Kadambari and Jyotirindranath: The muse and the master
It was apparently a simple marriage ceremony, like the ones usually held in the Tagore household. But unknown to all, it was a marriage of great consequence on the Bengali literary psyche. The date was 5th July, 1868, when a nine year old brown complexioned, ordinary looking girl called Hemangini, was married to the brightest and the most handsome among all of Debendranath Tagore's sons, the nineteen year old Jyotirindranath and entered the 'andar mahal' of the Tagores of Jorasanko. The day also happened to be her birthday, which no one of course cared to remember. Her mother had feebly protested against marriage on a birthday, because it was considered inauspicious, but nobody paid any heed to her. In fact, while she lived, few people ever remembered her birthday, even her husband, who was often too busy to return home to wish his wife. What was there to care for a girl who was the puny third daughter of Shyamlal Ganguly? He was a domestic employee of the Tagores and also a distant relative, which they took great care to conceal. All her life, from her birth in 1859, had been spent downstairs of the Jorasanko palace, in the quarters where poor relatives lived. She was neither pretty nor educated. Jyotirindranath had been forced to marry her in accordance with his father's wishes, as the Tagores were 'Pirali' Brahmins, who had become prominent members of the Brahmo Samaj and no Brahmin family of any consequence wanted to marry off their daughter to this family and risk being ostracized. Nevertheless, Hemangini had to be brought up to the standards of the Tagores and she needed a complete overhauling. Her 'old fashioned' name was promptly discarded and she was given the smart name 'Kadambari'. She was arranged to be educated and given training in dressing and social etiquette. Rabindranath never forgot the first glimpse of Kadambari, which he immortalized in his 'Chelebela' (My Boyhood Days):

A new bride came to the house, slender gold bracelets on her delicate brown hands...I circled around her at a safe distance, but I did not dare to go near.

As she grew up, she began to absorb the atmosphere of the Tagore household. Her 'liberal' husband even taught her horse riding. Every evening the couple would ride out to the maidan, leaving the Calcutta high society horrified. Yet, despite all this, the bright, young and handsome Jyotirindranath remained preoccupied in his own world and Kadambari remained a neglected, childless woman, reviled by the women of her own family and exiled in her own world on the lonely second floor apartments and the huge terrace surrounding it.

The only companion in Kadambari's lonely life was her brother-in-law Rabindranath, who was only two years younger than her. They grew up together, spent their early youth together and Kadambari became a mother figure to young Robi after his mother Sarada Devi passed away in 1875. She was also the first person to read his writings and reserved the right to criticize it profusely. Robi nicknamed his Notun Bouthan as 'Hecate', after the Greek goddess of witchcraft and dedicated several of his earlier works to 'Shrimati Hey'. One of his earliest works 'Bhogno Hriday' (The Broken Heart) was dedicated to her. She, in turn, called him 'Bhanu' or the sun, a synonym of Rabi. She possessed a melodious voice and actively participated in the dramas enacted by family members in the huge courtyard. With her characteristic artistic prowess, Kadambari converted the barren terrace into a green oasis with potted palms and seasonal flowers. Evening soirees were held there, when Notun Dada Jyotirindranath played the violin, Robi sang in his treble voice and Kadambari sat there fresh after her evening bath, with flowers in her hair. The garden was aptly named 'Nandan Kanan' (The Garden of Heaven). During the afternoons, when Jyoti was away in the 'kachhari' (the office of the zamindari) and Kadambari had sent him fruits lovingly cut in various shapes, on a silver platter and fruit juice in a glass covered with white lace cloth, Robi sneaked around for some delicious dishes cooked by Notun Bouthan herself in her apartment, for the usual fare from the kitchen of the huge joint family was too horrible for words! Robi then lay down on the 'madur' (mat) on the floor and read out his new poem to his Notun Bouthan, who listened to it attentively while waving the hand-fan continuously. At other times, they read serialized versions of Bankim Chandra's novels in the popular journal 'Banga Darshan'. These idyllic days remained etched forever in Tagore's mind, as did the wonderful days spent in Chandernagore with Notun Dada and Notun Bouthan. Rabindranath never underscored the importance of Jyotirindranath in nurturing his creative talent. Jyoti Dada, the master violinist and pianist, often set tunes to Robi’s early songs, taught him French and created for him a wonderland in which Robi was to reside for the rest of his life.

The days in Chandernagore were spent in large houses by the riverside. The most famous among them being 'Moran Saheber Bagan Bari' (later demolished to form the Gondolpara Jute Mill) and the 'River View', the house beside the famed 'Patal Bari' on the Strand. This house too does not remain now. In his autobiographical gem 'Jiban Smriti' (Recollections of my life), Tagore gives a vivid description of the palatial 'Moran Saheber Bagan Bari'. While remaining here, Rabindranath started writing the novel 'Bou Thakuranir Hat' (published 1883). He started giving tunes to his songs of 'Bhanu Singher Padabali' based on Vidyapati's poems. They went for boat rides, where Jyoti played the violin and Robi sang under the gathering storm clouds 'Bhara badoro maha bhadoro' and Kadambari waited for them at the terrace. Robi sometimes teased Notun Bouthan by swimming out to the Ganga, while she waited anxiously for him on the steps of the ghat, urging him to return. According to the eminent scholar Sukumar Sen, many poems of 'Sandhya Sangeet' were written during this period at the behest of his beloved Notun Bouthan. They had stayed for several months in Chandernagore in 1881, before returning to Jorasanko in November 1881, to attend a family wedding. Famous among the prose writings of this period was 'Bibidha Prasanga'. These are kind of conversational dialogues - Rabindranath and Kadambari speaking to each other. Rabindranath never hid it when the book was published. He writes:

I am dedicating my feelings to a special reader. I am giving you much more which only you can see ! Remember the banks of the Ganga? Those still nights? Those nights flooded with the light of the full moon? Our imaginary world? Our deep conversations in low voice? Those moments when we sat silently beside each other? The gentle morning breeze, the shadowy evenings, the clouded monsoon sky, the rains of Shravan, the songs of Vidyapati? They are all gone ! But their history remains in my emotions...in my writings - you and me will read a different meaning to my words, let all the others think as they will.

Imaginary idyllic worlds do not last forever. After returning to Jorasanko, the pressures of the huge household began to weigh down again. As Jyotirindranath got busy looking after the zamindari, pursuing his new mega business pursuits, indulging in theatre, Kadambari became more and more lonely. Robi was growing up and slowly developing his own circuit. Kadambari had adopted her sister-in-law Swarnakumari's daughter Urmila, but lost her to a freak accident when the infant fell down the stairs. Kadambari became more and more ill and suicidal. She attempted suicide but was saved once. Then, on 19th April, 1884, when the whole house was partying at 'Sarojini', the newly purchased boat-house of Jyotirindranath, who never came to fetch her for the occasion, she consumed a large dose of opium. She passed away on 21st April, 1884. She was only twenty five. It was only four months after Tagore had been married off to the eleven year old Bhabatarini, renamed Mrinalini, from Jessore, another daughter-in-law from an employee's family. The whole matter was hushed up by the patriarch of the Tagore family Debendranath - letters and evidences burnt, Coroner's Court held in the Jorasanko palace itself and appropriate measures taken for no news in the newspapers. Her death remains an enigma for all. The riddle was never solved. Tagore was deeply moved by her death and continued to carry the deep sorrow of loss throughout his life. Years after she had gone, he penned the lyrics 'Tobu mone rekho' (Remember me always; 1887) and often sang 'Amar praner pore chole gelo ke' (The one who went out of my life), evoking the pangs of separation. He even confessed later in his life that the faces of women in his paintings inadvertently almost always resembled his long deceased Notun Bouthan. Today the only memories of her remain in the grained sepia photographs of an elegant lady with full-sleeved 'jacket' blouses, sarees worn in the typical Brahmo style with brooches and of course she remains immortalized in the lines penned by her beloved Robi.