Title: The Man Who Knew Infinity – A Life of the Genius Ramanujan
Author: Robert Kanigel
Publisher: Abacus,
2008 (First published 1991)
ISBN: 978-0-349-10452-2
Pages: 373
Every Indian has heard about
Ramanujan. Even those who cringe at the thought of mathematics would
vociferously point out to him as the man who made India proud at his
mathematical talent. He was extremely capable, no doubt, but India failed to
recognise his genius and only after he was acknowledged as worthy of attention
by a few British academicians did we relent to provide him with resources to
pursue his interest without undue concern about his family. This point brings
out one issue in vivid detail – our inability to rely on our own judgement.
Indians, as a whole still depend on – or appears to depend on – foreign opinion
on what is good or bad for them! This aspect is particularly recognised by
man-gods who are so numerous today and making good money by fleecing the
faithful. One prominent feature of their marketing ploy is to make it appear that
the ashram, or abode of the spiritual leader is frequented by foreigners or
that the guru is well appreciated abroad, which his foreign trips would duly
attest to. Coming back to our book, Ramanujan was also a product of British
observation and judgement, so to say. The book portrays all aspects of his
short life in true detail. The author, Robert Kanigel is a professor of Science
Writing and Director of the Graduate Program in Science Writing at MIT. He is
the author of many books and his flair is easily seen through the lines.
Srinivasa Ramanujan Iyengar was
born on Dec 22, 1887 at Erode, Tamil Nadu. He was brought up at Kumbakonam and
studied there. After high school, which was not particularly noteworthy, he was
hooked up with a math textbook by G S Carr, which was ordinary in quality. He
lavished his sole attention on math and began neglecting other subjects. He
failed in exams and his scholarship was revoked. After failing to obtain B.A
degree from the colleges in Kumbakonam and Madras, his family made an arranged
marriage for him, with a child bride of 9 years old. Ramanujan had to go in
search for a job, displaying his notebooks in front of worthy patrons who would
support him doing it. Though he had no academic qualifications to show off, he
eventually found a patron in Ramachandra Rao, a high ranking civil servant who
allowed him a stipend of 25 rupees per month. This was something amid the
distressing circumstances, but not much. Many a times he had to write in red
ink on paper already written with blue ink, to conserve paper! His first paper
on Bernoullin Numbers appeared in the first journal of newly constituted Indian
Mathematical Society in Madras. With publication, Ramanujan’s talent began to
be noticed, but nobody was in a position to assess its worth when compared to
established mathematical precincts. He was urged to write to European
mathematicians for encouragement, which he did by writing to three English
professors, of which G H Hardy alone had the sensibility to detect genius in
his otherwise unordered work. The association with Hardy was to change
Ramanujan’s life forever.
Hardy at first dismissed the
letter from India as prank, but some of the theorems expounded in them caught
his eye. Littlewood, who was his colleague, also took interest in it and after
careful deliberations, decided to bring Ramanujan to Cambridge for further
study and polishing his skills. Eric Neville was despatched to India to
persuade the genius who was loathe to leave India since crossing the seas was
forbidden to brahmins, to which caste he belonged. However, as with several
Hindu customs which would bend before money and influence, this one was also
manageable to Hardy. Ramanujan agreed to cross the seas to England. They also
prompted Madras University to foot the bill for Ramanujan’s stay there for two
years. He set sail in 1914 and straight away plunged into work.
With help and support from Hardy
and Littlewood, Ramanujan progressed steadily and published several
distinguished papers. Even though Cambridge was steeped in World War I, and its
faculty and students engaged in hostilities far away on the continent, he
continued his work singlemindedly. The sheer joy of finding his real mettle
helped grease the path for the first three years, but things began to change
for the worse after that. Ramanujan was a strict vegetarian and had to cook for
himself since he couldn’t eat at a place that even processed meat. The
vegetables, fruits and milk became increasingly dearer as the war wore on
interminably. Reduced calorie intake, coupled with overwork and no physical
exercises made him afflicted with tuberculosis. Recuperation in distant
sanatoriums was stressful, for his particular habits mentioned above. Added to
this was the stressful letters coming in from home regarding the domestic
warfare between his mother and wife. Ramanujan was mentally stretched to the
breaking point and tried to commit suicide by jumping before an oncoming
underground train, which was stopped just in the nick of time to save him.
Professionally, his star had
risen. He was admitted to the Royal Society as a fellow and soon became a
fellow of Trinity College in Cambridge as well, where he worked along with
Hardy. His bad health prompted him to return to India in 1919. The reception
was warm this time, with Madras University offering him a sinecure
professorship with freedom to do research on whatever field he liked. However,
Ramanujan’s life was to be short one as TB put its tentacles firm around him.
He ded on Apr 26, 1920, at the age of 32.
Ramanujan’s contributions ranged
mainly on number theory and elliptical functions. He pioneered many fruitful
investigations in infinite series, mock-theta functions and partition functions
in number theory. His method for calculating the value of Pi (the ratio of
circumference to diameter of a circle) is the fastest algorithm developed for
computer applications. His theorems were based on intuition which was proved
true in a rigorous way by other mathematicians around the world. Ramanujan’s
mastery of numbers continued unabated even when he was seriously ill with TB.
When Hardy visited Ramanujan who was convalescing in a sanatorium, he casually
mentioned the number of his cab which was 1729 and remarked that it was an ugly
number. Ramanujan immediately came out with a negation and declared it is a
very auspicious number since that is the shortest integer, which can be
expressed as the sum of two cubes, as 1729 = 103 + 93 and
also 123+13!
The book is noteworthy for the
fact that biographies of Ramanujan either rely solely on the biographical
aspect, without paying any attention to his work and those who concentrate on
the work fail to portray the genius as a man. This book finds a right balance
between the two and handles mathematical concepts without becoming a burden on
the general reader. Though a set of photo plates are included, there is only
one image of Ramanujan, the one the world is so familiar with. Kanigel’s
biographical acumen extends further from his human subjects towards the
educational systems, religious and geographical peculiarities and such like.
His coverage of G H Hardy also places before the reader an arresting caricature
of British public school system. To accentuate the description of the effects
of war on Ramanujan, Kanigel goes on to provide an interesting survey of those
difficult times in Europe.
There is only one drawback to
place against the work. Undue importance given to details of personal lives of
Hardy and his colleagues in Cambridge distracts the reader from the main theme.
This would have been avoided to good measure. Perhaps these passages may be
edited out from books addressed to children.
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