Forgotten heroes who shaped Indian science
A widely accepted fact among science students and general readers is that scientists, science professors, technologists, and academicians are often poor communicators despite their deep expertise in their respective fields. This is particularly true of Indian authors who write textbooks in chemistry, physics, biotechnology, and other areas of biosciences. The physics and chemistry textbooks prescribed for undergraduate courses were among the most insipid and drab books I have ever read.
It took me years to understand why universities chose to prescribe such books. The influence wielded by the authors—mainly teachers in colleges affiliated with the universities—played a major role in getting their books selected not only for colleges but also for schools. Textbooks prescribed for school and college courses are guaranteed to generate substantial revenue since they are mandatory purchases for students. When students are told that all examination questions will be based on these books, they have no other choice.
This was the situation that prevailed from the 1950s to the 1990s. During this period, the internet and mobile phones were unheard of, and libraries in small-town colleges were poorly stocked with books by good authors. The other day, I asked my classmate Prakashan, now a retired scientist from the Regional Chemical Laboratory in Kochi, whether he remembered the textbooks we referred to during our undergraduate days. His reply was an innocent laugh. “Had those books been written in a simple and easy-to-understand style, I definitely would have remembered them,” he said. To put it simply, these books lacked readability because the authors were more interested in displaying their command of the English language than in communicating clearly.
There is an interesting incident involving Sir C.V. Raman, who was awarded the Nobel Prize in Physics for his discovery of the Raman Effect. His illiterate aunt asked him what all the commotion was about: the Raman Effect and the Nobel Prize. When the great scientist explained the significance of his invention, his aunt reportedly asked, “Are these Westerners mad to honour you with a Nobel Prize for such a simple invention?” Far from diminishing his stature, this story only elevated the Raman Effect further in popular imagination. The simplicity with which Raman explained science to ordinary people has become part of folklore.
Books about scientists like Sir C.V. Raman are rarely written. If our textbook writers were to attempt such works, the entire stock would likely end up in publishers’ godowns. Book writing is an art in itself. Whether they are textbooks or works on great scientific inventions and discoveries, they should be written in a manner that engages readers and encourages serious reading. Facts should be presented lucidly and clearly, with emphasis on readability. Forgotten Heroes of Indian Science, authored by Anand Ranganathan and Sheetal Ranganathan (published by Penguin), is a book that meets all the essential requirements to be considered a great work.
The life and times of five great Indian scientists who rarely figure in the modern narrative form the core of this book—an intellectual feast. Through it, we understand that scientific research is a serious profession that demands 24×7 devotion and attention. It is a full-time commitment, but rarely a money-spinner. Just as saints Thyagaraja and Shyama Shastri sacrificed their lives to master the ocean of music—with their contributions remaining indispensable even today—the same can be said of these five scientists, the proud sons of India, whose stories have been chronicled brilliantly by the authors.
Dr Upendranath Brahmachari, the warrior saint of Calcutta; Dr Ram Nath Chopra, widely regarded as the father of modern Indian pharmacology; Hem Chandra Bose and Azizul Haque (whose names are synonymous with fingerprint classification); and Dr Yellapragada Subbarow, the driving force behind five of the greatest discoveries in biochemistry, are the protagonists of this 446-page book. Pages 447 to 538 contain links and references to the scientific journals and books that helped the Ranganathans produce this pathbreaking work.
Dr Brahmachari’s role in deciphering the causes of kala-azar (a disease I first heard about from the great cardiologist Dr B.M. Hegde) has been presented by the authors in a style that makes the reader feel they are watching a well-shot documentary. The book offers a panoramic view of pre-1857 India, particularly Bengal, and explains how the East India Company turned a chaas-drinking people into chai drinkers—not to improve the quality of Indian life, but to promote tea cultivation in the country. The rest is history.
Kala-azar claimed the lives of lakhs of people in the tea plantations of Assam and Darjeeling because no effective medicine existed. The invention of urea stibamine, an antidote for kala-azar, is narrated with great elan. This life-saving drug was born in a modest room in Calcutta that Dr Brahmachari used as his laboratory.
Unfortunately, his monumental contribution to medicine and public health went largely unnoticed and unrecognized in India. Meanwhile, modern Indians compete to sing paeans to a woman named Teresa, whose primary mission was to convert Hindus to Christianity. Dr Brahmachari’s great work lies buried and forgotten, while Teresa was awarded the Nobel Prize.
Dr Ram Nath Chopra developed reserpine, the world’s first effective blood pressure-lowering drug. His university was the vast repository of traditional Indian knowledge and the countless medicinal plants and herbs found in India. Reserpine, derived from the Indian herb sarpagandha (Rauwolfia serpentina), which had been used for centuries, was sold by the pharma giant Ciba to European pharmacists for $40 per lot, while its US subsidiary charged American druggists $91, as documented by Gerald Posner in his book Pharma (page 136).
Had the outside world known more about sarpagandha, thousands of lives—including that of the then US President Franklin D. Roosevelt—might have been saved. Yet the man who played a pivotal role in developing the medicine finds little mention in India. For this reason, we must thank Anand and Sheetal Ranganathan.
The world’s first fingerprint bureau was established in India, thanks to the pioneering work of Englishman Edward Henry and two Indian experts, Hem Chandra Bose and Azizul Haque. The classification system they developed came to be known as the Henry Classification System. Even today, fingerprint experts in India and English-speaking countries rely on the method developed by this trio. Every time forensic scientists visit a crime scene, they depend on the science pioneered by Bose and Haque.
Because the leaders who ruled India immediately after independence showed little enthusiasm for highlighting these achievements, Dr Yellapragada Subbarow remains largely unknown in his own country. He was one of the greatest biochemists of modern times. These scientists achieved miracles in an era when modern communication and information technology were nonexistent. Anand and Sheetal Ranganathan have beautifully narrated their stories of perseverance, toil, trials, and eventual success.
This is a must-read book for science students and anyone interested in understanding the greatness of India’s scientific tradition. One cannot conclude without urging policymakers to institute an Indian equivalent of the Nobel Prize to recognize and honour the outstanding contributions of our scientists and researchers.
Forgotten Heroes of Indian Science
Anand & Sheetal Ranganathan
PENGUIN
Rs 999/-
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