Rabindranath composed the poem “Shivaji’s Utsav”, inspired
by the Shivaji festival introduced by Balgangadhar Tilak in Bengal.
Shivaji has been a favorite of Vishwaguru. In 1897, he wrote a poem “Pratinidhi” where
he sand paean to the idealized form of kingship which was preached by saint Ramdas to his
disciple Shivaji.
In the introduction to “Shivaji o Maratha jati”
(1908) written by Sarat kumar Roy, Rabindranth wrote, “the whole Maharashtra
was deeply plunged in intense religious fervor and Shivaji emerged out of that movement.
For this reason while he was blessed by the united power of his nation, it
becomes true in viceversa. If shivaji was a mere genius in robbery and used his
powers for his self-interest, it could never unite the whole Maratha nation."
Following are the excerpts from the poem Sivaji's Utsav:
In what far away century on what unmarked day
I no longer know today
Upon what mountain peak, in darkened forests,
Oh King Shivaji,
Did this thought light up your brow as a touch of lightning
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 her 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.
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.
That 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.
And 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.
Where 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!
The 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,
This is how they know you today.
Silence your garrulous words, false account
Thou art filled with lies,
Your writ shall be erased by the truth the Creator scribes
That alone shall prevail.
For 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.
Oh 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.
The 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.
For 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.
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