humara bharat hamari janni
humari dharti humara desh
kaise ho maa tere sukhe nayan
kaise ho maa tere rukhe kesh
kaise ho maa tera dhul ka aasan
kaise ho maa tera malin vesh
tees koti santan jiski
milke pukare humara desh

kaisa hai dukh kaisi hai chinta
kaisi hai lazza hai kaisa hai klesh
tees koti ek swar me
milke pukare humara desh
humara desh humara desh

jaagi yahi thi budh ki aatma
kholne ko mukti dwar
chaya hua hai aadhe jagat par
aaj bhi unki bhakti ka saz
tere ashok ne shok mitaya
yash failaya desh videsh
uski nahi thi mata tu janni
uska nahi tha maa ye desh
kaisa hai dukh kaisi hai chinta
kaisi hai lazza hai kaisa hai klesh
tees koti ek swar me
milke pukare humara desh
humara desh humara desh

gunji yahi thi mandiro me
tere nimay ki manjul taan
nyay vidhan diya raghuwar ne
gaaye the chandidas ne gaan
tere partap ne sir na jhukaya
kya hai nahi uska dhanya desh
dhanya hai mata apni nasho me
agar hai unka rakt shesh
kaisa hai dukh kaisi hai chinta
kaisi hai lazza hai kaisa hai klesh
tees koti ek swar me
milke pukare humara desh
humara desh humara desh

jo kahi maa tere sundar mukh par
chayega dukh ka andhera ghor
hat jayenge kale badal
jaag uthegi aasha ki bhor
hamko mitani maa teri kalikh
prano se pyara humko swdesh
devi se pawan pooja se nirmal
swarg se sundar humara desh
kaisa hai dukh kaisi hai chinta
kaisi hai lazza hai kaisa hai klesh
tees koti ek swar me
milke pukare humara desh
humara desh humara desh
humara desh humara desh

Our India, our Mother,
Our earth, our cherished land,
How dry, Mother, are your eyes?
How parched, Mother, your unbound hair?
How dusty, Mother, your seat?
How stained, Mother, your attire?
Thirty million children, yours,
United, call, "Our land!"

What sorrow, what worry,
What shame, what anguish, what strife?
Thirty million voices, as one,
United, call, "Our land!"
Our land, our land.

Here awoke the Buddha's soul,
To open the doors of release,
Still shadows the half of the world,
The symphony of his devotion.
Your Ashoka banished sorrow,
Spread glory across the lands.
Was he not your son, Mother?
Was this not his land, Mother?
What sorrow, what worry,
What shame, what anguish, what strife?
Thirty million voices, as one,
United, call, "Our land!"
Our land, our land.

Here echoed the temples,
The sweet melodies of your saints.
Justice given by the noble King,
Chandidas sang his hymns of praise.
Your Pratap never bowed his head,
What is not blessed in his land?
Blessed, Mother, are our veins,
If their blood still runs within.
What sorrow, what worry,
What shame, what anguish, what strife?
Thirty million voices, as one,
United, call, "Our land!"
Our land, our land.

If, upon your lovely face, Mother,
Darkness of sorrow descends,
The black clouds will depart,
And the dawn of hope will rise.
We must erase, Mother, your stain,
Our homeland, dearer than life.
Purer than a goddess, cleaner than prayer,
Our land, more beautiful than heaven.
What sorrow, what worry,
What shame, what anguish, what strife?
Thirty million voices, as one,
United, call, "Our land!"
Our land, our land.
Our land, our land.