A state song is more than a ceremonial tune. It is a symbol of identity, belonging and the political community that a state represents. Across India, states have adopted official songs to celebrate their languages, cultures, histories and shared civic identities. Such songs, when performed at official, educational and public functions, can strengthen regional pride.
Several Indian states have adopted official state songs, including Andhra Pradesh, Assam, Bihar, Chhattisgarh, Gujarat, Karnataka, Madhya Pradesh, Maharashtra, Manipur, Odisha, Tamil Nadu, Telangana, Uttarakhand and West Bengal. Andhra Pradesh was the first among them to formally adopt a state song in 1975, while Telangana became the latest in 2024. Mizoram is now moving to formally adopt Ro Min Rel Sak Ang Che, composed by Rokunga in 1947, with the state Assembly expected to take up the matter on August 25, 2026. Nagaland, however, has shown no urgency to follow this trend. And, for once, this may be a good thing.
Nagaland is not an ordinary case.
The Naga political question remains unresolved. It predates the creation of the State of Nagaland and continues to involve fundamental questions of Naga identity, history, political rights and the relationship between the Nagas and the Indian Union. In this context, adopting a state song may carry a significance beyond its ceremonial purpose. A state song would, by its very nature, give official expression to the identity of Nagaland as a state. Yet the Naga identity extends well beyond the administrative boundaries of Nagaland. Naga-inhabited areas exist across several present-day states, while the Naga political question concerns a much broader historical and political reality.
This does not mean Nagaland should reject its rich cultural heritage or refrain from celebrating its languages, traditions and history. Nor would adopting a state song automatically diminish the Naga political cause. The concern is one of timing, context and symbolism. At a time when the political question remains unresolved, there is little wisdom in prematurely institutionalising another symbol around the existing administrative framework.
There is, after all, no urgency. A state song is not essential to governance. Nagaland can continue to celebrate its cultural heritage without formally designating a song as the official expression of the state. The wiser course, therefore, may be to wait.
When the Naga political question is finally resolved, there will be greater clarity about the political and constitutional framework within which Naga identity is to be expressed. At that point, the question of a state song can be considered with greater confidence, broader consultation and wider consensus.
For now, Nagaland does not need another symbol that defines where we are. It needs the wisdom to first settle where we are going.
