Friday, July 23, 2010

Rabindranath Tagore(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)

Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941) was the youngest son of Debendranath Tagore, a leader of the Brahmo Samaj, which was a new religious sect in nineteenth-century Bengal and which attempted a revival of the ultimate monistic basis of Hinduism as laid down in the Upanishads. He was educated at home; and although at seventeen he was sent to England for formal schooling, he did not finish his studies there. In his mature years, in addition to his many-sided literary activities, he managed the family estates, a project which brought him into close touch with common humanity and increased his interest in social reforms. He also started an experimental school at Shantiniketan where he tried his Upanishadic ideals of education. From time to time he participated in the Indian nationalist movement, though in his own non-sentimental and visionary way; and Gandhi, the political father of modern India, was his devoted friend. Tagore was knighted by the ruling British Government in 1915, but within a few years he resigned the honour as a protest against British policies in India.
Tagore had early success as a writer in his native Bengal. With his translations of some of his poems he became rapidly known in the West. In fact his fame attained a luminous height, taking him across continents on lecture tours and tours of friendship. For the world he became the voice of India's spiritual heritage; and for India, especially for Bengal, he became a great living institution.
Although Tagore wrote successfully in all literary genres, he was first of all a poet. Among his fifty and odd volumes of poetry are Manasi (1890) [The Ideal One], Sonar Tari (1894) [The Golden Boat], Gitanjali (1910) [Song Offerings], Gitimalya (1914) [Wreath of Songs], and Balaka (1916) [The Flight of Cranes]. The English renderings of his poetry, which include The Gardener (1913), Fruit-Gathering (1916), and The Fugitive (1921), do not generally correspond to particular volumes in the original Bengali; and in spite of its title, Gitanjali: Song Offerings (1912), the most acclaimed of them, contains poems from other works besides its namesake. Tagore's major plays are Raja (1910) [The King of the Dark Chamber], Dakghar (1912) [The Post Office], Achalayatan (1912) [The Immovable], Muktadhara (1922) [The Waterfall], and Raktakaravi (1926) [Red Oleanders]. He is the author of several volumes of short stories and a number of novels, among them Gora (1910), Ghare-Baire (1916) [The Home and the World], and Yogayog (1929) [Crosscurrents]. Besides these, he wrote musical dramas, dance dramas, essays of all types, travel diaries, and two autobiographies, one in his middle years and the other shortly before his death in 1941. Tagore also left numerous drawings and paintings, and songs for which he wrote the music himself.
POEMS BY RABINDRANATH TAGORE:
This is a selection of Tagore's poems.
More Tagore poems can be found at:
1913 Nobel Laureate in Literature
    because of his profoundly sensitive, fresh and beautiful verse, by which, with comsummate skill, he has made his poetic thought, expressed in his own English words, a part of the literature of the West.
Background
  • 1861-1941
  • Place of Birth: Calcutta, India
  • Residence: India
  • Biographical highlights:
    • 1879 - Enrolled at University College, but recalled by father in 1880
    • 1901 - Founded Santiniketan
    • 1921 - Added a university at Santiniketan
    • 1913 - Awarded Nobel Prize for Literature, becoming the first Asian to receive it
    • 1915 - Knighted
    • 1919 - Resigned knighthood after Amritsar Massacre, in protest of British policies GO NOT TO THE TEMPLE TO PUT FLOWERS UPON THE FEET OF GOD,
      FIRST FILL YOUR OWN HOUSE WITH THE FRAGRANCE OF LOVE....
      GO NOT TO THE TEMPLE TO LIGHT CANDLES BEFORE THE ALTAR OF GOD,
      FIRST REMOVE THE DARKNESS OF SIN FROM YOUR OWN HEART.....
      GO NOT TO THE TEMPLE TO BOW DOWN YOUR HEAD IN PRAYER,
      FIRST LEARN TO BOW IN HUMILITY BEFORE YOUR FELLOW MEN.....
      GO NOT TO THE TEMPLE TO PRAY ON BENDED KNEES,
      FIRST BEND DOWN TO LIFT SOMEONE WHO IS DOWNTRODDEN. ....
      GO NOT TO THE TEMPLE TO ASK FOR FORGIVENESS FOR YOUR SINS,
      FIRST FORGIVE FROM YOUR HEART THOSE WHO HAVE SINNED AGAINST YOU.
                                 -By. Rabindranath Tagore


      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!
      vande mātaram
      sujalāṃ suphalāṃ
      malayajaśītalām
      śasya śyāmalāṃ
      mātaram
      vande mātaram

      śubhra jyotsnā
      pulakita yāminīm
      phulla kusumita
      drumadalaśobhinīm
      suhāsinīṃ
      sumadhura bhāṣiṇīm
      sukhadāṃ varadāṃ mātaram
      vande mātaram
      bônde matorom
      shujolang shufolang
      môloeôjoshitolam
      shoshsho shêmolang
      matorom
      bônde matorom

      shubhro jotsna
      pulokito jaminim
      fullo kushumito
      drumodôloshobhinim
      shuhashining
      shumodhuro bhashinim
      shukhodang bôrodang
      matorom
      bônde matorom
वन्दे मातरम्
सुजलां सुफलां मलयजशीतलाम्
सस्य श्यामलां मातरंम् .
शुभ्र ज्योत्सनाम् पुलकित यामिनीम्
फुल्ल कुसुमित द्रुमदलशोभिनीम्,
सुहासिनीं सुमधुर भाषिणीम् .
सुखदां वरदां मातरम् ॥
सप्त कोटि कण्ठ कलकल निनाद कराले
द्विसप्त कोटि भुजैर्ध्रत खरकरवाले
के बोले मा तुमी अबले
बहुबल धारिणीम् नमामि तारिणीम्
रिपुदलवारिणीम् मातरम् ॥
तुमि विद्या तुमि धर्म, तुमि ह्रदि तुमि मर्म
त्वं हि प्राणाः शरीरे
बाहुते तुमि मा शक्ति,
हृदये तुमि मा भक्ति,
तोमारै प्रतिमा गडि मन्दिरे-मन्दिरे ॥
त्वं हि दुर्गा दशप्रहरणधारिणी
कमला कमलदल विहारिणी
वाणी विद्यादायिनी, नमामि त्वाम्
नमामि कमलां अमलां अतुलाम्
सुजलां सुफलां मातरम् ॥
श्यामलां सरलां सुस्मितां भूषिताम्
धरणीं भरणीं मातरम् ॥
English Transliteration:
vande maataram, vande maataram..
sujalaam sufalaam malayaj sheetalaam
sasyashyaamalaam maataram ... vande..
shubhrajyotsna pulakit yaaminiim
phulla kusumita drumadal shobhiniim
suhaasinim sumadhura bhaashhinim
sukhadaam varadaam maataram.. vande maataram
sapta koti kantha kalakala ninaada karaale
nisapta koti bhujaidhruta kharakarvaale
sapta koti kantha kalakala ninaada karaale
nisapta koti bhujaidhruta kharakarvaale
ka bola ka noma eith bole
bahubal dhaariniin namaami taariniim
ripudalavaariniin maataram
vande maataram ...
tumi vidyaa tumi dharma, tumi hridi tumi marma
tvan hi praanaah shariire
baahute tumi maa shakti,
hridaye tumi maa bhakti,
tomaarai pratimaa gadi mandire mandire
vande maataram..
tvan hi durgaa dashapraharanadhaarinii
kamalaa kamaladala vihaarinii
vaanii vidyaadaayinii, namaami tvaam
namaami kamalaan amalaan atulaam
sujalaan sufalaan maataram
vande maataram..
shyaamalaan saralaan susmitaan bhuushhitaam
dharaniin bharaniin maataram
vande maataram....
Meaning:
Mother, I salute thee!
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
bright with orchard gleams,
Cool with thy winds of delight,
Green 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 swords flash out in 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!
Thou who saves, arise and save!
To her I cry who ever her foe 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 gleems,
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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