In its popular telling, Ramanujan’s story is one of discovery at various levels: his solitary pursuit of mathematical proofs in his Port Trust office, having been denied a college degree because of failure to clear non-mathematical subjects; his letters to the greatest mathematicians of the day seeking comment on his work, letters that went unheeded till the reply from Hardy came.

Leavitt’s book, in fact, begins with the arrival of the letter at Hardy’s home. Hardy wonders whether it is a practical joke, but there is something absolutely compelling in the manner in which the proofs are presented. Hardy arranges for Ramanujan to come to Trinity College, takes care of him as best as his reserve allows him to. Ramanujan gets his degree, and affirmation of his exceptional work in election to the London Mathematical Society and fellowship of the Royal Society and Trinity College. Diagnosed soon after with tuberculosis, he is first moved to a sanatorium and then back to Kumbakonam. By the age of 33 he was dead.

Hardy, a bachelor, was no less a fascinating life. He partook of the full gamut of intellectual life at Cambridge, but was so private a person that he could not, as Desai recalls, address his closest friends by the first names. “He was so private,” says Desai, “that he could not bring himself to ask Ramanujan whether he had eaten properly.” So, there was “absolute cultural non-communication” and “complete communication in mathematics”, the latter leading to major contributions in theory of numbers.

... contd.