Sarojini Naidu

Sarojini Naidu

1879–1949 · lived 70 years -- --

Sarojini Naidu was a prominent Indian poet and a key figure in the Indian independence movement. Known as the "Nightingale of India," her poetry often celebrated Indian culture, love, and patriotism, earning her acclaim in both India and abroad. Beyond her literary contributions, Naidu was a fervent nationalist, a suffragist, and a powerful orator who played a crucial role in India's struggle for freedom from British rule. She served as the first Indian woman to hold the office of Governor of a state in India.

n. 1879-02-13, Hyderabad · m. 1949-03-02, Lucknow

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Wandering Singers

Wandering Singers

WHERE the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet,
Through echoing forest and echoing street,
With lutes in our hands ever-singing we roam,
All men are our kindred, the world is our home.
Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed,
The laughter and beauty of women long dead;
The sword of old battles, the crown of old kings,
And happy and simple and sorrowful things.
What hope shall we gather, what dreams shall we sow?
Where the wind calls our wandering footsteps we go.
No love bids us tarry, no joy bids us wait:
The voice of the wind is the voice of our fate.
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Bio

Identification and basic context

Sarojini Naidu, born Sarojini Chattopadhyay, was a pioneering Indian poet and political activist. She is widely celebrated as the "Nightingale of India" for her lyrical poetry and her significant role in the Indian independence movement. Her life and work embody a powerful fusion of literary artistry and unwavering commitment to social and political reform.

Childhood and education

Born into a prominent Bengali family in Hyderabad, Sarojini received an excellent education. Her father, Aghorenath Chattopadhyay, was a scholar and philanthropist, and her mother, Barada Sundari Devi, was a poet. Sarojini excelled in her studies, mastering several languages, including English, Bengali, Urdu, and Persian. She attended the University of Madras and later pursued higher education in London at King's College and Girton College, Cambridge, where she continued to hone her literary talents.

Literary trajectory

Naidu's poetic journey began early, and she published her first collection, 'The Golden Threshold,' in 1905. This was followed by 'The Bird of Time' (1912) and 'The Broken Wing' (1917). Her poems were admired for their lyrical beauty, rich imagery, and themes that often celebrated Indian life, nature, love, and the nascent spirit of Indian nationalism. Her literary success brought her international recognition, and she became known as the "Nightingale of India." She continued to write throughout her life, though her political activities increasingly took precedence.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Sarojini Naidu's poetry is characterized by its musicality, vibrant imagery, and often romantic themes. She drew inspiration from the rich tapestry of Indian culture, folklore, and landscapes. Her style is lyrical and evocative, with a strong sense of rhythm and melody, which earned her the "Nightingale" moniker. Common themes in her work include love, beauty, death, patriotism, and the spiritual aspects of Indian life. She often employed traditional poetic forms but infused them with a distinctly Indian sensibility. Her language is elegant and accessible, making her poetry popular among a wide audience. Her later poems also began to reflect her growing political consciousness and her commitment to India's freedom.

Cultural and historical context

Naidu lived during a pivotal period in Indian history, marked by the struggle for independence from British colonial rule. She was a contemporary of Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, and other leading figures of the Indian National Congress. Her life spanned significant political events, including the Non-Cooperation Movement, the Civil Disobedience Movement, and the eventual attainment of independence. Her poetry served as a source of inspiration and national pride during this era, articulating the aspirations of a nation striving for self-determination.

Personal life

Sarojini Naidu married Govindarajulu Naidu, a non-Brahmin physician, in 1898, a union that challenged the prevailing social norms of the time. She had four children. Her intellectual and political engagements led her to form strong bonds with many leaders of the independence movement. Her speeches and writings were often infused with a deep sense of compassion and a commitment to social justice, advocating for women's rights and the eradication of untouchability.

Recognition and reception

Naidu received widespread acclaim for her poetry, both in India and internationally. She was awarded the Kaisar-i-Hind Medal by the British government for her public service, though she later renounced it in protest against British policies. Her political activism was equally recognized; she presided over the Kanpur session of the Indian National Congress in 1925, becoming the first Indian woman to do so. She was a prominent voice in national and international forums, advocating for India's cause.

Influences and legacy

Naidu was influenced by Romantic poets like Tennyson, Keats, and Shelley, as well as by the Indian poetic traditions. Her own legacy is profound. As a poet, she brought Indian themes and sensibilities to a global audience. As a political leader, she was a courageous advocate for freedom and equality. Her role in the independence movement and her pioneering efforts in promoting women's rights and social reform continue to inspire.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Critics have analyzed Naidu's poetry for its blend of Eastern and Western influences, its lyrical qualities, and its role in articulating nationalist sentiment. Her work is often seen as a bridge between traditional Indian culture and the emerging modern Indian identity. The themes of love and patriotism in her poetry are often interpreted as expressions of both personal emotion and collective national aspiration.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Despite her aristocratic background and international acclaim, Naidu remained deeply connected to the common people of India. Her eloquence and charisma made her a powerful public speaker, capable of galvanizing crowds. She was also known for her sharp wit and her ability to navigate complex political landscapes with grace and determination.

Death and memory

Sarojini Naidu passed away in 1949. Her death was mourned by a nation that recognized her immense contributions to literature and its struggle for freedom. She is remembered today as a national hero, a celebrated poet, and a tireless champion of human rights and Indian independence. Her works continue to be studied and cherished, and her life serves as an enduring example of dedication to art and nation.

Poems

26

Wandering Singers

Wandering Singers

WHERE the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet,
Through echoing forest and echoing street,
With lutes in our hands ever-singing we roam,
All men are our kindred, the world is our home.
Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed,
The laughter and beauty of women long dead;
The sword of old battles, the crown of old kings,
And happy and simple and sorrowful things.
What hope shall we gather, what dreams shall we sow?
Where the wind calls our wandering footsteps we go.
No love bids us tarry, no joy bids us wait:
The voice of the wind is the voice of our fate.
681

To The God of Pain

To The God of Pain

UNWILLING priestess in thy cruel fane,
Long hast thou held me, pitiless god of Pain,
Bound to thy worship by reluctant vows,
My tired breast girt with suffering, and my brows
Anointed with perpetual weariness.
Long have I borne thy service, through the stress
Of rigorous years, sad days and slumberless nights,
Performing thine inexorable rites.


For thy dark altars, balm nor milk nor rice,
But mine own soul thou'st ta'en for sacrifice:


All the rich honey of my youth's desire,
And all the sweet oils from my crushed life drawn,
And all my flower-like dreams and gem-like fire
Of hopes up-leaping like the light of dawn.


I have no more to give, all that was mine
Is laid, a wrested tribute, at thy shrine;
Let me depart, for my whole soul is wrung,
And all my cheerless orisons are sung;
Let me depart, with faint limbs let me creep
To some dim shade and sink me down to sleep.
581

Transcience

Transcience


Nay, do not grieve tho' life be full of sadness,
Dawn will not veil her spleandor for your grief,
Nor spring deny their bright, appointed beauty
To lotus blossom and ashoka leaf.


Nay, do not pine, tho' life be dark with trouble,
Time will not pause or tarry on his way;
To-day that seems so long, so strange, so bitter,
Will soon be some forgotten yesterday.


Nay, do not weep; new hopes, new dreams, new faces,
The unspent joy of all the unborn years,
Will prove your heart a traitor to its sorrow,
And make your eyes unfaithful to their tears.
289

To My Children

To My Children

Jaya Surya


GOLDEN sun of victory, born
In my life's unclouded morn,
In my lambent sky of love,
May your growing glory prove
Sacred to your consecration,
To my heart and to my nation.
Sun of victory, may you be
Sun of song and liberty.


Padmaja


Lotus-maiden, you who claim
All the sweetness of your name,
Lakshmi, fortune's queen, defend you,
Lotus-born like you, and send you
Balmy moons of love to bless you,
Gentle joy-winds to caress you.
Lotus-maiden, may you be
Fragrant of all ecstasy.


Ranadheera


Little lord of battle, hail
In your newly-tempered mail!
Learn to conquer, learn to fight
In the foremost flanks of right,
Like Valmiki's heroes bold,
Rubies girt in epic gold.
Lord of battle, may you be,
Lord of love and chivalry.


Lilamani


Limpid jewel of delight
Severed from the tender night
Of your sheltering mother-mine,
Leap and sparkle, dance and shine,
Blithely and securely set
In love's magic coronet.
Living jewel, may you be
Laughter-bound and sorrow-free.
451

To A Buddha Seated On A Lotus

To A Buddha Seated On A Lotus

LORD BUDDHA, on thy Lotus-throne,
With praying eyes and hands elate,
What mystic rapture dost thou own,
Immutable and ultimate?
What peace, unravished of our ken,
Annihilate from the world of men?


The wind of change for ever blows
Across the tumult of our way,
To-morrow's unborn griefs depose
The sorrows of our yesterday.
Dream yields to dream, strife follows strife,
And Death unweaves the webs of Life.


For us the travail and the heat,
The broken secrets of our pride,
The strenuous lessons of defeat,
The flower deferred, the fruit denied;
But not the peace, supremely won,
Lord Buddha, of thy Lotus-throne.


With futile hands we seek to gain
Our inaccessible desire,
Diviner summits to attain,
With faith that sinks and feet that tire;
But nought shall conquer or control
The heavenward hunger of our soul.


The end, elusive and afar,
Still lures us with its beckoning flight,
And all our mortal moments are
A session of the Infinite.
How shall we reach the great, unknown
Nirvana of thy Lotus-throne?
546

The Song Of Princess Zeb-Un-Nissa In Praise Of Her Own Beauty

The Song Of Princess Zeb-Un-Nissa In Praise Of Her Own Beauty

WHEN from my cheek I lift my veil,
The roses turn with envy pale,
And from their pierced hearts, rich with pain,
Send forth their fragrance like a wail.


Or if perchance one perfumed tress
Be lowered to the wind's caress,
The honeyed hyacinths complain,
And languish in a sweet distress.


And, when I pause, still groves among,
(Such loveliness is mine) a throng
Of nightingales awake and strain
Their souls into a quivering song.
452

The Royal Tombs Of Golconda

The Royal Tombs Of Golconda

I MUSE among these silent fanes
Whose spacious darkness guards your dust;
Around me sleep the hoary plains
That hold your ancient wars in trust.


I pause, my dreaming spirit hears,
Across the wind's unquiet tides,
The glimmering music of your spears,
The laughter of your royal brides.


In vain, O Kings, doth time aspire
To make your names oblivion's sport,
While yonder hill wears like a tier
The ruined grandeur of your fort.


Though centuries falter and decline,
Your proven strongholds shall remain
Embodied memories of your line,
Incarnate legends of your reign.


O Queens, in vain old Fate decreed
Your flower-like bodies to the tomb;
Death is in truth the vital seed
Of your imperishable bloom


Each new-born year the bulbuls sing
Their songs of your renascent loves;
Your beauty wakens with the spring
To kindle these pomegranate groves.
841

The Pardah Nashin

The Pardah Nashin

HER life is a revolving dream
Of languid and sequestered ease;
Her girdles and her fillets gleam
Like changing fires on sunset seas;
Her raiment is like morning mist,
Shot opal, gold and amethyst.


From thieving light of eyes impure,
From coveting sun or wind's caress,
Her days are guarded and secure
Behind her carven lattices,
Like jewels in a turbaned crest,
Like secrets in a lover's breast.


But though no hand unsanctioned dares
Unveil the mysteries of her grace,
Time lifts the curtain unawares,
And Sorrow looks into her face . . .
Who shall prevent the subtle years,
Or shield a woman's eyes from tears?
726

The Poet's Love-Song

The Poet's Love-Song

In noon-tide hours, O Love, secure and strong,
I need thee not; mad dreams are mine to bind
The world to my desire, and hold the wind
A voiceless captive to my conquering song.
I need thee not, I am content with these:
Keep silence in thy soul, beyond the seas!


But in the desolate hour of midnight, when
An ectasy of starry silence sleeps
And my soul hungers for thy voice, O then,
Love, like the magic of wild melodies,
Let thy soul answer mine across the seas.
573

The Illusion of Love

The Illusion of Love

Beloved, you may be as all men say
Only a transient spark
Of flickering flame set in loam of clay –
I care not …since you kindle all my dark
With the immortal lustres of the day.


And as all men deem, dearest, you may be
Only a common shell
Chance-winnowed by the sea-winds from the sea –
The subtle murmurs of eternity.


And tho’ you are, like men or mortal race,
Only a hapless thing
That Death may mar and destiny efface –
I care not … since unto my heart you bring
The very vision of God’s dwelling-place.
304

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