His sons-in-law were no exception. Unlike other familiesthe Thakurs did not send their married daughters away. They kept them along with their husbands in the house. Debendranath spent most of his time away from Calcutta in the hills or in boats on the rivers that meandered all over rural Bengal. But with all his travelling he kept himself informed about everyone and everything in Jorasanko, through letters and messengers.
As of now, Robi was the youngest of Debendranathâs children. A son, named Budh, had been born after him but had died in infancy. Two of Robiâs elder brothers were insane and the others were whimsical and capricious. Disappointed in his older sons, Debendranath had pinned all his hopes on his youngest. He was convinced that, with his exceptional intelligence and robust health, Robi would do well in life. He could qualify as a barrister or pass the ICS examination like his brother Satyendra. That is why Debendranath sent Robi out to England at the age of sixteen, for the first time, sanctioning Rs 150 a month for his expenses. This was later raised to Rs 240âa princely sum even for England.
Robi spent a good part of his first year with Satyendranathâs wife Gyanadanandini Devi who was in England at the time with her children Bibi and Suren. Then, after her return to India, he was left to his own devices. Taking up accommodation as a paying guest with an English lady, he enrolled himself in London University College. He was terribly homesick at first and found it hard to adapt to the country and climate. But, little by little he overcame these negative feelings and began concentrating on his studies. But, just as he started picking up the language and adjusting to his new life his father ordered him to return. The reason for the peremptory recall was that rumours had reached Deben Thakurâs ears that Robi was getting too friendly with his landladyâs daughters; that they sang and danced together, went on picnics and held planchette sessions in darkened rooms. Debendranath was also disturbed by the articles Robi sent regularly for a column entitled âLetters from a Bengali youth in Englandâ in
Bharati
. These articles, in Debendranathâs opinion, were inflammatory and arrogant and struck at the roots of Bengali society and culture. One letter, in particular, titled âSlaves in the Familyâ incensed Debendranath for in it Robi had lashed out at the insensitivity with which the older members treated their younger counterparts in Indian families.
In consequence Robi had to return. He had spent nearly two years in England, wasted a great deal of money and come back without a degree. But was it his fault? Yet everyone looked askance at him and asked pointed questions. Robi had made up his mind then that he would go out to England once again and study at the Bar. No matter how hard the struggle he would return with a degree, he had promised himself. He applied to his father for permission and it was granted. But this time Debendranath took the precaution of sending his eldest daughter Soudaminiâs son Satyaprasad with him. Satyaprasad was two years older than Robi and a very poor student having failed his exams several times. But he was a big step ahead of him in one way. He was a husband and father already. Consequently, he treated his young uncle with a mixture of affection and patronizing condescension. Satyaprasad was full of plans about what he would do on his return from England and he shared these generously with Robi during the first few hours of the journey. He would set up a practice in Sahebpara and take Robi on as his junior. He wouldnât work him too hard. He would leave him enough free time to write all the poetry he wanted. He would leave Jorasanko and rent a beautiful house, fit it up with every luxury suited to the status of a famous barrister etcetera etcetera. But, with the first cramp in his stomach, his plans were drastically altered.
As of now, Robi was the youngest of Debendranathâs children. A son, named Budh, had been born after him but had died in infancy. Two of Robiâs elder brothers were insane and the others were whimsical and capricious. Disappointed in his older sons, Debendranath had pinned all his hopes on his youngest. He was convinced that, with his exceptional intelligence and robust health, Robi would do well in life. He could qualify as a barrister or pass the ICS examination like his brother Satyendra. That is why Debendranath sent Robi out to England at the age of sixteen, for the first time, sanctioning Rs 150 a month for his expenses. This was later raised to Rs 240âa princely sum even for England.
Robi spent a good part of his first year with Satyendranathâs wife Gyanadanandini Devi who was in England at the time with her children Bibi and Suren. Then, after her return to India, he was left to his own devices. Taking up accommodation as a paying guest with an English lady, he enrolled himself in London University College. He was terribly homesick at first and found it hard to adapt to the country and climate. But, little by little he overcame these negative feelings and began concentrating on his studies. But, just as he started picking up the language and adjusting to his new life his father ordered him to return. The reason for the peremptory recall was that rumours had reached Deben Thakurâs ears that Robi was getting too friendly with his landladyâs daughters; that they sang and danced together, went on picnics and held planchette sessions in darkened rooms. Debendranath was also disturbed by the articles Robi sent regularly for a column entitled âLetters from a Bengali youth in Englandâ in
Bharati
. These articles, in Debendranathâs opinion, were inflammatory and arrogant and struck at the roots of Bengali society and culture. One letter, in particular, titled âSlaves in the Familyâ incensed Debendranath for in it Robi had lashed out at the insensitivity with which the older members treated their younger counterparts in Indian families.
In consequence Robi had to return. He had spent nearly two years in England, wasted a great deal of money and come back without a degree. But was it his fault? Yet everyone looked askance at him and asked pointed questions. Robi had made up his mind then that he would go out to England once again and study at the Bar. No matter how hard the struggle he would return with a degree, he had promised himself. He applied to his father for permission and it was granted. But this time Debendranath took the precaution of sending his eldest daughter Soudaminiâs son Satyaprasad with him. Satyaprasad was two years older than Robi and a very poor student having failed his exams several times. But he was a big step ahead of him in one way. He was a husband and father already. Consequently, he treated his young uncle with a mixture of affection and patronizing condescension. Satyaprasad was full of plans about what he would do on his return from England and he shared these generously with Robi during the first few hours of the journey. He would set up a practice in Sahebpara and take Robi on as his junior. He wouldnât work him too hard. He would leave him enough free time to write all the poetry he wanted. He would leave Jorasanko and rent a beautiful house, fit it up with every luxury suited to the status of a famous barrister etcetera etcetera. But, with the first cramp in his stomach, his plans were drastically altered.
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