This play imagines India’s first woman particle physicist Bibha Chowdhuri’s fight against prejudices

Bibha: Ever since I can remember, I wanted to become a scientist. When I was nine, my father told me the story of Acharya Jagadish Chandra Bose – the first modern scientist to emerge from India after centuries of darkness. In the year 1900, Jagadish babu had shown to the world the tangible effects of the invisible electromagnetic waves that had been predicted by Maxwell nearly thirty years ago. Standing proud and alone in the hallowed lecture hall of the Royal Institution in London, Jagadish babu gave a dazzling demonstration of the power of science to the very people who had used it to enslave us for over a century. Since then, I dreamt of becoming like Jagadish Bose, who had given flesh and blood to Maxwell’s phantom waves; like Satyendra Nath Bose who, along with Einstein, had revealed the mathematics of photons. Like Meghnad Saha whose equations had shed light upon the workings of the sun itself. These were my heroes.

(Debendra Mohan Bose enters.)

Bose: In a land starved of heroes, my jyathamoshai is a true hero. My jyathamoshai – meaning my uncle, Acharya Jagadish Chandra Bose. My uncle is a truly great man. Perhaps a little too great, though…if only he had patented his work on electromagnetic waves, he would have been the first Asian to win a Nobel Prize. Not Tagore. And as early as 1908. Not 1913. But my uncle is too noble to care for a mere Nobel Prize. The work itself is the prize, he says, knowledge is for all humanity. Not for hoarding.

Bibha: Jagadish babu is like one of the rishis of yore, my father used to tell me. If you really want to become a scientist, you should seek his guidance. And so, in 1936, soon after completing my MSc , I requested a meeting with Jagadish babu. The great man gave me not only an audience, but also a letter of introduction to Debendra Mohan Bose, his nephew and Palit Professor of Physics at Calcutta University. (Bibha approaches Bose.)

Bibha: Good morning, sir.

Bose: Good morning. And you are?

Bibha: Bibha, sir. Bibha Chowdhuri. (She hands him over a letter.)

Bose: Yes, of course. (Polite smile at Bibha as he reads the letter.) Please take a seat.

Bibha: I am so nervous that I can barely speak. Debendra Mohan Bose is perhaps not as famous as his uncle, but he, too, has a formidable reputation. Comes from a distinguished Brahmo family. Brilliant academic record. A PhD from Cambridge, followed by pioneering research on cosmic rays in Berlin. Widely expected to succeed his uncle as Director of the Bose Institute.

Bose: Jyathamoshai says that I should consider you for the post of research assistant in my laboratory.

Bibha: I would be very grateful if –

Bose (cuts her off): You are Nalini’s cousin sister, is it not?

Bibha: Yes, sir. (To audience) Nalini di is Debendra babu’s wife. Which makes him…

Bose (to audience): Which makes her my shali. This is so…

Bibha (to audience): …awkward. (To Bose) How is Nalini di, sir?

Bose: She’s fine. Bibha, tell me something. Have you heard of the principle of relativity?

Bibha: Yes, Debendra babu. It states that the closer an object’s speed is to that of light, the greater is its mass and the lower is –

Bose: No, no, that is Einstein’s relativity. I am talking of Debendra Mohan Bose’s relativity principle.

Bibha: Is it different from Einstein’s?

Bose: Oh yes, completely! And much more useful in a place like Calcutta – where every Brahmo seems to be related to the other. I have, therefore, formulated my own principle of relativity which states: that the closer a person is related to me, the lower is his…or her…probability of working with me. And since you are my sister-in-law, that means –

Bibha: Sir, sir! That means that your mother-in-law’s sister’s husband is my paternal grandfather’s son.

Bose: What! What does that mean?

Bibha: That means that we are hardly close relatives, sir!

Bose: Close enough! In fact, far too close for you to work with me.

Bibha: But, sir, I have already worked for you.

Bose: Meaning?

Bibha: Sir, I have attended your lectures as part of my MSc course at Calcutta University. I had to work really hard to understand them. But they were so interesting, so fascinating that it didn’t seem like work, sir.

Bose (flattered): Really? You attended my lectures? My apologies for not recognising you!

Bibha: No, sir, it’s my fault. I was just a backbencher. Last row, last corner.

Bose: Ah, now that you mention it, I do remember this girl who used to attend some of my classes. The only one in the batch, in fact. So, that was you, was it?

Bibha: Yes, sir.

Bose: I see. And you have been awarded your MSc degree? (Bibha nods). In physics?

Bibha: Yes, sir.

Bose: I see. So, does this mean you are the first female postgraduate in physics from Calcutta University?

Bibha: I think so, sir. But the registrar will know better.

Bose: Indeed. In fact, you might even be the first woman in all of India with a postgraduate degree in physics! My congratulations.

Bibha: Thank you, sir.

Bose (to audience): This is a disaster. She is one of a kind, a totally unknown quantity. I really wish that jyathamoshai would confine his experiments to his laboratory and not mine.

Bibha (to audience): He looks at me as if I am an exotic new particle that has emerged out of nowhere. To convince him that I am not some theoretical, imaginary object, I need to provide evidence of my earthly existence. (To Bose) My birth certificate, sir. Degree certificate. Mark sheets. Certificate for proficiency in French. (Hands them over.) I also know a little German.

Bose (he looks at the certificates): You studied at Rajabazar Science College? Not Hindu College, eh? That’s where the brightest students go.

Bibha: Only the brightest men, sir. As far as I know, in its hundred-plus years of existence, the Hindu College has never admitted a woman.

Bose: Oh, yes, yes that’s true. Sorry. I had forgotten. But even then…(taps on her degree certificate)…only a second division?

Bibha: Yes, sir, only a second. (Lowers head and addresses audience) How do I tell him that it wasn’t easy to get even that? How would he know what it means to be the only woman in a college of 300 men? To walk past them…day after day…my head bowed, as 300 pairs of disbelieving eyes goggled at this exotic sari-clad creature who had suddenly barged into their exclusive club, reduced their spicy, juicy addas to embarrassed mutters…but worst of all, had struck an unknown fear into their hearts – the fear of being humiliated, of being outdone by a mere woman, in that most masculine of subjects – physics. A subject in which every law, every equation, every quantity had been named after a man. Apart from one solitary exception – the Curie, the unit of radioactivity. (To Bose) Yes, sir. I am sorry that I got only a second division. But if I am given a chance, I promise to work hard, sir. I will give you no cause for complaint.

Excerpted with permission from ‘Invisible Particles’ in Encounters with Infinity: Three Plays on Science History, Nilanjan P Choudhury, Speaking Tiger Books.