A Bengali Song, a Border State, and a Political Storm

When an 80-year-old Congress worker sang Tagore’s ‘Amar Sonar Bangla’ in Assam, politics turned melody into a faultline. But beneath the noise lies a question about belonging and shared heritage.

When a Song Becomes a Faultline

In Sribhumi, Assam, a short clip of Bidhu Bhushan Das, an 80-year-old Congress Seva Dal leader, singing “Amar Sonar Bangla, Ami Tomay Bhalobasi” sparked a full-blown political controversy.

The BJP’s Assam unit accused Congress of “singing Bangladesh’s national anthem” just days after Dhaka was accused of publishing a map that included parts of India’s Northeast. Assam minister Ashok Singhal called it proof of Congress’s “Bangladesh obsession.”

The Congress countered, saying Das was singing a Rabindrasangeet — a Tagore composition from before independence — as a cultural expression, not a political statement. MP Gaurav Gogoi defended him: “He has hoisted the Indian flag every Independence Day. This was about language, not loyalty.”

On the surface, this is another round of BJP–Congress sparring. But the tension reveals a deeper question about cultural identity in border states — can one express love for a shared heritage without being accused of disloyalty?

The Context: A Song Older Than Borders

“Amar Sonar Bangla” wasn’t written for Bangladesh. Tagore composed it in 1905, during Bengal’s first partition under British rule, to protest a division based on religion. It celebrated the land’s rivers and fields — symbols of unity and belonging.

When Bangladesh chose it as its national anthem in 1971, it was because it embodied Bengali identity and cultural defiance — not nationalism against India.

That’s what makes the current debate so complicated: a song written to unite Bengalis is now being used to divide them.

The Local Context: Identity Politics in Assam’s Borderlands

The controversy also reflects the fault lines of Assam’s Barak Valley, where nearly 80% of the population is Bengali-speaking. Many are descendants of families displaced by the 1947 and 1971 partitions.

For them, Tagore is not foreign. His songs are part of daily life — sung at school events, weddings, and festivals. But in a state where migration and identity are politically charged issues, cultural symbols can be easily reinterpreted.

Over the years, tensions around the NRC, Citizenship Amendment Act, and migration from Bangladesh have blurred distinctions between Bengali Indians and Bangladeshi migrants.

So when Das sang “Amar Sonar Bangla,” he wasn’t just expressing culture — he was inadvertently entering a space where culture and politics collide.

The People: A Patriotic Song, a Political Narrative

Das, a lifelong Congress worker and retired schoolteacher, has lived in Assam all his life. He’s known locally for his Independence Day flag hoisting at Indira Bhavan. His intent was cultural, not political.

But in today’s environment, intent matters less than optics.

To the BJP, the moment reinforced a narrative of Congress being “soft on Bangladesh.”

To the Congress, defending Das became an exercise in damage control — insisting the song was Tagore’s, not Dhaka’s.

Yet both positions overlook the broader point: a Bengali song, written before either India or Bangladesh existed, is now being judged through the lens of present-day nationalism.

The BIGSTORY Reframe:

The controversy reflects a wider discomfort in India’s political climate — where cultural plurality is often mistaken for political disloyalty.

“Amar Sonar Bangla” belongs to the Bengali language, not to a flag. But in a political environment where identity is policed through national boundaries, any overlap between cultures can be seen as threat.

In reality, this isn’t about Bangladesh. It’s about how modern India defines belonging in regions where history, migration, and culture have never fit neatly inside state borders.

When Das sang Tagore, he wasn’t rejecting India. He was affirming something older — a shared cultural memory that existed before Partition. The fact that this act can now trigger a political storm shows how fragile India’s confidence in its diversity has become.

What Happens Next

The Congress has distanced itself from the controversy, calling the BJP’s reaction “manufactured outrage.” The BJP continues to link it to border tensions and national security.

No legal action has been taken against Das, but the debate has opened up a larger cultural divide — especially in Assam’s border districts, where regional, linguistic, and national identities frequently overlap.

The issue is unlikely to fade soon. Every controversy like this reinforces a message: India’s regional languages and identities are being asked to constantly prove their patriotism.

The Question That Remains

If a song written by an Indian Nobel laureate, decades before independence, can be treated as foreign — what does that say about how India now defines “Indian”?

Culture doesn’t stop at borders. But politics often does.

And that’s the paradox the ‘Amar Sonar Bangla’ row has exposed:

a nation that celebrates Tagore’s “Jana Gana Mana” may still struggle to make peace with the Tagore who belongs to everyone.

FAQs

1. Why did the controversy start?

Because Bidhu Bhushan Das, an Assam Congress leader, sang “Amar Sonar Bangla”, which is also Bangladesh’s national anthem. BJP leaders interpreted it as political messaging.

2. Is it illegal to sing another country’s anthem in India?

No. Indian law does not prohibit singing or performing songs that are also anthems of other nations — context and intent matter.

3. What’s the cultural importance of “Amar Sonar Bangla”?

It was written by Rabindranath Tagore in 1905 to protest Bengal’s partition. Bangladesh later adopted it for its cultural symbolism, not its political geography.

4. Why is the controversy sharper in Assam?

Because Assam’s politics are deeply tied to language and migration. In Bengali-majority Barak Valley, even cultural expressions are often viewed through political lenses.

5. What does this mean for India’s cultural diversity?

It highlights the growing challenge of balancing national identity with regional and linguistic pride — especially in states shaped by partition and migration.