‘Scientific Sufi:  The Life and Times of Jagadish Chandra Bose’ book review: For the love of science

Express News Service

In The Scientific Sufi:  The Life and Times of Jagadish Chandra Bose, Meher Wan’s biography of the ‘father of modern science in India’, the author recounts an anecdote from one of Jagadish’s many trips to England. Just before he was to address the British Royal Society in 1901, the “billionaire owner of 
a well-known telegraph company” insisted on meeting him. The magnate arrived bearing a patent form, and tried to persuade the scientist to withhold some of the information planned for his upcoming speech. That, he was told, could be used to apply for a patent instead, and would rake in a lot of money for both the businessman as well as him.

In a subsequent letter to his dear friend Rabindranath Tagore, Jagadish wrote: “This billionaire came to me like a beggar just to earn some more money. Friend, I wish you could see the craziness of these people with money—money, money and money all the time, how hungry… I turned down his offer.”

His belief that science should be for knowledge, that “it is not the inventor, but the invention that matters”, was what probably came in the way of him winning greater acclaim. While Guglielmo Marconi won the Nobel Prize for his work in radio waves, he had successfully demonstrated the same theories before the Italian engineer did. The difference was that the latter was quick to patent his findings; Jagadish—the ‘sufi’, the mystic with little attachment to materialism—contented himself with his work.

Through The Scientific Sufi, Wan traces his life with a view to providing a glimpse of how various influences, especially in his childhood, might have moulded the character of this great scientist. Born in the household of Bhagban Chandra Bose, the deputy magistrate of Faridpur (near Dhaka), Jagadish might have been expected to have grown up a privileged child. 

Yet, such was not the case. His father insisted on sending his son to a Bengali-medium school instead of an English one, and he had classmates from social strata that most would consider many rungs lower than that of the Boses. 

To add to this, Bhagban hired a reformed dacoit as companion-cum-mentor to little Jagadish: a figure who would, in his own way, show the child a path of courage and perseverance.

The author carefully and systematically describes Jagadish’s life, through his growing years, to school in Kolkata, and then to Cambridge for higher studies. A large chunk of the book, as would be expected, is devoted to his research, especially in the fields of wireless communication and plant neurology. How, surviving on an unfairly low salary (as a professor at Kolkata’s British- run Presidency College), he innovated, getting a local blacksmith to cast his equipment; how his genius, combined with his zeal to pursue knowledge, as well as what was obviously a good deal of resourcefulness, helped him succeed. Also, deliberated upon are the many obstacles–– the competitiveness of other scientists, and the very fact that Jagadish was a ‘subject’ in a British colony.

What emerges from this interesting book is not just a fine insight into Jagadish, the scientist, but also the man, and the times that he lived in. There are anecdotes that show his relationships with his parents, his wife Abala, and with Tagore; there is a glimpse offered into his deep sense of belonging to India, his desire to help educate Indians, and inculcate a scientific discipline in society. There is also a translation of a travelogue he wrote after a trip to Gangotri, and even a fascinating science- fiction story, illustrating the butterfly effect—not many non-Bengalis might know that he was a pioneer of Bengali science-fiction.

In terms of the backdrop, the book paints a vivid picture of the time when independent India was a distant dream, and Jagadish, working at the Presidency College, found himself thwarted at every 
turn, especially by his English colleagues, but persisted with an exemplary sense of self-respect and dignity. What also comes through forcefully, and repeatedly, is just how far ahead of his times he was.

Wan’s research is impeccable ––his detailed depiction of the Jagadish’s life is a valuable contribution to understanding this titan of science. What lets this book down, and that badly, however, is the slipshod editing. The prose is often clunky and riddled with grammatical errors; there are many instances of unnecessary repetition, and the language is at times poor to the extent of being confusing. All of this detracts from The Scientific Sufi being the classic it might have been.

By: Meher Wan 
Publisher: Penguin 
Pages: 240
Price: Rs 499

<br /> In The Scientific Sufi:  The Life and Times of Jagadish Chandra Bose, Meher Wan’s biography of the ‘father of modern science in India’, the author recounts an anecdote from one of Jagadish’s many trips to England. Just before he was to address the British Royal Society in 1901, the “billionaire owner of <br /> a well-known telegraph company” insisted on meeting him. The magnate arrived bearing a patent form, and tried to persuade the scientist to withhold some of the information planned for his upcoming speech. That, he was told, could be used to apply for a patent instead, and would rake in a lot of money for both the businessman as well as him.</p> <p>In a subsequent letter to his dear friend Rabindranath Tagore, Jagadish wrote: “This billionaire came to me like a beggar just to earn some more money. Friend, I wish you could see the craziness of these people with money—money, money and money all the time, how hungry… I turned down his offer.”</p> <p>His belief that science should be for knowledge, that “it is not the inventor, but the invention that matters”, was what probably came in the way of him winning greater acclaim. While Guglielmo Marconi won the Nobel Prize for his work in radio waves, he had successfully demonstrated the same theories before the Italian engineer did. The difference was that the latter was quick to patent his findings; Jagadish—the ‘sufi’, the mystic with little attachment to materialism—contented himself with his work.googletag.cmd.push(function() {googletag.display(‘div-gpt-ad-8052921-2’); });</p> <p>BibliothEque nationale de France/Wikimedia Commons [Licensed under CC BY Public Domain Mark 1.0]</p> <p>Through The Scientific Sufi, Wan traces his life with a view to providing a glimpse of how various influences, especially in his childhood, might have moulded the character of this great scientist. Born in the household of Bhagban Chandra Bose, the deputy magistrate of Faridpur (near Dhaka), Jagadish might have been expected to have grown up a privileged child. </p> <p>Yet, such was not the case. His father insisted on sending his son to a Bengali-medium school instead of an English one, and he had classmates from social strata that most would consider many rungs lower than that of the Boses. </p> <p>To add to this, Bhagban hired a reformed dacoit as companion-cum-mentor to little Jagadish: a figure who would, in his own way, show the child a path of courage and perseverance.</p> <p>The author carefully and systematically describes Jagadish’s life, through his growing years, to school in Kolkata, and then to Cambridge for higher studies. A large chunk of the book, as would be expected, is devoted to his research, especially in the fields of wireless communication and plant neurology. How, surviving on an unfairly low salary (as a professor at Kolkata’s British- run Presidency College), he innovated, getting a local blacksmith to cast his equipment; how his genius, combined with his zeal to pursue knowledge, as well as what was obviously a good deal of resourcefulness, helped him succeed. Also, deliberated upon are the many obstacles–– the competitiveness of other scientists, and the very fact that Jagadish was a ‘subject’ in a British colony.</p> <p>What emerges from this interesting book is not just a fine insight into Jagadish, the scientist, but also the man, and the times that he lived in. There are anecdotes that show his relationships with his parents, his wife Abala, and with Tagore; there is a glimpse offered into his deep sense of belonging to India, his desire to help educate Indians, and inculcate a scientific discipline in society. There is also a translation of a travelogue he wrote after a trip to Gangotri, and even a fascinating science- fiction story, illustrating the butterfly effect—not many non-Bengalis might know that he was a pioneer of Bengali science-fiction.</p> <p>In terms of the backdrop, the book paints a vivid picture of the time when independent India was a distant dream, and Jagadish, working at the Presidency College, found himself thwarted at every <br /> turn, especially by his English colleagues, but persisted with an exemplary sense of self-respect and dignity. What also comes through forcefully, and repeatedly, is just how far ahead of his times he was.</p> <p>Wan’s research is impeccable ––his detailed depiction of the Jagadish’s life is a valuable contribution to understanding this titan of science. What lets this book down, and that badly, however, is the slipshod editing. The prose is often clunky and riddled with grammatical errors; there are many instances of unnecessary repetition, and the language is at times poor to the extent of being confusing. All of this detracts from The Scientific Sufi being the classic it might have been.</p> <p>By: Meher Wan Publisher: Penguin Pages: 240Price: Rs 499<br />