Rabindranath Tagore's 'Shivaji-Utsav': A Poetic Tribute to the Maratha King

Renowned Bengali poet Rabindranath Tagore composed a poetic masterpiece entitled 'Shivaji-Utsav' inspired by the celebration of Shivaji, the great Maratha king, introduced by Balgangadhar Tilak. Through this poetic translation, we delve into the grandeur and significance of 'Shivaji-Utsav' both in English and Marathi, capturing the essence of Shivaji's ideals of freedom and governance.

A Poetic Translation

English Translation

The thunder of war drums echoes through the sky
tttttThe clash of swords rings out the battle cries fly.
tttttShivaji, the lion-hearted, leads his fearless band
tttttReclaiming the glory of this Maratha land.

His sword flashes fierce as his eyes blaze with might,
tttttHe vanquishes foes and restores justice's light.
tttttThe people rejoice, spirits soar high
tttttAs the banner of freedom is raised up to the sky.

Marathi Translation

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Historical Context and Inspiration

Rabindranath was inspired to create 'Shivaji-Utsav', a poem celebrating the Shivaji festival as initiated by Balgangadhar Tilak. His poetry glorifies Shivaji as a symbol of eternally burning freedom, resonating deeply with the Indian ethos. Shivaji, revered by Vishwaguru, was not merely a warrior but a philosopher who sought to unite the Maratha nation under his leadership.

In 1897, Tagore wrote 'Pratinidhi', a poem where he celebrated the idealized form of kingship which was preached by Saint Ramdas to his disciple, Shivaji. This poem succinctly captures the essence of Shivaji's ideals and the historical significance of 'Shivaji-Utsav'.

Excerpts from 'Shivaji-Utsav'

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In what far away century, on what unmarked day, I no longer know today,

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Upon what mountain peak in darkened forests, Oh King Shivaji,

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Did this thought light up your brow as a touch of lightning,

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As it came to thee – "The scattered parts of this land with one religion, Shall I bind for eternity."

Bengal did not stir that day in the midst of a dream. It had not received the word – It did not answer thy call nor heralded it with the blowing of the sacred conch – Instead, it spread its shielding veil, its robes of verdant green, over the slumbering village folk at night, gathering them to its breast.

Then one day from the fields of Mahrattha, your thunderous flame, Painted the horizons all about with flames of violent change, Imbued with a great clarion call. The crown upon the Mughal’s brow was shaken by storm, As is a ripening leaf – Even that day Bengal did not hear that thunderous Marattha call, Nor heed the message within.

Legacy and Impact

After that, in the midst of turbulent darkness, The palace of Delhi was emptied – In each of their great halls, Ravenous night began engulfing the brilliance of light. The corpse craving vultures cackled in hideous tones As the glory of the Mughals finally succumbed to the pyre – in handfuls of ashes, are their remains retained.
tttttThat day in this Bengal by the side of the traders route, Upon silent steps, The merchants, secretly smuggled in perfidy, The throne that had once housed kings.
tttttAnd Bengal anointed that very same seat with the water of its own Ganges, In secretive silence – The weighing scales that had once measured profit refashioned through that dark night, Till at dawn, a sceptre was held in the hands of a new king.
tttttWhere were you that day, Oh thoughtful brave Mahrattha? Why did we not hear thy name! Where lay your saffron flag, crushed to dust – What a terrible end!
tttttThe foreigner tells your story, laughing you off as a bandit king, Roaring with mirth at your fall – Your devoted effort, now seen as a thief’s fruitless quest,
tttttThis is how they know you today. Silence your garrulous words, false account – Thou art filled with lies.
tttttYour writ shall be erased by the truth the Creator scribes, That alone shall prevail.
tttttFor how will the truth that is for immortality bound, Be disguised by the avarice of your tongue? The prayers that are true, will never be stalled – In the three worlds, this I know to be true.
tttttOh brave royal penitent, the greatness of thought That you have left for fate to treasure, Not one grain of that will be lost to the undeserving.
tttttThe sacrifice you made at the altar of the goddess who guards our land, The truth that you strove for, relentless, Who would have thought that it will grace till the end of days, The coffers of this land of ours.
tttttFor long did you remain unknown to the world, ascetic king of mine, Among the peaks, Just as a stream breaks through the rocks to awaken with rain, In full spate, You too emerged – to the surprise of the world who thought, This pennant that hides the skies, What shape had it sought, Where was it secreted away for so long?