the song, hailed as a symbol of contemporary national unity, was composed by Bamkin as a “Bengal anthem” and nothing more. The images of the landscape and references to the goddess Durga were set in the specific regional context of Bengal. The song only became popular in 1905 when Curzon decided to partition Bengal. The song was created as a sign of national unity and masses sang “Vande Mataram” against the agitation and oppression of the British Army. Subsequently, “Vande Mataram” became the inaugural address of all Congress meetings and “Congress” and “Vande Mataram” became inseparable. Till the early 1930s, sections of Muslims, Buddhists, Jains, Sikhs, Christians, South Indians, secular groups and even Arya Samajis protested against the Congress’s decision to declare ‘Vande Mataram’ as the ‘national song’. They argued that the supposed national song glorified idolatry by invoking exclusively Hindu deities while presenting a regionally limited conception of the nation. Composed partly in Bengali and using an allegory depicting Bengal as India, the song, in her view, expressed a regional rather than a pan-Indian aspiration.
Linguistic structure and social hierarchies
The essence and idea of a song can be clearly understood through the linguistic discourse that is preferred in formulating the piece. As mentioned earlier, the first two verses of the national song are written in Sanskrit and the last four verses are in Bengali. The recent policies seeking to portray the song as a symbol of national unity clearly overlook the fundamental linguistic diversity of the Indian state, which cannot be limited to these two languages.
Tableau on ‘Vande Mataram’ at the Republic Day parade
An epistemic analysis of the two languages, especially Sanskrit, clearly provides the harsh reality of Indian society. Sanskrit as a language was obviously used as a means of coercion against people from lower castes. Language learning was inherently discriminatory and enabled upper castes to exert oppression against lower castes and Dalits. Likewise, the last four verses of the songs are not written in the colloquial Bengali language. Instead, Bankim employs a Sadhu Bhasha-influenced, Sanskrit-heavy register that was characteristic of the educated, upper-caste Bhadralok intelligentsia of late 19th-century Bengal. Therefore, the grammar of the song may appear Bengali in the context, but the intellect remains far removed from the farmers, lower castes and working class section of the society.
In today’s times, it becomes inevitable to neglect the linguistic framework as a linguistic divide is obviously visible across the country. Citizens across the country and in numerous states are being attacked because they do not prefer or relate to the language of a particular region. By imposing a certain linguistic song on its territory, the state is subtly trying to widen the gap.
National rituals and political influence
The guidelines also clearly state that all six verses of ‘Vande Mataram’ must be performed at official functions with the audience standing at attention. These guidelines aim to ensure uniformity and extend protocols similar to those of the Law on the Prevention of Insults to National Honor to the national song. Such a directive could be interpreted as carrying an undertone of forced nationalism.
In the current political order, nationalism is increasingly taking on hyper-nationalistic forms across states. Within the contextual boundaries of the Indian state, a steep rise in Hindu nationalism can be theorized since the right-wing party’s electoral victory in 2014. As MN Roy sharply observed, nationalism remains a “selfish, narrow-minded, antiquated cult,” a characterization that reflects the current moment.
The entire act of asking people to stand at attention appears less as an expression of organic respect and more as a performative assertion of nationalist triumph. Practices of coercive participation often neglect the plurality of individual understandings of nationalism and patriotism. In this sense, the guidelines are a clear attempt to reduce the contemporaneous epistemic differences between the ideas of nationalism and patriotism. The vocabulary of the state, its machinery and the fourth pillar of democracy strive to make the terms “nationalism” and “patriotism” synonymous.
It remains a relevant question whether forced participation of people can actually promote respect or patriotism, especially when the state itself actively marginalizes citizens through the use of national symbols.
Gendered conceptions of the nation
A key discussion that comes up every time, alongside the discussion of Vande Mataram, is the idea of the geographical frontier as a female figure; in particular the representation and naming of the country and its geography as “mother” or “motherland”. The meaning of ‘Mataram’ in the song coincides with ‘one’s own mother’. “.
Although the images of Bharat Mata are widespread and widely acceptable, the ideological viewpoints that make up the images are rarely clarified and questioned. The numerous figures represent the Bharat Mata as an image of an ethnically North Indian and sexually and morally “respectable” woman from the upper caste and upper class.
Although the images of Bharat Mata are widespread and widely acceptable, the ideological viewpoints that make up the images are rarely clarified and questioned. The numerous figures represent the Bharat Mata as an image of an ethnically North Indian and sexually and morally “respectable” woman from the upper caste and upper class.
The repeated depiction of the country as a motherland is not a neutral metaphor; it brings to light its associated politics. The feminization of the country, of course, requires the expectation of dedication, sacrifice and unconditional loyalty, borrowing from patriarchal ideas of motherhood where reverence is expected and disagreement is seen as betrayal. This idea prohibits the nation from having its political identity (which can be criticized), but presents it as a moral figure to be revered.
More importantly, the compulsion to relate to the nation through a maternal figure presupposes a shared affective register that does not take into account the history of exclusion, violence and marginalization. Historically, the nation has provided neither care nor protection for many, and the maternal imagination erases these lived realities. Therefore, a feminist engagement with nationalism must aim to examine not only who is included in the idea of the nation, but also who is compelled to love it and on what terms.
National symbols and democratic pluralism
These recently released policies surrounding Vande Mataram reveal a deeper shift in the way the Indian state seeks to control affect, memory and belonging, rather than simply a matter of procedure. When the symbols of the freedom movement become incorporated into specific state-approved interpretations, they lose their historical openness and continue to function as instruments of compliance. When national symbols are enforced rather than negotiated, they no longer serve as sites of shared imagination but become tests of loyalty.
At stake, therefore, is the democratic ability to disagree without being rejected. A pluralistic society cannot rely on forced reverence; Rather, it thrives through continuous dialogue and the dissemination of symbols, languages and identities. To insist on a unified implementation of nationalism is to misunderstand the historical conditions under which anti-colonial unity emerged. If the nation is to remain a political community and not a moral imperative, it must give its citizens the freedom not only to love them differently, but also to question the ways in which that love is demanded.
Harsh Bodwal teaches social sciences and English at a CBSE affiliated school and holds an MA in Political Science from Jawaharlal Nehru University. His research examines how caste, patriarchy and capital intersect with various institutions to shape and often constrain democratic processes.
