GitanjaliGitanjali (Bengali: গী�তা�ঞ্জলি�) or Song Offerings is a collection of 103 English poems, largely translations, of the Bengali poet Rabindranath Tagore. This volume became very famous in the West, and was widely translated.[1]

Gitanjali (গী�তা�ঞ্জলি� Gitanjoli) is also the title of an earlier Bengali volume (1910) of 157 mostly devotional songs. The word gitanjoli is composed from "git", song, and "anjoli", offering, and thus means – "An offering of songs"; but the word for offering, anjoli, has a strong devotional connotation, so the title may also be interpreted as "prayer offering of song".[1]

The English collection is not a translation of poems from the Bengali volume of the same name. While half the poems (52 out of 103) in the English text were selected from the Bengali volume, others were taken from these works (given with year and number of songs selected for the English text): Gitimallo (1914,17), Noibeddo (1901,15), Khea (1906,11) and a handful from other works. The translations were often radical, leaving out or altering large chunks of the poem and in one instance even fusing two separate poems (song 95, which unifies songs 89,90 of naivedya).

The translations were undertaken prior to a visit to England in 1912, where the poems were extremely well received. A slender volume was published in 1913, with an exhilarating preface by W. B. Yeats. In the same year, based on a corpus of three thin translations, Tagore became the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize, specifically the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Contents [hide] 

1     Poems    2     Legacy   

3     See also   

4     References   

5     External links   

[edit] Poems

The poems of Gitanjali express a largely metaphysical outlook, talking about a union with the "supreme"; but like much western poetry that explores similar themes, the language suggests the union of two earthly lovers. This type of anthropomorphic depiction of celestial love is quite common in the Vaishnava literature of India since the 12th century (see Vidyapati or Jayadeva). Rabindranath Tagore encountered it also in his interactions with the Baul community in rural Bengal. For example, poem 7 in the English volume renders poem 125 from the Bengali Gitanjali, Amar e gan chheŗechhe tar shôkol ôlongkar and talks of heavenly love in terms of the

lover taking off her jewelry, which is getting in the way of the union. See also the poem 18, at the bottom of this page.

Some poems involve themes related to nature, but here, too, the spiritual is subtly present, as in this poem (no. 57), given here along with the Bengali text in Roman script:

Light, my light, the world-filling light, the eye-kissing light, heart-sweetening light!

Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the centre of my life; the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love; the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.

The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light. Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light.

The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling, and it scatters gems in profusion.

Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling, and gladness without measure. The heaven's river has drowned its banks and the flood of joy is abroad.

আলো�� আমা�র আলো�� ওলোগী�, আলো�� ভূ�বন ভূর�আলো�� নয়ন ধো��ওয়� আমা�র আলো�� হৃদয় হর� ।ন�লো� আলো�� ন�লো� ও ভূ�ই, আমা�র প্রা�লো�র কা�লো� -ব�লো� আলো�� ব�লো� ও ভূ�ই, হৃদয়ব���র মা�লো���লোগী আকা�শ, ধো��লো ব�তা�স, হ�লোস সকা� �র� ।আলো��র ধো"�লোতা পা�� তা$ লো�লো� হ���র প্রা��পালিতাআলো��র ধো%উলোয় উঠ� ধোমালোতা মালি(কা� মা��তা� ।ধোমালো) ধোমালো) ধোস�ন�, ও ভূ�ই যা�য়ন� মা�লিনকা ধোগী�ন� -পা�তা�য় পা�তা�য় হ�লিস ও ভূ�ই, পা+�কা র�লিশ র�লিশ ।স+রনদ�র কা, � ডু. লোবলো� স+��-লিন�র-�র�।      - অ���য়তান

      

Alo amar, alo ogo, alo bhubon bhora

alo noyon dhoa amar, alo hridoe hara.Nache alo nache, o bhai, amar praner kachhe --baje alo baje, o bhai, hridoe binar majhe --jage akash, chhoţe batash, hashe shokol dhora.Alor srote pal tulechhe hajar projapoti.Alor đheue uţhlo mete mollika maloti.Meghe meghe shona, o bhai, jae na manik gona --patae patae hashi, o bhai, pulok rashi rashi.Shuronodir kul ḍubechhe shudha-nijhor-jhora.      -Ocholaeoton

[edit] Legacy

In the English-speaking world, the writings of Tagore are no longer widely read. Nonetheless, for millions of Bengali speakers, the Bengali originals continue to resonate, as in this verse:

I stand mesmerized,wondering how you singyour notes hold the world spellbound –the light of your musiclights up my universe.     (sonAn Analysis of Gitanjali Tagoreg 22 of Bengali Gitanjali, song 3 in the English)

An Analysis of Gitanjali Tagore

By Casey Reader, eHow Contributor 

Rabindranath Tagore won a Nobel Prize for his literary work. 

Gitanjali is a collection of poems that were collected and translated from Bengali into English by their author, the Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore, for which he won a Nobel Prize. Once

published, this volume made Tagore into an international celebrity. Perhaps the first modern Indian work to be recognized by readers of another language, Gitanjali also brought recognition to an older tradition of Indian poetry that preceded Tagore and influenced much of his work.

Religion

o In his introduction to the first version of Gitanjali published in 1913, the Irish poet W. B. Yeats enthused over the religious nature of the work. In the tradition of Indian poetry, there was no real difference between writing poetry and engaging in religious practice. As Yeats wrote, it was "a tradition where poetry and religion are the same thing." In the work, Tagore gives accounts of everyday life a greater spiritual significance.

Love

o Many of the poems in Gitanjali are love poems. When talking about the love between two people, Tagore always expands it so that the love takes on a greater meaning, having to do with the nature of the universe. He does this not to diminish the everyday love that can exist between two people, but to show how this kind of love is more deeply woven into the very nature of the world and reality.

Sensualism

o Following both poets within the Indian tradition, and also western poets such as Walt Whitman, Tagore writes very emphatically about sensuality and the enjoyment of the material world. As with Whitman, Tagore does this while at the same time attempting to show how this very enjoyment of physical sensations has a greater spiritual meaning and depth. By doing this, he bridges the gap that is often placed between spiritual enjoyments and more carnal material ones.

Modernism

o Tagore was greatly influenced by both an ancient tradition of Indian poetry and a more modern one that was existing at the time internationally and in the West. Tagore was personal friends with poets such as W.B. Yeats and was a quick study of many modern poets, such as Walt Whitman. Part of the intention of Gitanjali was to introduce these two separate traditions and influences to one another, and then combine the best of both.

INTRODUCTION

A few days ago I said to a distinguished Bengali doctor of medicine, `I know no German, yet if a translation of a German poet had moved me, I would go to the British Museum and find books in English that would tell me something of his life, and of the history of his thought. But though these prose translations from Rabindranath Tagore have stirred my blood as nothing has for years, I shall not know anything of his life, and of the movements of thought that have made them possible, if some Indian traveller will not tell me.' It seemed to him natural that I should be moved, for he said, `I read Rabindranath every day, to read one line of his is to forget all the troubles of the world.' I said, `An Englishman living in London in the reign of Richard the Second had he been shown translations from Petrarch or from Dante, would have found no books to answer his questions, but would have questioned some Florentine banker or Lombard merchant as I question you. For all I know, so abundant and simple is this poetry, the new renaissance has been born in your country and I shall never know of it except by hearsay.' He answered, `We have other poets, but none that are his equal; we call this the epoch of Rabindranath. No poet seems to me as famous in Europe as he is among us. He is as great in music as in poetry, and his songs are sung from the west of India into Burma wherever Bengali is spoken. He was already famous at nineteen when he wrote his first novel; and plays when he was but little older, are still played in Calcutta. I so much admire the completeness of his life; when he was very young he wrote much of natural objects, he would sit all day in his garden; from his twenty-fifth year or so to his thirty-fifth perhaps, when he had a great sorrow, he wrote the most beautiful love poetry in our language'; and then he said with deep emotion, `words can never express what I owed at seventeen to his love poetry. After that his art grew deeper, it became religious and philosophical; all the inspiration of mankind are in his hymns. He is the first among our saints who has not refused to live, but has spoken out of Life itself, and that is why we give him our love.' I may have changed his well-chosen words in my memory but not his thought. `A

little while ago he was to read divine service in one of our churches---we of the Brahma Samaj use your word `church' in English---it was the largest in Calcutta and not only was it crowded, but the streets were all but impassable because of the people.'

Other Indians came to see me and their reverence for this man sounded strange in our world, where we hide great and little things under the same veil of obvious comedy and half-serious depreciation. When we were making the cathedrals had we a like reverence for our great men? `Every morning at three---I know, for I have seen it'---one said to me, `he sits immovable in contemplation, and for two hours does not awake from his reverie upon the nature of God. His father, the Maha Rishi, would sometimes sit there all through the next day; once, upon a river, he fell into contemplation because of the beauty of the landscape, and the rowers waited for eight hours before they could continue their journey.' He then told me of Mr. Tagore's family and how for generations great men have come out of its cradles. `Today,' he said, `there are Gogonendranath and Abanindranath Tagore, who are artists; and Dwijendranath, Rabindranath's brother, who is a great philosopher. The squirrels come from the boughs and climb on to his knees and the birds alight upon his hands.' I notice in these men's thought a sense of visible beauty and meaning as though they held that doctrine of Nietzsche that we must not believe in the moral or intellectual beauty which does not sooner or later impress itself upon physical things. I said, `In the East you know how to keep a family illustrious. The other day the curator of a museum pointed out to me a little dark-skinned man who was arranging their Chinese prints and said, ``That is the hereditary connoisseur of the Mikado, he is the fourteenth of his family to hold the post.'' 'He answered, `When Rabindranath was a boy he had all round him in his home literature and music.' I thought of the abundance, of the simplicity of the poems, and said, `In your country is there much propagandist writing, much criticism? We have to do so much, especially in my own country, that our minds gradually cease to be creative, and yet we cannot help it. If our life was not a continual warfare, we would not have taste, we would not know what is good, we would not find hearers and readers. Four-fifths of our energy is spent in the quarrel with bad taste, whether in our own minds or in the minds of others.' `I understand,' he replied, `we too have our propagandist writing. In the villages they recite long mythological poems adapted from the Sanskrit in the Middle Ages, and they often insert passages telling the people that they must do their duties.'

I have carried the manuscript of these translations about with me for days, reading it in railway trains, or on the top of omnibuses and in restaurants, and I have often had to close it lest some stranger would see how much it moved me. These lyrics---which are in the original, my Indians tell me, full of subtlety of rhythm, of untranslatable delicacies of colour, of metrical invention---display in their thought a world I have dreamed of all my live long. The work of a supreme culture, they yet appear as much the growth of the common soil as the grass and the rushes. A tradition, where poetry and religion are the same thing, has passed through the centuries, gathering from learned and unlearned metaphor and emotion, and carried back again to the multitude the thought of the scholar and of the noble. If the civilization of Bengal remains unbroken, if that common mind which---as one divines---runs through all, is not, as with us, broken into a dozen minds that know nothing of each other, something even of what is most subtle in these verses will have come, in a few generations, to the beggar on the roads. When

there was but one mind in England, Chaucer wrote his Troilus and Cressida, and thought he had written to be read, or to be read out---for our time was coming on apace---he was sung by minstrels for a while. Rabindranath Tagore, like Chaucer's forerunners, writes music for his words, and one understands at every moment that he is so abundant, so spontaneous, so daring in his passion, so full of surprise, because he is doing something which has never seemed strange, unnatural, or in need of defence. These verses will not lie in little well-printed books upon ladies' tables, who turn the pages with indolent hands that they may sigh over a life without meaning, which is yet all they can know of life, or be carried by students at the university to be laid aside when the work of life begins, but, as the generations pass, travellers will hum them on the highway and men rowing upon the rivers. Lovers, while they await one another, shall find, in murmuring them, this love of God a magic gulf wherein their own more bitter passion may bathe and renew its youth. At every moment the heart of this poet flows outward to these without derogation or condescension, for it has known that they will understand; and it has filled itself with the circumstance of their lives. The traveller in the read-brown clothes that he wears that dust may not show upon him, the girl searching in her bed for the petals fallen from the wreath of her royal lover, the servant or the bride awaiting the master's home-coming in the empty house, are images of the heart turning to God. Flowers and rivers, the blowing of conch shells, the heavy rain of the Indian July, or the moods of that heart in union or in separation; and a man sitting in a boat upon a river playing lute, like one of those figures full of mysterious meaning in a Chinese picture, is God Himself. A whole people, a whole civilization, immeasurably strange to us, seems to have been taken up into this imagination; and yet we are not moved because of its strangeness, but because we have met our own image, as though we had walked in Rossetti's willow wood, or heard, perhaps for the first time in literature, our voice as in a dream.

Since the Renaissance the writing of European saints---however familiar their metaphor and the general structure of their thought---has ceased to hold our attention. We know that we must at last forsake the world, and we are accustomed in moments of weariness or exaltation to consider a voluntary forsaking; but how can we, who have read so much poetry, seen so many paintings, listened to so much music, where the cry of the flesh and the cry of the soul seems one, forsake it harshly and rudely? What have we in common with St. Bernard covering his eyes that they may not dwell upon the beauty of the lakes of Switzerland, or with the violent rhetoric of the Book of Revelations? We would, if we might, find, as in this book, words full of courtesy. `I have got my leave. Bid me farewell, my brothers! I bow to you all and take my departure. Here I give back the keys of my door---and I give up all claims to my house. I only ask for last kind words from you. We were neighbours for long, but I received more than I could give. Now the day has dawned and the lamp that lit my dark corner is out. A summons has come and I am ready for my journey.' And it is our own mood, when it is furthest from `a Kempis or John of the Cross, that cries, `And because I love this life, I know I shall love death as well.' Yet it is not only in our thoughts of the parting that this book fathoms all. We had not known that we loved God, hardly it may be that we believed in Him; yet looking backward upon our life we discover, in our exploration of the pathways of woods, in our delight in the lonely places of hills, in that mysterious claim that we have made, unavailingly on the woman that we have loved, the emotion that created this insidious sweetness. `Entering my heart unbidden even as one of the common crowd, unknown to me, my king, thou didst press the signet of eternity upon many a fleeting moment.' This is no longer the sanctity of the cell and of the scourge; being but a lifting up, as it were, into a greater intensity of the mood of the painter, painting the dust and the

sunlight, and we go for a like voice to St. Francis and to William Blake who have seemed so alien in our violent history.

We write long books where no page perhaps has any quality to make writing a pleasure, being confident in some general design, just as we fight and make money and fill our heads with politics---all dull things in the doing---while Mr. Tagore, like the Indian civilization itself, has been content to discover the soul and surrender himself to its spontaneity. He often seems to contrast life with that of those who have loved more after our fashion, and have more seeming weight in the world, and always humbly as though he were only sure his way is best for him: `Men going home glance at me and smile and fill me with shame. I sit like a beggar maid, drawing my skirt over my face, and when they ask me, what it is I want, I drop my eyes and answer them not.' At another time, remembering how his life had once a different shape, he will say, `Many an hour I have spent in the strife of the good and the evil, but now it is the pleasure of my playmate of the empty days to draw my heart on to him; and I know not why this sudden call to what useless inconsequence.' An innocence, a simplicity that one does not find elsewhere in literature makes the birds and the leaves seem as near to him as they are near to children, and the changes of the seasons great events as before our thoughts had arisen between them and us. At times I wonder if he has it from the literature of Bengal or from religion, and at other times, remembering the birds alighting on his brother's hands, I find pleasure in thinking it hereditary, a mystery that was growing through the centuries like the courtesy of a Tristan or a Pelanore. Indeed, when he is speaking of children, so much a part of himself this quality seems, one is not certain that he is not also speaking of the saints, `They build their houses with sand and they play with empty shells. With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of worlds. They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while children gather pebbles and scatter them again. They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.'

W.B. YEATS September 1912

Gitanjali

Gitanjali- R. Tagore

View: Page 1

Gitanjali is one of Tagore’s most famous works.

It was Gitanjali which lead to Tagore being the first Asian to be awarded the Nobel Prize for literature.

Gitanjali embodies the essence of Tagore’s poetic spirit.

‘They come with their laws and their codes to bind me fast; but Ievade them ever, for I am only waiting for love to give myself upat last into his hands.’

From Gitanjali page 10

In the introduction to Gitanjali, W.B Yeats says of Tagore’s poetry

‘At every moment the heart of this poet flows outward to these withoutderogation or condescension, for it has known that they willunderstand; and it has filled itself with the circumstance oftheir lives.’

‘An innocence, a simplicity that one does not find elsewhere in literature makes the birds and the leaves seem as near to him as they are near tochildren, and the changes of the seasons great events as beforeour thoughts had arisen between them and us.’

krishna-agr...

Teacher

Graduate School

Valedictorian, Teaching Assistant, Tutor

Gitanjali is a collection of poems written by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941). It was originally written in Bengali, a regional language in India. Later it was translated in English by Tagore himself. The title Gitanjali means an offering of songs. This book was awarded Nobel Prize for Literature in 1913.

Rabindranath is one of the greatest intellectuals of modern India. Tagore was a prolific writer who produced 26 volumes of poems, stories, novels, plays, and essays. But writing was just one part of his multifaceted Genius. He was a great composer of Music. He staged and acted in plays, indulged in painting and making handicrafts. He was highly spiritualistic and this aspect of his personality comes out very clearly in Gitanjali. But at the same time he was a very practical person who led a life full of physical activities. To spread his ideas he started in 1901 an experimental school called Shantiniketan. The name Shantiniketan means abode of peace.

Gitanjali

A masterpiece by the essence of Bengali poetry, Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore.

Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore, also known as "Bishwa-Kabi"(poet of the world), is a legendary figure in the rich literature of Bengal. His genius traveled far and wide. Tagore was the first Asian to be awarded the Nobel Prize for literature for the collection of his poems- Gitanjali (an offering of songs).

Bengali or Bangla is a member of the Indo-European family of languages. Spoken by around 270 million people across the globe; It born from a form of Prakrit or Middle Indo-Aryan language.

The Bengali script has been derived from the Brahmi alphabet of the Ashokan inscriptions (273 to 232BC). It is more than just a language; it’s a door to the rich literary heritage of Bengal.

Bengali literary heritage is deeply knotted with the classical Indo-Aryan Sanskrit language and literature. History of Bengali language divided into three eras – Old Bengali (950-1350), Middle Bengali (1350-1800) and Modern Bengali (1800 to the present day). Charva songs written by Buddhist Siddhacharyas (enlightened) ones, is a compilation of forty-eight poems. It forms the most important part of Old Bengali literature. Descriptive, story based poetry inspired by religion was the essence of Middle Bengali. Krittivas' Ramayan, Srikrishnavijaya by Maladhar Vasu and Srikrishnakirttan by Baru Chandidas are considered classics of this era. Vaishnavism influenced a fusion of music and poetry towards the end of this period. In the Eighteenth century, Rameshvar Bhattacharya's description of Shiva as a poor farmer in Sivasankirttan marked the development of secular and narrative writing.

The nineteenth century saw a literary revitalization in Bengal. Modern Bengali poets like Michael Madhusudan Datta and Bankim Chandra Chatterjee laid the foundation of modern Bengali literature. The real progress happened in the latter half of the nineteenth century, with literature encompassing romance, social realism, drama, literary prose and politics coming to the forefront. Digdarshan (a monthly magazine) and Samachardarpan (a weekly) marked the arrival of periodical press. Bankim Chandra, Peary Chand Mitra, Girishchandra Ghosh , Amritlal Bose, D L Ray and Ishwarchandra Vidyasagar were some of the well known literary figures of this century.

Rabindranath Tagore is one of the most illustrious names etched on the literary history of Bengal. A poet, novelist, short-story writer, dramatist, essayist and literary critic; he was the first Indian to receive a Nobel Prize for translated version of his series of song-poems, Gitanjali.

Tagore's works include 28 volumes of poetry, stories, novels, operas, essays and diaries, 2,500 songs. His works talked of universal harmony and spiritual sovereignty; regardless of the nature, culture, race and nationality of the human. W.B. Yeats described him,

"Tagore was the product of a whole people, a whole civilization, immeasurably strange to us, and seems to have been taken up into this imagination; and yet we are not moved because of its strangeness, but because we have met our own image, as though we had walked in or heard perhaps for the first time in literature, our voice as in a dream"

Gitanjali, a collection of 103 English poems (Bengali version had 157 poems), with an heady prefaces by WB Yeats; was enormously well received everywhere. It is one of the most famous works of Tagore. The poems in Gitanjali bear spiritual and metaphysical essence. They talk about the aspirations of the human soul for meeting the divine. The element of celestial and heavenly love takes inspiration from the Vaishnava literature of ancient India (12th Century).

As the name suggests, Gitanjali is an offering of devotional songs to the supreme. The strong spiritual essence of Gitanjali is evident from the following extracts

"My debts are large, my failures great, my shame secret and heavy; yet I come to ask for my good, I quake in fear lest my prayer be granted."

Poem 28, English Volume

"In this playhouse of infinite forms I have had my play, and here have I caught sight of him that is formless."

Poem 96, English Volume

Tagore was a humanist to the core. He criticized imperialism of any kind and was very critical of the British rule in India. However, he also disapproved of against any violence in the name of

nationalism. He wrote, "Patriotism cannot be our final spiritual shelter; my refuge is humanity. I will not buy glass for the price of diamond, and I will never allow patriotism to triumph over humanity as long as I live." It was the universal appeal in his words that reached out to the world transcending the boundaries of regions and beliefs.

His poetry talks of the liberation of human mind and spirit from all fears. It abandons the doubts and embraces the reasons. The following poem from Gitanjali expresses his values clearly-

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;Where knowledge is free;Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;Where words come out from the depth of the truth;Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and actionInto that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

The features of his poetry that got enthusiastic appreciation, to quote an English critic's opinion, "combines at once the feminine grace of poetry with the virile power of prose"

Gitanjali was a reflection of Tagore’s poetic character. It is 157 elements of chaste devotion for the almighty. The poems flow like different notes of an orchestra. In fact, Gitanjali is more appropriately a collection of songs. The innate rhythm in the words of Tagore makes reading it a profound and intense spiritual experience. As in the introduction to Gitanjali, W.B Yeats says of Tagore’s poetry:

"At every moment the heart of this poet flows outward to these without derogation or condescension, for it has known that they will understand; and it has filled itself with the circumstance of their lives."

http://www.nyu.edu/classes/keefer/twenty/sujit.html

http://www.poetseers.org/nobel_prize_for_literature/tagore/git/intro

http://nobelprize.org/literature/laureates/1913/press.html

others his own.

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Gitanjali (or Gitanjoli) is the title of what is probably the best-known poetry collection by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), for which he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1913. Tagore was a native of Kolkata (Calcutta) and he wrote in Bengali. Gitanjali translates as “song offerings”, although the word “anjali” translates more closely as “offered prayers”, so the songs being offered should, in Western eyes, be seen rather more as devotions than as secular songs.

The collection was originally compiled in 1910 as a set of poems in Bengali, but Tagore, who had spent two years in England as a law student, translated these into English for a volume that

was finally published in 1912. However, of the 103 poems in the English volume, only 52 came from the original Bengali collection. He added translations from three other collections, some of the poems of which had been written more than ten years previously. The translations were not necessarily made directly from a Bengali poem into an English one; considerable editing was done, with new material added and, on one occasion, two Bengali poems were fused together to make a single English poem.

Tagore visited England again in 1912, taking the manuscript with him, although publication was not his prime motive. He met and mixed with the intelligentsia of London, who came to know his work and greatly admired it. One of them was the Irish poet and near-contemporary W. B. Yeats, who wrote a generous preface to the volume when it was published in 1913.

It is easy to see why Yeats so admired Tagore’s work, as the former would have seen in Gitanjali much of the metaphysical spirit of his own work at that time. However, it is also possible that Yeats saw in Tagore more mysticism than was actually there. Yeats was smitten by the “mystical East”, but Tagore was in many ways a Westernised Indian. The British Raj was at its height during Tagore’s time, with Calcutta one of its main centers. Tagore was a wealthy member of the Brahmin caste, and therefore in regular contact with British rulers and educators. Although he drew on ancient myths and legends for his material, he was by no means a guru or ascetic sitting under a lotus tree and giving forth words of wisdom.

One problem with Gitanjali is that Tagore chose to use old-fashioned “thee” and “thine” modes of address instead of “you” and “your”. This gave the poems a loftiness and archaism that they would not have had otherwise. The poems are intensely personal, some addressed to a deity and others to a human beloved. However, the tone is very similar, whoever is addressed, leading to the conviction that human and divine love are to be seen in the same light. Indeed, Tagore’s message is that it is through human love that love for the divine can be achieved. There are echoes of the poetry of John Donne, or even the Song of Solomon, in the allegorical mixing of human and divine love.

Wherethe mind is without fear

The original Bengali version of this poem was entitled "Prayer" and this is basically what it is. It is often interpreted as a plea for India's independence from Britain, but I think the political overtones are just a metaphor for ideas that are really more fundamental. The human mind tend to enslave itself through fear, habit, dogma, and basically just narrow-mindedness of various sorts. The mind/knowledge is not free so long as it flees from itself – the truth of its Being. In this case, "fleeing" takes the form of building walls to protect itself from what it perceives to be an invading enemy, but which in fact is the truth of its own Being. We hide behind walls that we think are protecting us from an enemy, but these walls are actually a sort of prison that we have built for ourselves. The truth of our Being is a Unity, and it is the implications of this Unity that the mind tends to fear. Thus we shatter the Unity into fragments by building the "narrow domestic walls" referred to in the poem. Again, the overt message seems political (as in the political boundaries of the Indian nation) but the deeper message is spiritual, and more fundamental to the nature of human existence. The same can be said for the "heaven of freedom" into which he wants his country to awaken. Again it is political on the surface (freedom from Britain) but 

spiritual in its deeper meaning (freedom from the prison we build for ourselves through fear and the "dreary desert sand of dead habit").

As an aside, you might wonder: What is it, really, that we fear? I've referred to the depths or Truth and Unity, but why should we fear Truth and Unity? Tagor does not address that question is this little poem, but here is my own interpretation (with which, I believe, Tagor might roughly agree). I've been using the word 'Unity' because Tagor's prayer is for the mind to reconnect with the world in such a way that it is no longer "broken up into fragments" – implying that the Mind and the World are primordially One. This Oneness, however, implies that insofar as my deepest metaphysical essence is concerned I cannot really blame "others" for my suffering because those "others" are in some sense really just projections of my own nature. My "enemies" are, in Truth, various manifestation of my Self. Why should this be a problem? Why should I fear this knowledge? If my enemies are really just projections of my Self, then this should be GOOD news because it means I ought to be able to get control over them and stop my suffering by just getting control over my Self. But here, exactly, is the problem: I don't not consciously know how to get control over my enemies, which means that I don't know how to get control over my Self, which means that I really don't know how to stop my suffering. And furthermore, Oneness implies that there is no "other" to save me – I must ultimately save myself. The complete burden is upon me, insofar as my Self is One with the world. The fate of all existence rests, so to speak, upon me – not my temporal human ego, but my eternal Self which is the deep essence that we all share. Basically I fear the knowledge that – as the Unity of Self/Existence – all of the world's suffering is my suffering and the burden of responsibility is ultimately upon "me" (not just my mere ego, but my deeper Self) to stop the suffering. This is a frightening thought. We don't want the responsibility of being our own savior; we want a God to save us and make everything ok. So rather than confront the stark reality of our own deep freedom and responsibility, we fragment the world – we build walls to make it seem like parts of ourselves are really "other". We can blame the "other" (in the form of our enemies) for our suffering, and have faith that a great "other" (in the form of God) will ultimately save us and make everything come out all right. The walls we construct become our habitual ways of thinking, and this habitual way of thinking muddies and diverts the pure waters of reason, so we no longer experience the "clear stream of reason" that Tagor refers to in the poem.

Critical Analysis of Where the Mind Is Without FearIn the poem, ‘Where The Mind Is Without Fear’, Tagore sketches a moving picture of the nation he would like India to be. Where everyone within the fold of the brotherhood is free to hold up one’s head high and one’s voice to be heard without having any tension of fear of oppression or forced compulsion. Where the knowledge is not restricted by narrow ideas and loyalties. He felt, that the British rule had robbed India of its pride and dignity by reducing it to a subject nation.

The India of Tagore’s dream is a country where her people hold their heads high with their pride in knowledge and strength born of that knowledge. Where all countrymen must come out of   their shell and not be people who have lost the vision of humanity by the narrow loyalties of caste creed and religion. Prejudice and superstitious which narrow the mind and divide people would be a thing of the past. Where the words of truth come out from the depths of the heart and are spoken out courageously 

in the open for the world to hear. People would work for perfections in the clear light of reason leaving aside all superstitious rituals. 

Where everyone is free to toil and work hard for anything they desire either for their own or for the good of the nation. Everyone is encouraged to strive tirelessly till they attain full satisfaction in reaching their goals and perfection.   Where blind superstitious habits of thought and action have not put out the light of reason. Where people’s mind should not dwell in the mistakes of the past nor be possessed by it. On the other hand they should be led by the power of reasoning to be focused on the future by applying scientific thought and action. Tagore’s only prayer to the Supreme Ultimate is leading the nation to such an ideal state of heaven.   It is only by the universality of outlook and an abiding passion for the realization of great human ideals that India will achieve her true freedom. This way alone she will realize her destiny.

Review on “Beggarly Heart” by Rabindranath TagoreTagore chants this little prayer from his heart especially for those who are spiritually challenged and waits with great expectation for a benefitting and satisfying answer from God. When the heart is hard and parched up; make or become dry through intense heat: extremely thirsty; come upon Him with a shower of mercy. When grace is lost from life, come with a burst of song. When tumultuous; very loud or uproarious: excited, confused, or disorderly; work raises its din; a loud, unpleasant, and prolonged noise: (din something into) instill information into (someone) by constant repetition: make a din; on all sides shutting him out from beyond, come to him, his lord of silence, with his peace and rest. Before answering anybody’s prayer God keeps His silence for reasons unknown. Then at the moment that we least expect, things start moving in a mighty way that will start transforming all areas in our lives and around us. When his beggarly heart; meagre and ungenerous: poverty-stricken; sits crouched; adopt a position where the knees are bent and the upper body is brought forward and down: (crouch over) bend over so as to be close to: a crouching stance or posture; shut up in a corner, break open the door, his king, and come with the ceremony of a king. When desire blinds the mind with delusion; an idiosyncratic belief or impression that is not in accordance with a generally accepted reality: the action of deluding or being deluded; and dust, God-the Supreme Ultimate-He is the holy one, He is wakeful, come with His light and His thunder. These are the signs that God will reply in a mighty way.

Source: http://www.shvoong.com/books/poetry/2047721-review-beggarly-heart-rabindranath-tagore/#ixzz22hGllQ5U

Summary of Rabindranath Tagore's-'Where the Mind Is Without Fear'This poem in this selection has been taken from his English ‘Gitanjali’. Tagore had a very deep religious caste of mind and profound humanism. He was both a patriot and an internationalist. In the poem, ‘Where The Mind Is Without Fear’, Tagore sketches a moving picture of the nation he would like India to be. Where everyone within the fold of the brotherhood is free to hold up one’s head high and one’s voice to be heard without having any tension of fear of oppression or forced compulsion.  Where the knowledge is not restricted by narrow ideas and loyalties. The British rule had robbed India of its pride and dignity by reducing it to a subject nation.                The India of Tagore’s dream is a country where her people hold their heads high with their pride in knowledge and strength born of that knowledge. Where all countrymen must come out the aged-old world of people who have lost the vision of one humanity by the narrow loyalties of caste creed and religion. Prejudice and superstitious which narrow the mind and divide people would be a thing of the past. Where the words of truth come out from the depths of the heart and are spoken out courageously in the open for the world to hear. People would work for perfections in the clear light of reason leaving aside all superstitious rituals.                Where everyone is free to toil and work hard for anything they desire either for their own or for the good of the nation. Everyone is encouraged to strive tirelessly till they attain full satisfaction in reaching their goals and perfection.  Where blind superstitious habits of thought and action have not put out the light of reason. Where people’s mind should not dwell in the mistakes of the past nor be possessed by it. On the other hand they should be led by the power of reasoning to be focused on the future by applying scientific thought and action. Tagore’s only prayer to the Supreme Ultimate is leading the nation to such an ideal state of heaven.  It is only by the universality of outlook and an abiding passion for the realization of great human ideals that India will achieve her true freedom. This way alone she will realize her destiny.

Source: http://www.shvoong.com/books/poetry/2016071-summary-rabindranath-tagore-mind-fear/#ixzz22hHlvekN