Today (December 11th) is Subramania Bharathi’s (Bharathiyar) birthday.
Subramania Bharathi (1882–1921) and Srinivasa Ramanujan (1887–1920) were contemporaries. They lived during the same historical period, in the early 1900s. Their lives overlapped for 33 years (1887–1920). Both died very young.
They came from very different worlds: Bharathiyar was a poet–journalist–freedom fighter; Ramanujan was a self-taught mathematical genius. But they were shaped by the same era: British colonial rule, the rise of Indian nationalism, and a cultural-intellectual churn in Tamil Nadu.
Though they lived at the same time and within the broader Tamil region, they did not share a city long enough to have likely met.
Except, possibly, in 1914!
From 1910 to March 1914, Ramanujan lived in Madras (Chennai), supported by patrons like Ramaswamy Iyer and the University of Madras. He left for Cambridge in March 1914. Bharathiyar was in Pondicherry between 1908–1918 due to political exile. However, he occasionally sneaked into Madras during this period. So it is possible (hypothetically) that Bharathiyar visited Madras in 1914.
So, I have always wanted to imagine a meeting and conversation between the two diametrically different geniuses – what would a left brain genius and right brain genius talk if they met, while knowing about each other’s prowess?
Given that both were very devout, here’s an imaginary meeting between Subramania Bharathi and Srinivasa Ramanujan, sometime in 1914, at the Parthasarathy Temple in Madras (yes, the very same temple where Bharathi was struck by the temple’s elephant. Although he survived the incident, his health deteriorated eventually, and he died).
The morning sun slants across the front mandapam of TiruvallikeNi’s Parthasarathy Temple as Ramanujan, thin, deeply absorbed, sits near a pillar scribbling numbers on a piece of paper. A priest passes by, but Ramanujan barely notices. A cow wanders unbothered between devotees.
Bharathiyar sidesteps the cow and notices Ramanujan.
Bharathiyar, to Ramanujan: “You write as though the Gods themselves are waiting for your answer”
Ramanujan looks up, mildly startled. Then, recognizing Bharathi, he says, with an amused expression, “The Gods already know the answer, sir. I’m just trying to catch up”
Bharathiyar chuckles. Ramanujan’s smart repartee pleases him.
Bharathiyar: “I have heard of you. The young man whose notebook confounds half of Madras University!”
Ramanujan: “And I of you! The revolutionary poet who frightens governments but comforts the common man!”
A moment of quiet. Bells ring from the temple’s inner sanctum.
Bharathiyar: “You trust numbers quite a lot to reveal the deepest truths, don’t you?”
Ramanujan turns, faintly defensive but polite.
Ramanujan: “Numbers do not lie, sir”
Bharathiyar: “Neither do poems. But both are misunderstood”
Ramanujan gestures to the temple gopuram, and asks, “Can poetry build this?”.
Bharathiyar: “Can equations move the heart that built it?”
A spark of respect appears in Ramanujan’s eyes, and he says, “Fair. But numbers describe the universe”
Bharathiyar: “… and poetry gives the universe meaning”
Ramanujan pauses, considers, then counters: “Meaning is subjective. Mathematics is truth”
Bharathiyar: “Truth without meaning is a lamp without oil”
The challenge hangs in the air. Ramanujan stands, intrigued.
Bharathiyar continues, breaking the silence, “Tell me, do numbers speak to you… or do you speak to them?”
Ramanujan: “Neither. They reveal themselves, when they are pleased. And poetry? Does it arrive, or is it pursued?”
Bharathiyar: “It arrives like lightning… and then must be chased before it disappears”
Ramanujan nods, recognising a familiar truth.
Ramanujan: “Then we are both servants of revelations that come uninvited!”
Bharathiyar: “Ah hah! But we must make ourselves worthy of receiving them”
Ramanujan: “Tell me – do you believe wisdom is given or earned?”
Bharathiyar: “I believe it is both! Given by grace, earned by courage.”
Ramanujan’s eyes soften, “Then may we continue to be worthy, in our own ways. I think we are climbing the same mountain… but from opposite sides”
They smile – two different minds recognising the same fire in each other.
A distant conch blows in the vicinity. Bharathiyar folds his hands and says, “I suspect, young sir, that the world will have a lot to say about you very soon”
Ramanujan (softly): “And about you, perhaps even more than you expect”
Bharathiyar gives a slight bow and turns toward the inner sanctum.
Ramanujan watches him walk away, then returns to his paper, a new idea suddenly forming, as if the conversation had nudged something loose.