The Man Who Knew Infinity

I have to form myself,

as I have never really formed before,

and try to help you to form some sort of reasoned estimate

of the most romantic figure

in the recent history of mathematics.

Ramanujan was an Indian,

and I suppose that it is always a little difficult

for an Englishman and an Indian

to understand one another properly.

I owe more to him than to anyone else in the world,

and my association with him is the one romantic incident of my life.

He was, in a way, my discovery.

I did not invent him.

Like other great men, he invented himself.

The difficulty for me, then,

is not that I do not know enough about him,

but that I know and feel too much.

You can also see I've been conducting

my own mathematical researches.

You've no degree. You're unemployable.

I'll write you a recommendation. Maybe someone...

With all due respect, sir, I have recommendations.

What I need is a job.

Please. I have a wife.

You people are all the same.

Now get out. Now!

I'm doomed, like Galileo.

He died in poverty, you know.

At least you hold yourself in good esteem.

Whatever is written in your fate will happen.

You can't change that.

My fate is to have a wife who lives with my mother

while I sleep here with you all because

the British think I'm a raving lunatic.

As do we Indians.

Where did you get your degree?

I don't have one.

- How many do you have? - None.

- Who else have you shown this to? - Everyone.

The British. The Indians. They all send me to someone else.

I can offer you a job,

but your evenings will have to be spent in helping me understand this.

A job?

- Do we have an agreement? - Yes.

- Most certainly, sir. - Good.

Send for your wife so you can be together.

And put this on.

Follow me.

Sir Francis, here are today's ledgers.

And our new clerk.

Narayana, how long have you worked for me?

Since I helped to design the bridge on the Godavari,

which now requires me to call you "Sir".

Sir Francis.

This man looks as if he lives on the streets.

- Get him out of here. Sir, please.

Forgive my appearance,

but I really am quite exceptional with numbers.

What you might see now is ordinary glass,

I promise you will soon remain to see a diamond.

Well...

Your accounts had better be half as polished as your ego.

Amma, this is it.

It's the best I could do for now.

It's a home.

Please.

Where is the kitchen?

It's inside.

Ah! (CHUCKLES)

From the wedding.

Don't worry. I will sleep on the floor.

I'm used to it.

I have to go back to work now.

Why aren't you using the abacus?

It was faster in my head.

Impressive.

If Sir Francis comes here, at least pretend to use this.

Hmm.

I see you've been working on your own formulas.

Paper is a precious commodity here.

You'll find plenty of packing down at the docks.

Thank you, sir.

See you tonight.

Ramanujan,

we need to seek an audience

with someone who really understands all this.

I've been to everyone in Madras.

Madras.

Did you know that the name derives from Mandarajya?

"The realm of the stupid."

There's a whole world out there.

And there's England.

You don't come home.

It is I who owe the apology for keeping him.

I think it's enough for tonight, Ramanujan.

I'm sorry.

I was told you love numbers more than people.

Some.

Not you.

Perhaps we can start over.

I am Ramanujan.

And I am your wife.

Go ahead. You can look.

Please.

What does it all do?

It's like a painting, I think.

Only imagine it is with colors you cannot see.

What good is that?

Not much for you, I'm afraid. But for me it is everything.

Maybe there is someone else who can

see and understand it as well.

And for them it will be important.

Have you met them?

No. Not yet.

I want to understand more than just colors I can't see.

What do you see?

- Sand. - Yes.

Imagine, if we could look so closely, we could see each grain,

each particle.

You see, there are... There are patterns in everything.

The color in light.

The reflections on water.

In maths, these patterns reveal themselves

in the most incredible form.

It's quite beautiful.

You should sleep in the bed.

- Amma. - Hmm?

I have made a friend in my boss.

He's going to find somebody to understand my work outside Madras.

Outside India.

That is an honor.

What nonsense are you talking?

Amma, he sees something in me.

He surely sees enough of you. You're never here at home.

Kanna, we are Brahmins.

It is forbidden to cross the seas.

Ramanujan?

Ramanujan, listen to me.

This work is too important to die with you.

It must be published.

If you, an Indian, are at the pinnacle with these formulas,

then the British, even while they subjugate us,

must recognize that our brightest matches theirs.

Anna, please.

I can't.

You have been alone in your mind your whole life.

Now other people have the chance to understand you.

Not just your Namagiri.

Imagine.

All I do is imagine.

These first two letters...

Baker.

Hobson.

And who's this?

Oh, that's, er... That's Hardy. He's a real pot stirrer.

You know, he single-handedly reformed

the entire Tripos examination system.

Turned over hundreds of years of history.

He's your man.

Trinity, eh?

Kings, prime ministers.

Isaac Newton. Byron.

Now perhaps even you.

Hmm.

Trouble on the Continent?

There will be.

We beat the Frogs by a goal at Twickenham.

I meant in the Balkans.

Ah, the Balkans.

You've got one there seems particularly well traveled.

Do you think it's another hoax?

Hmm.

"I beg to introduce myself as a clerk in the Accounts Department."

- What this time? - Quite impressive, really.

Someone's gone to a lot of trouble.

A Hindu clerk!

And who claims he can give meaning

to the negative values of the gamma function.

- Littlewood? - Without doubt.

You know, Littlewood,

this year alone, I've received correspondence

from those who profess

to prove the prophetic wisdom of the Pyramids,

the revelations of the Elders of Zion,

and the cryptograms, which Bacon supposedly buried

within the plays of the so-called Shakespeare.

But a letter from an ill-educated Indian clerk in Madras,

challenging assertions I made in the tracts series,

really takes the biscuit.

Well, I have to say, I've made similar assertions myself.

So you admit it?

But this was three years ago.

No, no, no. I'm talking about the letter.

Bloody brilliant, I thought. I don't know where you got the postmark.

Almost had me fooled.

I simply don't know what you're talking about.

Oh, come on. I'm not a complete idiot.

I don't know how to get this into your thick skull,