By Dr Asangba Tzudir
The Union Home Ministry issued a directive on January 28, 2026, mandating that the Indian national Song Vande Mataram be played or sung before the National anthem, Jana Gana Mana, at government functions and schools. This 3-minute 10-second rendition is required for official ceremonies, with mandatory standing, to mark the song’s 150th anniversary. One mandatory protocol is the shift from only the first two stanzas to the full six-stanza version being mandated for official events. The order of precedence is that Vande Mataram must precede the National anthem. The rule applies to official government events, flag hoisting, president, governor arrival and departure, and schools. It also requires the attendees to stand at attention during the performance, similar to the national anthem, though exemptions exist for films and documentaries. The context of the directive is not just the celebration of the 150th anniversary of the composition of Vande Mataram, but also aims to enforce uniform protocol across all Indian states and institutions.
This directive has reignited a familiar constitutional debate situated at an intersection between nationalism, individual freedom and liberty, and India’s plural and diverse fabric. This tension is clearly visible in a Christian dominated state like Nagaland, where the issue was discussed in the State Legislative Assembly and also met with protests led by the Naga Students’ Federation (NSF). The NSF’s position, that its resistance is “not against any faith, but a stand for secularism” deserves careful attention in assessing the implications of such a directive. On the surface, the singing of Vande Mataram may appear to be a benevolent act of patriotic expression considering the references to ‘Motherland’. However, when transformed from a voluntary gesture into a mandated practice, it raises critical constitutional concerns.
India being the largest democracy in the world was not built on enforced uniformity, but on the accommodation and celebration of diversity be it religious, cultural, and ideological. In a Christian-majority state like Nagaland, where certain interpretations of the song’s imagery does not align with prevailing ‘theological’ beliefs, compulsion risks being perceived not as a unifying exercise, but as a form of cultural imposition. This is precisely where the Supreme Court’s ruling in Bijoe Emmanuel v. State of Kerala (1986) (https://indiankanoon.org/doc/1508089/) becomes an instructive case in point. In July 1985, three children Bijoe, Binu Mol, and Bindu Emmanuel were expelled from school for not singing the National Anthem during morning assembly. They belonged to the Jehovah’s Witnesses school, which believes that worshipping anyone other than God is a sin. The Court in its landmark judgment led by Justice O. Chinnappa Reddy upheld the right of students to refrain from singing the National anthem on grounds of religious conscience, provided they maintained respectful silence. The ruling underscored a vital principle that patriotism cannot be legislated through coercion, nor can constitutional freedoms be subordinated to majoritarian expectations of expression.
The logic of Bijoe Emmanuel applies with equal force or even more to the present controversy. If citizens cannot be compelled to sing the National anthem, the case for mandating the National song whose constitutional status can be said to be even less binding becomes even more unsubstantiated.
The debate in the recent Nagaland Legislative Assembly session reflects a deeper unease about the nature of such directives. The issue is not the song itself, but the compulsory practice precedent set in a diverse context. The NSF’s articulation of its protest as a defense of secularism is particularly significant. It reframes the debate and critical conversation away from a simple binary of nationalism and patriotism versus religion, and instead situates it within the larger constitutional commitment that India celebrates. Secularism in India does not mean the erasure of religious identity where there is neither privileging nor imposing any particular cultural expression in a manner that causes burden on the individual’s belief.
In context, for a state that continues to strive and celebrate its distinct historical and cultural identity, any perceived imposition from the Centre especially on matters touching identity, religion and belief only puts the Secular and democratic context of India into question besides that fact that it creates a feeling of exclusion and disrespect thereby deepening feelings of estrangement. What may be ‘imaged’ as a gesture of national unity will produce the opposite effect. Afterall, unity is not forged through compulsion, but through mutual respect and dialogue. While it does not diminish the importance of National symbols or the emotional resonance they carry, the respect for these symbols must arise from conviction, and not through coercion or ‘forced mandates.’ It calls for sensitivity.
Yes, the Constitution protects not only the right to express patriotism, but most importantly it also expresses the right to do so in one’s own way.
In sum, the directive to mandate the singing of Vande Mataram risks undermining the very values it seeks to uphold. A more constitutionally viable approach would be to encourage and persuade rather than prescribe and compel. In a pluralistic country like India, and particularly in states like Nagaland, it really calls for sensitivity which is a minimum necessity.
(Dr. Asangba Tzudir contributes a weekly guest editorial for The Morung Express. Comments can be emailed to asangtz@gmail.com).
