He would no doubt have greeted, with his slightly mocking smile, the idea that he might be spoken of after his death. Forty-two years as a professor of Advanced Mathematics, first at St Joseph's College in Trichinopoly and then especially at Loyola College in Madras, was certainly not worth mentioning in his eyes. However, he could not prevent his Jesuit colleagues, his former students, and his friends from expressing their admiration and gratitude for what he represented to them.

Therefore, after a few details of dates and places in his life, we will let these witnesses speak for themselves

He was born on 22 July 1897, in Tonnay, Charente. On the same day in July 1917, at the hospital in Parthenay, he decided on the direction of his life. He was being treated at the military clinic, where the surgeons were trying in vain to repair his leg near Noyon; the kick from a particularly vicious animal had left him disabled for life. He was one of the first veterans to enter the novitiate in Mons, Gers, in 1919. He was ordained a priest in Enghien, Belgium, on August 25, 1929. In 1932, he defended a brilliant doctoral thesis in Mathematics at the Sorbonne, entitled "The Problem of Bodies in the Theory of Relativity," and in 1934, he embarked for India.

Let us first quote the testimony of Fr Murphy, one of his companions from Loyola College, and one of the pioneers of the Institution, with his amiable Irish humour:

Fr Racine received death as an expected guest, to whom the door was always open. Having suffered from a heart condition for a long time, he was accustomed, in the summer, to flee the heat of Madras to spend his holidays in Bangalore, a city with a torrid climate, and undergo a medical examination at the Good Shepherd Hospital. It was there that, about fifteen days into his 80th year, he 'took leave,' as we say, and departed. His body was immediately transported to Madras, and we were able to hold a funeral Mass, concelebrated by the archbishop and about thirty Jesuits.

One might have imagined Father Racine as a recluse, absorbed in his mathematics, and rarely seen outside the College grounds. It was therefore a shock for us to see the College church packed for the ceremony, and a moment of astonishment to find how well-known this figure was, although the official announcement of his death was made only hours after the funeral.

In 1938, after 5 years of teaching at Trichinopoly, he arrived at Loyola College, where he would remain until the end, an eminent professor of the 'most sublime mathematics' for the preparatory students for advanced degrees in the field. In India, he was considered very exceptionally competent in his area, and France recognised his worth and services by making him a Knight of the Legion of Honour in 1963.

All the young Indians he trained in turn became eminent mathematicians and distinguished themselves in the field of research, particularly at the highly selective Tata Institute for Basic Research, as well as in teaching at various universities.

Father Racine had a keen sense of humour and was gifted with a sharp wit, pleasant but unpretentious. No one, however, would have called him emotional. And yet, he inspired in his students delicate feelings of admiration and gratitude. To mark his sixtieth birthday, a group of his alumni established two scholarships in his name and, on another occasion, offered a prize (the Racine Prize) which he himself would award to the student whom he judged to have made the greatest contribution to the sublime science of mathematics.

As a religious man, one could say that he lived his community life perfectly; he was, moreover, charged with "exhorting" his companions in regular conferences that he prepared with the greatest care. He heard confessions and preached in communities of nuns in the city. One might have thought him lost in the clouds, grappling with quantum theories and the infinite mysteries of number, but he often surprised you with the keen interest he took in the problems of the poor. He did everything he could to help them with his advice and sympathy, and showed concern when he didn't hear from them. He couldn't give away money, being a religious man and poor - even the amount of his personal assets would probably have been worth ten francs.

Indifferent to his own comfort, he displayed unfailing courtesy towards his visitors. And Father Murphy concluded: "There you have the true Frenchman." In Chaucer's Old English, one could express what Father Racine was: "He was a veryy parfit gentil knight." (He was truly a perfect gentleman.)

A gentleman, in the French sense, we would say, with all that this implies of kindness, courtesy, as well as simplicity, and perfect integrity and nobility of character.

Here now is the statement from the Indian National Academy of Sciences:

It is with deep regret that we learned the sad news of the passing of Professor Charles Racine. The members of the National Academy of Sciences, of which he was an esteemed colleague, are in mourning, and his death is a great loss to our scientific community.

On behalf of all his colleagues in our Academy, we ask you to convey our sincere condolences to his family.

Father Racine was born at Tomay-Charente in France in 1897. He enlisted for active service in the First World War in 1916 and was demobilised three years later after an ankle injury that left a limp for the rest of his life. He then entered the Jesuit order and was ordained a priest in 1929. He spent four years studying mathematics in Paris and obtained a doctorate in 1934. He was sent to India to work at St. Joseph's College, Tiruchirappalli. He moved to Loyola College, Madras in 1939 and stayed there till his death in 1976, nine years after his retirement in 1967.

Father Racine had worked with Élie Cartan and Hadamard, both legendary figures in mathematics. He counted André Weil and Henri Cartan (another famous mathematician and Élie Cartan's son) among his friends. With this background, Racine naturally had an excellent perspective on mathematics, which he brought to India with him. He began weaning some Indian mathematicians away from traditional Cambridge-inspired areas and Minakshi was his first big success; and there was a galaxy of brilliant students to follow; the list would occupy substantial space in any 'who's who' of Indian mathematics. To mention a few names: K G Ramanathan, C S Seshadri, M S Narasimhan, Raghavan Narasimhan, C P Ramanujam.

Father Racine was apparently not an exciting speaker. Students found his classroom lectures difficult to follow. His French accent combined with what amounted to mumbling to the blackboard, made things worse. It was, however, outside the classroom that his influence was decisive. He was remarkably good at spotting talent and then encouraging it. He liked talking informally to his students, especially the talented ones and gave them invaluable advice in their career decisions. Mathematical activity was by no means Father Racine's sole preoccupation. Apparently, he was a spiritual adviser to the Jesuit community of the college and was engaged in resolving personal problems for the Catholic laity around him. The French government conferred on him the coveted 'Legion d'honneur' in 1962. In all the 42 years he spent in India, he made only two trips to France; yet he remained very much a Frenchman. But there can be little doubt that he loved India more than France. I was not privileged to be his student, but remember with pleasure the one long and informal meeting I had with him in the company of my teacher M S Narasimhan. He was an excellent example - by no means unique - of the coexistence of the cassock with a lively disposition.

Life in the Society tends to be almost entirely individualistic. Rome from time to time reminds us of the necessity of a communitarian interest. Fr Racine was both an individual and a community man. His whole life seemed (repeat seemed) to be wrapped up between $a, b, c$ and $x, y, z$. He had his lectures with the postgraduates and then back to quantum theory, or whatever, in his room with complete absorption. But he was always at your disposal. So apart from the college timetable he always had time for the researcher. Hours passed by unnoticed in this helpful company with lasting effect. Not only did his students easily succeed in entering the highly placed research laboratories of the Tatas but they treasured his memory with the deepest affection. Those who know Fr Racine in the casual way of a long acquaintance would think a pumpkin had more affection, but this is what an old student writes:

The debt of gratitude that I owe to Fr Racine is immeasurable ... I remember the great amount of care he took for me ... not only in Mathematics but in other problems of life. What is more, he had an affection for me which reminds me of my mother and father ... He used to bless me every year at New Year's time ....

He was a lively, religious, musically inclined and generous priest with a sense of humour who chose to be generous in helping the needy even if it meant to be poor. Having no option but to endure physical pain all his life, he devised ways to circumvent his war-sustained leg pain which made walking difficult, by having blackboards fixed outside rooms so that he could tutor any student on the spot when anyone needed his help. Apart from the pain in his leg, he used to get sneezing bouts of which he kept a count too - very curiously sneezes stopped at thirteen, or on exceptional days at sixteen. But what turned out to be fatal later was having a heart ailment for which he often took medicines. Apparently, he never bolted the doors of his living quarters, just in case his condition aggravated. His heart condition made him visit Bangalore every summer for his annual check-up at Bon Pasteur Hospital. It was during one such visit that he passed away on 5th August 1976, just fifteen days after his birthday. But his funeral services were held in Madras at the Church of Loyola College. To everyone's surprise, even at a short notice, it was attended by countless students and persons whose lives he had gently touched, and he was buried in the same premises where he had mentored his wards.

Fr Racine was a mentor not only of me, but also for almost all of that whole generation of mathematicians. He was a member of the Society of Jesus, or Jesuits as they are called, and Loyola College is run by them. He taught in Loyola College, and presumably earlier in Trichy too. And the amazing thing was that he was in touch with many of the modern developments in mathematics. He was also a close friend of many top French mathematicians of the day like Jean Leray. In fact, he was a PhD student of Élie Cartan himself.

At that time, if at all there was a subject that was taught well in mathematics in Indian universities, it was analysis. We had never even heard of modern algebra or anything else. Mostly, some bad textbooks in the British genre of applied mathematics were used. As a refreshing change, and for the first time, at least in south India, Racine introduced algebra - the so-called modern algebra of that time, and what you would now simply call algebra. And it was taught very well. The way it was taught was by insisting not only on computations, but also on concepts. This gave one a slightly different view of mathematics than what you would normally get. And also, somehow, he induced in motivated students, mainly by talking to them, a realisation and understanding of what was deep mathematics and what was not. In a sense, he cultivated some kind of a mathematical taste in his students. It's all very difficult to explain in precise terms what mathematical taste is. Without yourself being aware of it, you were actually moving into a different level of mathematical appreciation and knowledge, thanks to his mentoring.

He taught only the honours class, and never used to teach in the first year. However, he still wanted to get in touch with his students before teaching them. So on Monday mornings, there used to be a catechism class in Loyola College, which was meant for Catholics. The other students had something called a moral instruction class. Racine used to take the moral instruction class, the idea being to get to know the students whom he would teach mathematics. But the only thing he used to do was to come to the classroom and write letters, doing his own work, while the students were mostly just left alone. One day, I still remember, he came in with a serious face and said, "The Indian mathematician Pillai has died in an accident, and let us stand up in silence and pay our respects." Of course, we had never heard of S S Pillai at that stage.

The honours class size was 30 or 35 students. It was sort of an open classroom setting, with French windows, and you could just walk outside, across the class. I actually used to walk out of his classes sometimes when he was not looking. At the end of the first term though, I did very well in my exam and I was noticed by him, and after that I could not walk out of the class!

I got to know him fairly well from then on. More seriously, I think that was the way in which I first got exposed to some kind of mathematics at a high level.

I mentioned that algebra was introduced in our honours course curriculum. The book by van der Waerden, in my opinion the best book on the subject, was the book that was followed in our class. There was only a German edition of the book available then. Racine used to personally translate it into English, type it on his own like the French usually do, and distribute notes - because there was no good textbook in English at the time. Somehow, I came to know that there was an English edition that had just then become available in Higginbothams, the bookstore on Mount Road. I went there and ordered two volumes of the English translation, which was somewhat of a strain on our finances at the time. Anyway, I got them, and went to Racine and showed them to him.

"How did you get it?" he asked me. He didn't know there was an English translation because he didn't care. He had a German version and he could read German. In the first English edition, there were some wrong translations. So when I had some problems following it, I used to go and ask Racine. He would immediately consult his own copy of the book in German and would agree that I was right, and help me along too.

But coming back to describing Racine, I wouldn't call him a very good teacher in the usual sense. I mean, in terms of teaching courses, he just used to give these notes, which were well-written; you just read it yourself. Importantly, if he found that some students were good at mathematics and interested in it, he used to meet them outside the class and talk to them personally, one on one, and that's how it really happened. Also, I don't think he ever told us about Élie Cartan, or his own education.

I must also say that there was a very good analysis teacher there. Again, the notes for analysis were prepared by Racine. His notes on algebra and analysis are still available with me. One of the things which he did for the analysis course - which he didn't teach but for which his notes were used - was to bring in some topological concepts very clearly. Ideas like open sets, closed sets in $\mathbb{R}^{n}$ [the $n$-dimensional space] and all that. So when we went on to learn set topology, it was an easy transition. Usually, following the old textbooks or even the book by G H Hardy, you would not know what an open set was. Some even used archaic terminology such as cluster points, resulting in confusion.

In other words, one of the main things Racine did was to bring in new ideas which either he himself taught, or which some other good lecturer taught. He introduced to us new material like algebra, and thereby inculcated a completely new and different way of thinking. Direct contact with him in conversations outside the class also helped immensely.

By the way, my first publication was in the Mathematics Student. In those days, the Mathematics Student used to pose problems, which sort of challenged students. If someone solved it, the solution along with the name of the person would appear in the next issue. I solved one of the problems and that's how my first "publication" happened.

Before I came into contact with Racine, I also did some piece of research on my own, and actually wrote down a paper on triangle geometry, which I then gave to my teacher. He in turn took it to Racine. Racine told my teacher, "This student looks clever, but he should know that this is neither the kind of mathematics we do nowadays, nor should he be doing."

If I were stupid, I would have got upset and discouraged. But somehow, I think I had the good sense to understand what he meant. And I could eventually make this transition when I came into contact with him. I believe that one should know, ideally at an early stage, what is the kind of mathematics one should study. The required clarity of thought in my own case actually came from my contact with Racine. Most of the time during our college education, all we knew was only Euclid. While a study of Euclid in school days is important and is what fascinates many students, even attracting many of them to mathematics, it is equally essential to know that geometry had indeed moved far beyond Euclid. Quite recently, this was the topic of one of the public lectures I gave, "Geometry beyond Euclid". Young students must know what exists beyond Euclid. That's the kind of role Racine used to play.

I'm reminded of a story about Leray. It seems Racine gave lectures on sheaf theory in Madras (maybe in Madras University) when Leray's work first appeared. People wouldn't believe this when I used to say it before. Anyway, here it is. I once spoke about Racine's lectures on sheaf theory to Armand Borel, and he was not surprised. Apparently, when Borel was first reading Leray's papers, he consulted the review journal Zentralblatt MATH, to see if it carried reviews of these rather difficult to follow papers of Leray. In Zentralblatt, Borel found two or three reviews of the works of Leray, stating "By Racine, (Madras)".