Okay, let's unpack this. Welcome back to the
Deep Dive. Today, we are immersing ourselves
in the extraordinary life and, well, the volatile
genius of one of the 20th century's most critical
physicists, Sir Tandra Sikharavan Kadaraman.
Siviraman, yes. And this is really a story about...
Challenging, you know, colonial era scientific
authority, achieving what seems impossible from
a modest lab and a personality so formidable
it both propelled monumental discovery and created
decades of bitter controversy. It really is.
And I think a good place to start is with the
prize itself. In 1930, Raman wins the Nobel Prize
in physics for his work on the scattering of
light. What we now call the Raman effect. Exactly.
And this achievement, it really rewrote the global
map of science. He was the first Asian and, critically,
the first non -white person to ever receive a
Nobel in the sciences. You have to put that in
context, right? You absolutely have to. I mean,
this victory wasn't just some personal triumph.
It was a profound statement that world -class
foundational physics could come from outside
the established, you know, the very well -funded
centers of Europe and America. That immediately
establishes our mission for this deep dive. We've
taken your detailed source material, a really
sweeping biography of his life, and we're pulling
out the key intellectual moments, the brilliant
science and the profound institutional battles
that defined him. We want to understand not just
what he discovered, but how his sheer force of
will shaped the entire landscape of modern Indian
research. Precisely. And we're tracking the genesis
of this genius right from the start. into a Tamil
Brahmin family. And his intellectual speed was,
well, it was astonishing, almost aggressive.
The timeline is just unbelievable. It is. He
matriculated at age 11. 11. And he was enrolled
in college by 13. 13, that's just phenomenal
acceleration. And he didn't just attend, he completely
dominated. By 16, he earned his BA with honors
from the University of Madras. And the sources
make a point of noting he swept the gold medals
in both physics and English. Yes. And you should
think about that combination for a moment. You
have this rigorous mathematical precision and
observational skill needed for physics combined
with the verbal dexterity. The expressive power
to articulate entirely new concepts to a very
skeptical... global scientific community. That
dual capacity, the ability to do the science
and then to sell the science, that must have
been absolutely crucial for someone operating
outside the European establishment. Oh, completely.
And he was already publishing his results before
he even officially had his degree. That's the
part that's just wild to me. Absolutely. His
first scientific paper, it was on light diffraction
from a rectangular aperture. Right. And he gets
it published in the Philosophical Magazine in
1906. Which, for our listeners, wasn't just any
journal. That was the journal. That was the premier
British journal of the time. I mean, the absolute
top tier. And he's, what, 18 at this point, still
a graduate student. He's already bypassing the
academic ladder. I noticed in the sources that
his second paper, something about the surface
tension of liquids, was published in that same
journal right alongside a paper by the legendary
Lord Rayleigh. Yes. And that interaction is so
telling. Rayleigh, who had no idea of Roman's
youth or his limited resources, was so impressed
that he started corresponding with him. And he
addressed him as professor. Wait, courteously
addressing the young man as professor. It really
highlights that Roman was seen right from the
start as this self -made scientific entity achieving
international credibility based purely on the
quality of his observation and analysis, despite
his distance from the centers of power. So if
Vermont was already getting letters from scientific
legends, this brings us to that first great turning
point in his career. Let's call it Section 2,
the choice. Why, with this blazing scientific
start, did he veer away from research and enter
the incredibly conservative world of the civil
service? Well, this choice was dictated by a
cocktail of fate, institutional constraints,
and, well, pragmatism. The most immediate factor
was his health, wasn't it? It was. His physics
teacher saw his potential and was desperate for
him to go to England for advanced research. That
was the hub, of course. But during the mandatory
medical inspection for the scholarship, the doctor,
Colonel Sir Gerald Gifford, delivered a pretty
devastating verdict. He called him a weakling.
A weakling, yes. And he flatly claimed that Ramon
would die of tuberculosis if he was subjected
to the cold, harsh English climate. Wow. So a
completely preventative and you could argue an
inaccurate colonial era medical assessment just
slams the door on the traditional European academic
track. It forces him onto a different path. Exactly.
And that alternative path was the Indian Finance
Service, the IFS. Which was the gold standard
for prestige and stability under the British
Raj. Absolutely. The intellectual elite. of the
administrative class. Rahman sat for the entrance
exam in 1907 and, well, predictably, he came
in first. Of course he did. He secured his position
as assistant accountant general in Calcutta at
just 19 years old. The sources really emphasize
the financial lure here. We're not just talking
about a secure job. We're talking about massive
social and financial elevation. It was a huge
step up. His wife, Loka Simdari Amal, later made
a famous, slightly wry comment about their marriage.
She noted it was partially due to, and this is
a quote, the extra allowance which the finance
department gave to its married officers. A specific
bonus for being married? An additional 150 rupees
a month, which was a substantial sum at the time.
The IFS guaranteed a comfortable life, high social
standing, and, you know, lifelong stability.
But Rahman clearly wasn't built for administrative
stability. How long did the suit and tie last
before the lab coat started calling him back?
Not long at all. This is where his scientific
drive really proves its power. While he's posted
in Calcutta, he's riding a tram one day past
210 Bobazar Street, and he sees a sign. The Indian
Association for the Cultivation of Science, the
IACS. Exactly. This was the first research institution
established in India, founded way back in 1876
by Dr. Mahendral Sarkar. But by 1907, it was
essentially dormant. Just an empty building,
more or less. A museum piece. It had produced
virtually no research papers and lacked any regular
active scientists. So Rahman, the accountant
general, essentially stumbles upon this abandoned,
potentially world -class physical space in the
heart of the city? That's the perfect way to
put it. He immediately gets permission to use
the facilities. And crucially, because he's employed
full -time by the government, he can only do
research at very unusual hours. Early mornings,
late nights, weekends. Exactly. He transforms
that empty vessel into a functional research
center through sheer determination. His article
on Newton's Rings in Polarized Light, published
in Nature in 1907, became the very first genuine
research paper to ever emerge from the IACS.
So he uses private time, sacrificing stability
and leisure, to build a world -class institution
from scratch. Which makes his next step... what
the sources call his supreme sacrifice, logical
but still just astonishing. It is the defining
moment of his dedication. In 1917, after 10 years
of service in the IFS, he resigns. He resigns
from his high -paying, ultra -secure government
job to accept the newly created Pallet Professorship
of Physics at the University of Calcutta. And
the sources are very clear on this. His new salary
as a professor was roughly half of what he had
been earning. Half. This was a tremendous financial
and professional risk, especially in colonial
India. So what was the tradeoff besides just
pure passion? What were the terms of the professorship
that made that salary cut worthwhile? The terms
were a scientist's dream. Total academic freedom.
The offer stipulated that he would, and I'm quoting
here, not be required to take any teaching work
in MA and MSC classes to the detriment of his
own research or assisting advanced students in
their researches. So he exchanged stability and
money for complete control over his research
and the ability to mentor students. All of his
energy could now go to the lab. That sounds like
a powerful institutional endorsement, but the
sources indicate this appointment was immediately
met with resistance from inside the university.
It was very contentious. Many of the foreign
members of the Senate objected, and they objected
strongly. Their rationale was, frankly, pure
colonial prejudice. Brahman didn't have a Ph
.D. He lacked a Ph .D., and he had never studied
in Europe. He didn't follow the prescribed academic
trajectory. His homegrown genius was literally
being held against him. So how did he get past
that? This is where the power of Sir Ashutosh
Mukherjee, the vice chancellor of the University
of Calcutta, came in. Mukherjee just bypassed
the objections. He arranged for an honorary doctor
of science, a DSC, to be conferred upon Rahman
by the university in 1921. A formal acknowledgement
that his published, proven research was more
important than a piece of paper from Europe.
It far outweighed the need for formal European
accreditation, yes. By the time he was elected
a fellow of the Royal Society and FRS in 1924,
he must have felt scientifically untouchable.
He was truly a global competitor at that point.
He was. And he knew it. His ambition was now
completely unrestrained. When Mukherjee asked
him what goal he would pursue next after the
FRS election, Rahman's reply was that classic
confident declaration, the Nobel Prize, of course.
It wasn't just ambition, was it? It was this
almost belligerent confidence that he belonged
to the absolute pinnacle of world science. And
he had the empirical proof to back it up. You
have to wonder if that kind of hubris was necessary
for a scientist operating outside the established
Western network. It's a fascinating question.
It seems like that ferocious confidence was an
essential shield. Moving into section three,
let's look at the scientific groundwork that
led to the Nobel. Before the definitive light
scattering work, Raman spent a significant amount
of time on acoustics. For someone who was destined
for a Nobel in physics, why this big detour into
the vibrations of musical instruments? Well,
it wasn't really a detour. It was more of a conceptual
training ground. Raman's early obsession with
acoustics, which started back at the IACS, was
fundamentally a study of wave phenomena. vibration,
harmonic structure. He was deeply inspired by
Hermann von Helmholtz's seminal work, The Sensations
of Tone. So he was applying the rigor of physics
to explain the aesthetics of sound. Exactly.
He did these highly detailed studies on things
like the wolf note phenomenon. That sudden jarring
sound on violins and cellos. Yes, that unstable
sound you get on certain notes. He meticulously
analyzed the complex vibrations of the bridge
and the body that caused this effect. If you
think about it, acoustics is all about these
subtle... shifts in frequency, resonance, energy
transfer. Right. It sounds like the perfect conceptual
prelude to light scattering, which is essentially
about subtle shifts in wavelength and energy
transfer. That's the core intellectual connection.
That's what we need to highlight. He was training
his experimental eye to detect and quantify subtle
shifts in vibration patterns. And he applied
this rigor to instruments that Western science
had largely ignored. He did. He conducted the
first scientific studies analyzing the harmonic
structure of sounds produced by the tabla and
the meridangam. So instead of just dismissing
them as simple drums, he analyzed them as these
complex acoustical systems. And he proved they
produced sounds with rich, organized harmonic
overtones. He challenged the simplistic view
and put them on the same scientific footing as,
say, the Western violin. Even his 1921 visit
to England, which was brief, was used to study
sound propagation in the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral.
The famous whispering gallery effect, yes. He
was investigating how sound waves cling to curved
surfaces. It was all part of this deep dive into
wave physics. And all this expertise in wave
phenomena culminates in that pivotal moment that
shifts his focus entirely from sound to light.
The famous sea color controversy. This is one
of the most romantic and consequential shipboard
observations in the history of science. It's
September 1921. He's sailing back to India from
England on the SS Narcunda. And he finds himself
just contemplating the deep blue of the Mediterranean
Sea. And the prevailing wisdom from Lord Rayleigh
was that the blue color of the sea was just a
reflection of the blue sky. Exactly. An optical
illusion. The idea was that the sea was simply
reflecting light from the blue sky, scattered
according to the famous Rayleigh scattering formula.
Which, again, sounds perfectly logical. But Roman
looked deeper. He did. And he used surprisingly
simple tools. a pocket spectroscope, and something
called a Nicole prism. What's a Nicole prism?
It's a piece of calcite crystal that filters
light polarization. He used it specifically to
eliminate surface reflections, to block the scattered
light coming from the sky. Okay, so if Rayleigh's
theory was correct, when he looked through the
prism, the sea should have turned dark or gray.
It should have. but instead it appeared even
more intensely, intrinsically blue. That was
the observational contradiction that launched
his most famous work. If the blue wasn't reflected
skylight, what on earth was causing it? Raman
immediately proposed an alternative mechanism,
molecular diffraction. Which is the scattering
of light by the water molecules themselves? Yes.
Think of the light hitting the tiny individual
water molecules and being redirected. He suggested
that the vast number of these molecules, rather
than surface reflection, were diffracting the
blue wavelengths more efficiently. And he rushed
a note to nature as soon as the ship docked.
Titled The Color of the Sea, yes. He argued that
Rayleigh's explanation was, quote, questionable
by a simple mode of observation. And this wasn't
just a philosophical musing. This became a concrete
research agenda back in Calcutta, right? Absolutely.
He put his students, including K .R. Ramanathan,
to work. They used the Bay of Bengal as their
laboratory, confirming experimentally that the
blue color persisted even when the sky was cloudy
or when observing from depth. So this work, done
with ingenuity and minimal equipment at the IACS,
it validated his insight. Completely. The blue
color of the deep sea is intrinsic to the water
itself, caused by molecular scattering. And this
success, it fortified his belief that he could
challenge the established giants of European
science with nothing more than sharp observation
and brilliant conceptual analysis. That mastery
of light scattering brings us directly to Section
4, the quantum leap. He had proved that molecules
scatter light but now he was searching for something
that would fundamentally prove the quantum nature
of light itself. The stage was set, but the definitive
discovery really needed a push. Raman had actually
seen a faint spectral shift years earlier, around
1923, when filtering sunlight through violet
glass. But an associate dismissed it, right?
Dismissed the resulting faint lines as a mere
trace of fluorescence. They knew something was
happening, but they lacked the conceptual framework
to fully interpret it. And the required catalyst
arrived in December 1927. Yes, the news that
Arthur Compton had won the Nobel Prize for the
Compton Effect. It electrified the Calcutta lab.
Remind us what the Compton effect is. Compton
had demonstrated that when X -rays, a form of
electromagnetic wave, interacted with matter,
they behaved like particles, and their wavelengths
changed during the scattering. It was a profound
experimental confirmation of quantum theory.
And Raman saw that result and immediately extrapolated
it from X -rays to visible light. The moment
he heard the news, he famously declared to his
associate, K .S. Krishnan. Excellent news. If
this is true of X -rays, it must be true of light,
too. I have always thought so. There must be
an optical analog to Compton effect. We must
pursue it, and we are on the right lines. It
must and shall be found. The Nobel Prize must
be won. Wow. That quote just perfectly frames
the scientific race and the sheer ambition driving
them for the next two months. They weren't just
searching for a discovery. They were hunting
the Nobel Prize. The experiments began immediately.
in January 1928, with Krishnan doing most of
the work at the bench. A key early finding came
on January 7th. Krishnan noted that pure liquids
consistently produced a kind of polarized fluorescence.
But they realized it wasn't fluorescence. They
quickly realized this wasn't fluorescence, which
is a rapid emission of light, but something totally
new, something they labeled modified scattering.
Now, we need to understand the mechanism here.
What exactly were they looking for to confirm
this was a new effect, fundamentally different
from Rayleigh scattering or fluorescence? This
is the crucial technical detail we need to unpack
for this deep dive. Rayleigh scattering is what
we call elastic. The light bounces off the molecule
without losing or gaining any energy. So the
wavelength or the color stays exactly the same.
Exactly. Raman was looking for inelastic scattering.
Inelastic scattering implies an energy exchange
is happening. Precisely. In simple terms, when
the incoming light particle, the photon, hits
a molecule, there are two key possibilities for
this inelastic interaction. First, the photon
can transfer some of its energy to the molecule,
making the molecule vibrate faster. The photon,
now having less energy, shifts to a longer wavelength,
a redder color. These are called Stokes lines.
Okay. And the second possibility. If the molecule
is already vibrating, the photon can actually
pick up that excess energy when it hits. This
results in a shorter wavelength, a bluer color.
And these are called anti -Stokes lines. So the
presence of these new shifted lines is the proof.
It confirms that the photon interacted dynamically
with the vibrational and rotational states of
the molecule. It's a direct confirmation. The
color change isn't random. It's a precise measure
of the energy states of the molecule itself.
They just needed the technology to see those
tiny, shifted lines clearly. Which brings us
to the defining moment of February 28, 1928.
Yes. They needed clear spectral evidence. Raymond
utilized a newly designed spectrograph, a piece
of equipment that separates light into its component
wavelengths, powered by a powerful, filtered
mercury arc lamp. And that night, it worked.
That light examining the scattered light from
a liquid sample, the spectral photographs confirmed
it. Beside the intensely bright original Mercury
line, there appeared faint but undeniable new
lines, the shifted Stokes and anti -Stokes lines.
That spectral shift confirmed the energy exchange,
the Raman effect. And true to his showman nature,
the announcement was immediate and dramatic.
The very next day, February 29th, the news was
wired to the Associated Press of India. The headline
was, New Theory of Radiation. Professor Raman's
discovery. He knew immediately how universal
it was, didn't he? He did. He showed this spectral
shift occurred not just in the complex molecular
structure of crystals, but across simple liquids,
gases, and solids. He had discovered a new universal
physical phenomenon. That kind of audacity surely
invited global scrutiny, especially from the
established figures in Europe. Was there skepticism?
Oh, intense skepticism. Initial reports of shifted
lines were often dismissed as experimental error
or contamination. Major European physicists,
including Arnold Sommerfeld and George Hughes,
they tried to reproduce the results and they
failed at first. Why did they fail? Their equipment
or their filtering methods just weren't sensitive
enough. They questioned whether the faint lines
were just a form of spurious fluorescence. So
who validated the work? Who was it that guaranteed
its place in history? The crucial independent
confirmation arrived later in June 1928 from
Peter Pringsheim at the University of Berlin.
Pringsheim successfully reproduced the results
using cleaner substances and better filtering,
and he validated Raman's claims. And it was Pringsheim
who coined the name, right? Yes, it was Pringsheim
who coined the lasting terminology, calling the
phenomenon the Raman effect, and the shifted
spectral lines the Linnean -Raman effects, the
Raman lines. The ultimate outcome of this discovery
fundamentally changed physics. What was its true
lasting significance beyond just the prize? The
Raman effect provided one of the earliest and
most robust experimental proofs of the quantum
nature of light, the definitive particle -wave
duality. It showed the photon engaging in a dynamic
energy exchange, confirming its particle -like
behavior. And what did the other giants of physics
think? Robert W. Wood, a major physicist at Johns
Hopkins, called it one of the most convincing
proofs of the quantum theory. And Ernest Rutherford,
the towering figure of experimental physics,
he ranked it among the best three or four discoveries
in experimental physics in the last decade. And
the practical legacy is Raman spectroscopy. Yes.
Because the shift in the scattered light is unique
to the vibrational modes of the molecule it struck,
the Raman effect creates a molecular fingerprint.
Raman spectroscopy is now an indispensable tool
in chemistry, forensics, medicine, material science.
So scientists can identify substances based purely
on their unique spectral shift. Exactly. And
all of this came from a scientist who famously
boasted, perhaps with some exaggeration, when
I got my Nobel Prize, I had spent hardly 200
rupees on my equipment. It just underscores this
triumph of intellectual ingenuity over massive
institutional budgets. That victory in 1930 confirms
that Raman was right all along in his self -belief.
His certainty of winning the Nobel was almost
as famous as the discovery itself. The Nobel
fixation was absolute. He was intensely disappointed
in 1928 and 1929 when he was passed over. But
in 1930, his confidence was so total that he
booked steamship tickets to Stockholm for himself
and his wife in July. Four months before the
official announcement in November. Four months.
His wife recalled him obsessively scanning the
newspaper every single morning, just desperate
for the confirmation. when he was asked about
sharing the prize given the possibility that
the discovery could have been shared his competitive
nature immediately came out he was completely
unapologetic he stated flatly that i should have
shared the nobel prize with compton and i should
not have liked that i would rather receive the
whole of it It wasn't just about the science.
It was about the singular, undeniable validation
of his life's work. So following the Nobel, Rahman
shifted his focus dramatically from discovery
in Calcutta to institutional leadership and applied
physics in Bangalore. This marked the next major
phase of his career. In 1933, he accepted the
position of the first Indian director of the
Indian Institute of Science, or ISC, in Bangalore.
This was a massive transition into administration.
A huge transition aimed at shaping the future
of Indian scientific infrastructure. He also
leveraged his authority to found the Indian Academy
of Sciences in 1934 and later the Raman Research
Institute, the RRI, in 1948, which really became
his personal sanctuary and final laboratory.
During this post -Nobel era, what were his major
scientific contributions? Was he able to maintain
that same level of fundamental inquiry? Oh, absolutely.
One of his most important contributions in applied
physics was the celebrated Ramanath theory, which
he developed with his student, Nagendranath.
And this was the foundational theoretical explanation
for the acousto -optic effect. That's right.
Let's be precise. What is the acousto -optic
effect, and why is it still important now? The
acousto -optic effect is essentially the diffraction
or scattering of light by high -frequency sound
waves, specifically ultrasound waves traveling
through a transparent medium. So the sound waves
create these periodic density variations in the
medium. Which act like a diffraction grating.
Light passing through this area is scattered
by the acoustic waves. The Ramanath theory provided
the exact mathematical basis for predicting this
light scattering. And why does this matter today?
Today, acoustic optic modulators, deflectors,
and filters are critical components in modern
telecommunications, fiber optics, and high -speed
laser scanning systems. So he moved from a...
purely conceptual quantum discovery to laying
the theoretical groundwork for modern optical
engineering. Yes, it just demonstrates his versatility.
But what's particularly striking about his later
career is his focus on the aesthetics of the
physical world. He dedicated decades to understanding
color, iridescence, and crystalline structure.
That's where the intellectual connection between
acoustics, the Raman effect, and his later work
on gems comes into sharp focus, isn't it? It's
a relentless lifelong pursuit of understanding
how molecular structure dictates light interaction.
From 1944 to 1968, he devoted immense energy
to studying the properties of diamond. Why diamond?
He analyzed its subtle fluorescence, its hardness,
its crystal lattice structure, using diamond
itself as a key material for studying crystal
vibrations, which is a direct continuation of
the principles underlying the Raymond effect.
And he also studied many common, beautiful, but
complex materials. He was captivated by the optical
physics of everyday iridescent materials. Opal,
agate, labradorite, pearly feldspar, the optical
behavior of pearls. He wasn't just looking at
them. He was trying to understand the exact physical
mechanism, whether it was structural color, interference,
or molecular alignment, that produced that visual
splendor. He saw aesthetic beauty as the end
result of fundamental quantum processes. Exactly.
And toward the very end of his life, he even
moved into biological structures. In the 1960s,
right? Yes. In the 60s, he turned to understanding
the physiology of human vision and the colors
of flowers, setting the pigments he called fluorochromes.
His intellectual journey, if you look at it,
it's this unified line from detecting subtle
sound vibrations to discovering how light interacts
with molecular vibrations to produce a spectral
fingerprint, to spending the rest of his life
analyzing how those physical interactions manifest
as the beautiful colors we see in the sea, in
gems, and in nature. It's the science of visible
quantum mechanics. It's clear that C .V. Rahman
possessed a towering, unified intellect. However,
to truly understand his legacy and the infrastructure
he built, we have to address Section 6, the difficult
genius. The sources paint a picture of a man
whose brilliance was frequently overshadowed
by profound institutional conflict and personal
antagonism. That is absolutely correct. His career
is a classic case study of how genius can be
both highly productive and deeply destructive
institutionally. And we can start with the Nobel
itself and the priority dispute with the Russian
physicists. Gregory Landsberg and Leonid Mandelstam,
what was their timeline and their claim? So Landsberg
and Mandelstam, working at Moscow State University,
independently observed the effect in quartz crystals.
And the timeline is razor thin. How close? Later,
evidence suggested they observed the shifted
spectral lines on February 24, 1928. Which is
roughly one week before Raman's definitive confirmation
on February 28. Exactly. They published their
initial findings in July 1928 and were subsequently
nominated alongside Raman for the 1930 prize.
Yet the Nobel Committee awarded the prize solely
to Raman. What were the technical reasons that
underpin that decision beyond just the publication
date? Well, the committee's analysis hinged on
several key factors. First, the Russians had
observed the effect only in crystals, which have
a highly regular structure. Ram and Krishnan
immediately proved the universal applicability
of the effect across gases, liquids, and solids.
So his was a more general discovery. A more universal
phenomenon, yes. Second, the Nobel Committee
noted that the Russians in their initial publication
actually cited Raman's earlier non -Nobel winning
work on light scattering for the theoretical
interpretation of their own lines. So they were
building on his previous insights. In a way,
yes. And third, Raman's immediate and broad application
of the method to molecular physics was just deemed
superior. The committee concluded that Raman
had provided the more definitive and broadly
applicable proof and interpretation. Now we have
to address the most tragic footnote to this story,
the role and fate of K .S. Krishnan, Raman's
primary associate. Krishnan's contribution was
absolutely integral. He was the one leading the
benchwork experiments. He noted the initial modified
scattering on January 7th. And he co -authored
virtually all of the key discovery papers in
1928. He was, by all accounts, a co -discoverer.
He was. Yet he was never included in the Nobel
nomination. And the relationship became deeply
toxic later in life. What was the trajectory
of that hostility? After Krishnan achieved success
and recognition in his own right, Raman's antagonism
just grew and grew. Krishnan described Raman's
subsequent hostility toward him as the greatest
tragedy of my life. Raman became openly vicious.
Vicious? Even after Krishnan's death, he told
a correspondent that Krishnan was, quote, the
greatest charlatan I have known, and all his
life he masqueraded in the cloak of another man's
discovery. That's just incredibly cruel. The
cruelty of that remark, directed at a former
student and coworker who is so integral to his
greatest achievement, it reveals a dark edge
to Raman's personality, a profound insecurity
about sharing credit. And that desire for singular
recognition seemed to fuel his next major conflict,
the decade -long intellectual feud with Max Born,
the Raman Born controversy. This unfolded at
the Indian Institute of Science. The ISC, Raman,
as director, invited Max Born, another Nobel
laureate who was fleeing Nazi persecution in
Germany, to join ISC in 1933. The scientific
core of their dispute was lattice dynamics. Let's
define that term because it's critical for understanding
the fight. Lattice dynamics is the fundamental
study of how atoms vibrate within a crystal structure.
These vibrations dictate critical material properties
like heat capacity, thermal conductivity, sound
propagation. So they were arguing over the very
nature of solids. In a sense, yes. Born had developed
a complex, very detailed theoretical model for
these crystal vibrations. Raman, based on his
spectroscopic observations, developed a competing,
simpler theory. And this wasn't a gentlemanly
debate, was it? It became a personal and professional
war. It was vicious. Born's theory, relying on
complex mathematical concepts, was generally
accepted by the physics community as a more comprehensive
and accurate model. particularly in explaining
the thermal properties of crystals. But Raman
was adamant that Born's model contradicted his
own experimental evidence. Absolutely adamant.
And what was the lasting damage of this dispute?
Raman used his institutional power to suppress
Born's theory. As the editor of the influential
journal Current Science, Raman actively rejected
papers that supported Born's view of lattice
dynamics. He effectively blocked intellectual
discourse on a foundational area of physics within
India for years. Born later said he felt Raman
considered him an enemy. He did. This episode
really underscores Raman's fatal flaw, an inability
to tolerate intellectual dissent, particularly
when it challenged his own empirical observations.
This intellectual rigidity seems to be mirrored
in his institution. management at ISC, which
led to his eventual forced resignation as director.
His tenure was short and explosive. Rahman entered
ISC in 1933 with a clear mandate to elevate science,
but he drove the Institute's focus almost entirely
toward physics research. To the detriment of
other departments. Often to the detriment of
other equally important departments like engineering
and chemistry. He was criticized for behaving,
quote, like a bull in a china shop, disrupting
the established administrative and financial
balance. So he just shifted the balance of power
too aggressively. He did. A review committee
was convened in 1936, which ultimately concluded
that he had overreached his administrative mandate
and had misused funds. He was forced to step
down as director, though he was allowed to remain
as a professor of physics. A major institutional
rebuke. A huge one. It demonstrated that his
individual genius could not always translate
into successful leadership. Another deeply revealing
anecdote concerns Kamala Sohni and Rahman's views
on women in science. This is a critical anecdote
that really provides nuance to his character.
In 1933, Kamala Sohni, who had excelled in her
studies, applied for a research fellowship at
ISISC. Ron, as director, initially rejected her
application flatly. And his reasoning was explicit
and deeply sexist. Explicitly so. He believed
that women were not considered competent enough
to pursue research. That is just a staggering
position for such a brilliant, forward -thinking
scientist to hold. It's a profound contradiction.
Sohoney, however, refused to accept this institutional
bias. She resorted to a satyagra, a nonviolent
protest, right outside his office until he conceded.
So he eventually let her in. He did, but under
humiliating stipulations. He forced her to work
on a year's probation and required her to work
outside of standard hours. She became the first
woman admitted to the Institute in 1933. And
what was her lasting impression of him? She later
reflected, stating that while Rahman was undoubtedly
a great scientist, he was very narrow -minded.
I can never forget the way he treated me just
because I was a woman. And her subsequent career,
where she became a pioneering biochemist, proves
that his judgment was not only prejudiced, but
demonstrably wrong. Completely wrong. Moving
to his political life, Rahman was publicly aggressive
in his opposition to Prime Minister Jawaharlal
Nehru's scientific policies. His political antagonism
was fierce. Raman was a profound libertarian
when it came to science. He detested centralized
governmental control and these massive bureaucratic
organizations like the Haba Atomic Research Center
and the CSIR. He called them the Nirabhat Nagar
effect. Yes, and he saw them as stifling, true,
curiosity -driven genius. This conflict led to
some truly theatrical displays of rebellion.
It did. The sources recount two incredible physical
acts that demonstrate his rage against the state.
In one instance, he was so infuriated by Nehru's
policies that he reportedly smashed a bus to
the prime minister. And he smashed his own Bharat
Ratna medallion. Even more dramatically, he shattered
his own Bharat Ratna India's highest civilian
honor, which he received in 1954 with a hammer.
He viewed it as a symbol of a government whose
science policies he despised. And he used his
scientific showmanship to publicly embarrass
Nehru during a visit to his institute. This is
a classic Roman anecdote. During Nehru's visit
to the Roman Research Institute in 1948, Nehru
set up a display where pure copper and gold samples
were shown side by side under ultraviolet light.
Copper, due to its properties, glows with a much
more brilliant, almost startling light under
UV than gold does. Nehru was misled, and he pointed
to the copper as the more beautiful gold sample.
And Raman seized the moment for a political jab.
He did. He stated sharply, Mr. Prime Minister,
everything that glitters is not gold. It was
a pointed critique of the government's tendency
to prioritize flash over substance. That intense
aversion to government interference extended
directly to the funding of his own institute.
Absolutely. When Nehru offered financial assistance
to the Roman Research Institute, Roman flatly
refused, maintaining the RI's independence. His
rationale was simple. Czerny don't want this
to become another government laboratory. He wanted
autonomy and freedom from political mandate above
all else. Finally, let's briefly consider his
personal philosophy. The sources note his open
agnosticism. He was openly agnostic, though he
fiercely rejected being labeled an atheist. His
views were informed by the philosophy of Advaita
Vedanta and thinkers like Herbert Spencer. He
saw science itself as the path to the divine.
How did he define his belief? He said, If there
is a God, we must look for him in the universe.
If he is not there, he is not worth looking for.
The growing discoveries in the science of astronomy
and physics seem to be further and further revelations
of God. And his final requests were consistent
with that independence from tradition. Completely.
Despite being born into a Tamil Brahmin family,
he scorned a religious ritual. On his deathbed,
he told his wife he requested a clean and simple
cremation for me. No mumbo jumbo, please. He
maintained his scientific, rational approach
right to the very end. As we bring this deep
dive to a close, C .V. Rahman's legacy is monumental.
He's recognized globally. Knight Bachelor in
1929, the Hughes Medal in 1930, the Parat Ratna,
and the Lenin Peace Prize. But his institutional
legacy forged in conflict is perhaps the most
complex part of the story. His institutional
achievements, founding the Indian Academy of
Sciences and the Roman Research Institute, were
absolutely critical to the development of indigenous
Indian science. However, even his relationship
with the international establishment remained
volatile until the end. He remains the only Indian
fellow of the Royal Society ever to have resigned.
He did so in 1968. The exact reason is unrecorded,
but it was likely a culmination of disagreements
over peer review or a critical review of one
of his later, perhaps more idiosyncratic manuscripts.
The ultimate commemoration, however, is scientific,
cementing his pivotal moment in time. Indeed.
India celebrates National Science Day every year
on February 28, specifically to commemorate the
date of the definitive discovery of the Roman
effect in 1928. That date is now woven into the
national consciousness as a moment of great intellectual
pride and achievement. And in his final instruction,
just days before his death in November 1970,
we see the institutional builder emerge one last
time. Two days before he passed away, he called
a former student to his bedside and he gave this
final poignant instruction. Do not allow the
journals of the academy to die, for they are
the sensitive indicators of the quality of science
being done in the country and whether science
is taking root in it or not. He understood that
true scientific health is measured not just by
discoveries, but by the rigor and vitality of
its published communication. And an incredible
final focus on publication and discourse from
a man who spent his life generating and articulating
new knowledge. And this brings us to the final
provocative thought for you, the learner. Romain
dedicated significant portions of his life, from
the acoustics of the tabla to the colors of fluorochromes,
to relentlessly pursue the understanding of color
and light -matter interaction. If the Raman effect
proved, that light, when interacting with matter,
yields a new, unique molecular fingerprint revealed
through color and wavelength shifts, what does
this lifelong scientific pursuit of visual beauty
tell us about the ultimate entanglement between
human aesthetic curiosity and fundamental quantum
physics? He used simple beauty as the empirical
guide to the most complex realities of the universe.
It seems his entire career was an answer to the
question, how does the quantum world manifest
as visible poetry? Thank you for joining us for
this deep dive into the complex and fascinating
world of Sir C .V. Raman.