A couple of decades later, well after he might have hung his boots, Raju Hirani’s filmography could well be defined by cinema historians in a single phrase – Movies with a heart. His two Munnabhai ventures and the latest ‘idiotic’ expression (you could very easily call it Munnabhai 3 for that matter) are less about love, friendship and relationships and more about listening and following that instinctive beat on the left side of your ribcage. I must admit I was a bit of a skeptic when I saw the first Munnabhai movie. I sensed that Hirani hit the right issues but showed too mushy and melodramatic a way out. I guess it was just a bit of my realistic cynicism that initially rejected the ‘jadoo ki jhappi’. I saw Munnabhai MBBS thrice before turning around partially. By the time I saw Raju Hirani’s take on Gandhigiri (going to the movie alone with the parents away on a break from me) I was a convert. Through the movie, I was amazed at the refreshing take that Hirani brought on Gandhi, an individual I greatly admired but cynically (again) believed had moved too far away in history for India to reclaim him on anything other than currency notes. With his third flick, Hirani touches upon a topic that has been covered briefly before – Bollywood’s angst ridden unemployed hero of the 80s finding no use for his graduation degree, Munnabhai himself deriding medical education that treated real patients as lab guinea pigs and Aamir Khan’s own recent directorial debut that focused on the mad desire of the parents of school going kids to see them topping their classes.

3 Idiots goes a bit further and takes on the foundations on which our higher education and dare I say much of our endeavors post that rest. Before I make another critical comment on the same a disclaimer may be in order. I am very much myself a part of that system. I have been through my share of Board exam criticality talks, my mother taking a break from work during the exams themselves to ensure my three meals a day and remaining nutrition wasn’t affected during the lead up to the papers, my father silently enquiring about my preparations and then my evaluation of the performance during both the Boards and my CA exams. I have run around coaching institutes during my CA days, borrowed and copied notes, learned a lot of mumbo-jumbo by rote (forgotten almost all of it by now) and primed myself by pasting a planner with exam days and key preparation milestones on my room wall next to the study table. I might not agree with what our manner of learning produces but I must be fair enough to attribute my current position (whether good or bad) to it.

I was reminded of the same during a conversation with a couple of colleagues and my boss on a wet summer night in New Jersey about five months ago. On a dinner table populated by Engineers + MBAs and a lone B.Com + CA, I was the only one arguing against the rat race that our kids enter into high school onwards and how engineering colleges and professional degrees often are seen symbols of societal validation to be attained rather than merely as routes of academic knowledge occurring on a journey aroused by interest and liking. I wouldn’t want my kid to go through an engineering college if I could help it, I remember saying that night. Obviously it didn’t go down too well with the engineers present. It was then that my boss reminded me that it was no use if you thumbed the rat race but still remained a turtle in life. You may not like it Aftab Khanna he told me, but you are here sitting here in America because you worked hard and came out the same competitive professional system that you now very happily curse.

Yes, America…the ultimate symbol of your having arrived in your career. Remember our mothers telling us during those high school and college days about so and so’s son going to the US, sponsored by his ‘kampany’. I must confess I was lost for an answer on that dinner table at the end of the argument, wondering if I was failing to see the greys in the jigsaw and making the same mistake of thinking in a linear fashion, albeit in the opposite direction, as I shunned everything about our higher education. It was only later that night that my tubelight hit a fuse in the brain and I thought – Heck, I could have done anything other than CA, excelled at it and perhaps still landed in the US by the time I was 26. So much for an American visa!

Which is what Hirani tries to communicate with his Idiots. Its presented quite simply through the contrast between the rote learning, spectacled bookworm and easy going protagonist who can find simple solutions to everyday problems by being able to ‘apply’ his knowledge beyond the books. Its a movie without many layers and in a straightforward way it critiques the mad rush of the educated young of the Indian middle class towards societal validation masquerading as ‘success’; a message captured in a single line that a father says to his son when presented with an alternative career decision, ‘Guptaji kya kahenge?’. Hirani makes a call to listen to the heart and go after ‘excellence’ (a fluid, hard to define word) rather than marks and easy acceptable choices. It is a movie as much about self-discovery as about summoning the will to stand for your choices.

But it is the movie’s critique about the assembly line of GPA, marks, ranks and job chasing professionals that shall arouse the most questions, especially if, like me, you are very much a product of that system. Is success measured by the size of that pay cheque, the suburban apartment or house and that big luxury car outside that house? In an India increasingly experience an upward mobility of a huge mass of its people, it’s a question worth putting forward. In a debate where, over the last two decades, we had chosen Amitabh Bachchan’s ‘bangla, gaadi and bank balance’ over Shashi Kapoor’s just ‘Maa’, Hirani and Shimit Amin’s Rocket Singh that came out a couple of weeks ago, make a pitch for a middle ground for morally driven achievement driven by passion rather than naked hunger of wealth and ‘success’.

I remember my school principle, a lady whom I deeply respect and admire for the simplicity and clarity of her thoughts remarking repeatedly that the there was only slot at the top and it was tougher to stay there than getting there – a remark I heard every time she saw the ‘Ist’ rank on my report card. I was a bit apprehensive to be open about it then, but I silently disagreed with her. Over the years I have seen enough people make good in life who had been written off in school examinations. A close friend who flunked a class X subject and then gave ‘compartment’ exams a few months later with borrowed notes is a young confident lawyer receiving global offers. A cousin written off by many in the family as hopeless was just waiting to be thrown into the big bad world on his own away from us cynics to chart a course that has literally taken him places. The best Chartered Accountant I worked with during my three years with a global accounting firm was someone who missed figuring in our Institute’s merit list by half a dozen marks and who at an age of 28 can easily teach a thing or two to many senior partners of the firm. There might not be certificates to prove examinational excellence for these people, but in their own right they have found a measure of success, all because somewhere they perhaps found a calling. Yes, it’s tough being at the top and you can’t survive in a competitive world by just standing and not moving your hands. But surely, our children can be allowed to chose their battles, be given the freedom to explore fields to compete. That I guess is Raju Hirani’s message for many of us wondering where we have landed up and where we are headed (a mid life crisis possibly?). Perhaps its not worth chasing what we are running after. Perhaps the chase lies on a road we locked years ago in a corner of the study table.

Almost a decade ago, inspired by the many armymen in the family and flush with seeing images of the Kargil war I had developed a slight interest in the Services as a career option. In a pre-internet age, I remember responding to an Army newspaper advertisement that carried a small chit that you could mail back to Army HQ for a detailed brochure. My mother saw me sending the mail, was not too enthused but didn’t say anything openly. My father, who had been used to hearing his son announcing that he wanted to be CA (or a journo) for a few years now, didn’t respond initially. A few days later, on a car ride, he softly brought up the subject of my letter. I don’t mind your joining the forces, I remember him telling me, but make sure that you do it with a full heart. I want you to excel in what you eventually do, he told me,…I want you to aim for being the best amongst those around you and you would easily reach the top. He would have liked Raju Hirani’s 3 Idiots I think. Much like Raju’s heroes, he was a man with a big heart.

P.S. – Quite liked Kareena Kapoor for once btw. Cute like someone I know... ;)

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I was in Amritsar over the weekend and let me tell you that all the things people said about the wonderful food you can get in that city are true. I am neither a foodie nor a food expert (I am assuming you can be one with being the other) but even my limited senses of taste and tongue were left with a craving of partial satisfaction. I wanted one more dinner or one more lunch. Thanks to a friend, whose brother’s wedding I was attending, I sampled quite a bit of the local stuff. The theme for one of the lunches at the wedding house was itself ‘Amritsari food’ and in there I sampled Sugarcane juice (after ages!), kulcha and chhole; thin, crisp pooris with aloo ka subzi, some amazing carrot pickle, sweet but sublime phirni and an amazing gur ka halwa that I now regret at having just taken a single serving of. On both the nights of the wedding functions (sagan and the baraat night), the variety of non-vegetarian food on offer was tempting and hard to ignore. I had some succulent lamb kebabs and amazing rogan josh (a Kashmiri and not Amritsari dish though). The chopped up mutton served dry and fresh from the kadhai needed three servings to satisfy the buds and the meal was capped off with gajar ka halwa for dessert. Now I am a bit of prick for gajar ka halwa since I have been used to having some every winter at home made by my mother. Gajar ka halwa as a wedding dessert has rarely appealed to me. There is too much khoya to compensate for sweetness and the carrots are always a pale red in color. On this occasion though, the sweetness was just right, the carrots juicy red and the dry fruits were spread liberally to create a brilliant dessert. I found myself recommending the same to practically everyone I talked to later that night.

If you are in Amritsar then you have to do two things for sure – visit the Golden Temple and the Wagah border (apart from the eating that I mentioned above). My friend, who was co-ordinating transport for almost 50-60 out of town guests, bemoaned the fact that most of his baraatis wanted to rush straight to the temple from the railway station. The poor fellow struggled in vain to persuade them to offload their luggage at the hotel first and have a meal at the wedding home. Now I am not sure how it works, and perhaps I do not even care enough, but there was this strange sentiment amongst those headed to the temple to not take liquor or non-vegetarian food prior to visit. I saw the poor mutton being abandoned and the bar being deserted by men who couldn’t separate themselves from either the night before (And post the visit they were back to mutton and whiskey at night).

Wagah though makes no pious demands from you. All it requires are strong vocal chords and a little bit of enthusiasm. We went there on a Saturday expecting huge crowds and sure, the seats were filled. Someone in the group arranged for VIP access (that typical and shameful Indian privilege) and we got quite decent seats to watch the action from. Both the BSF and the Pakistan Rangers men turned up dressed in their regal uniforms, though the BSF guys had some trouble maintaining their elaborate head gear that kept slipping on them occasionally. The announcers from both sides worked their audiences and cries of ‘Bharat Mata ki jai’ and ‘Hindustan Zindabad’ went up the air. It was pop patriotism at its best. The audience was egged on to out-shout their Pakistani counterparts and many in the crowd took it open themselves to lead the slogan shouting. The entire martial spectacle obviously rouses emotions which quickly get dispelled the moment it is all over. Everyone rushes in a stampede like fashion to get a glimpse of the border gates, get photographs clicked with the BSF guards and then it’s back to usual grind of littering garbage at the bus stand, leering at women and being the model Indian citizen. Two things about Wagah that day though – First, while the Indian stands were packed to the seams, the Pakistani stands were half empty. Now I imagine it might have been because it was the day of Bakr Eid but I wonder if there are larger signs to be read into the same. The second – Indians of all faiths and colors and foreign tourists alike, no one had a problem shouting ‘Vande Mataram’ that evening.

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It is election season once again (no I am not talking about the Jharkhand polls. Ha! Caught you didn’t I? You barely knew there were polls going on in poor Maoist infested Jharkhand). It is election season for the ‘vibrant’ and ‘esteemed’ community of Chartered Accountants (this is not an attempt at self-aggrandizement but simply words that I have picked up from one of the myriad campaign mails that have flooded my inbox over the last two days). Being a professional community, the campaigning is also professional. SMSes, emails and telephone calls are passé. They are the lowest common denominator. Candidates resort to innovative vote catching methods. One of them is alumni meets. A candidate tries to align himself with some entity or a CA coaching institution and an invitation is sent for an alumni party calling all to attend and of course in return for a free night of socializing, light ego massage, food and drinks (depending upon average age profile of alumni and the social sophistication of the candidate) the attendees are expected to vote for the implicit host. Some of the candidates with more elaborate social connections organize musical nights to promote their agenda for the development of the profession. I was told that during the last election one candidate had girls standing outside the polling booth and handing over flowers to everyone coming out of the booth who had voted for him. How the girls managed to figure out who the voter had cast his preference for in the secret ballot is something that was not explained!

This takes me back to the last CA elections held in the winter of 2006. The firm I was employed with then had one of its senior partners standing as a candidate for the Central Council. The council is the supreme governing body of the profession and has equal representation from all the five zones of North, South, West, East and Central. Our region was North and six candidates had to be chosen out of a field of maybe ten to twelve. A large number of the resources of the firm were sent to polling booths on the voting day and I found myself with a senior colleague in a small town in North India overseeing a small election stall in the local town school. Only one observer was allowed in the actual polling room, the principal’s office, and my colleague was stationed there along with representatives of five of the other candidates. Being a small town, the number of eligible voters was limited; around 50 odd if I remember correctly. There was much bantering going on in the voting room with tea and snacks being served for the local representatives camped there. My colleague, slightly uncomfortable with the celebratory mood would keep coming out often. Voters came in at a trickle – 4 or 5 every hour. By late afternoon, I had wrapped up my stall and was all ready to scoot back to Delhi the moment voting got over at 6 in the evening. However, it was then that all the drama really began. With half an hour to go for the voting to end, my colleague and I were strolling in the school lawn when two of the local agents of the candidates came to us with a proposition. Only around half of the eligible votes had been cast. There was no point in ‘wasting’ the ‘precious’ remaining votes. Let us all oblige each other and split the remaining votes equally between the six candidates whose representatives were present. Signatures on the voter sheet could be forged and the school principal who was the returning officer for the town could be convinced. Quite obviously, we were taken aback. Our first and natural instinct was to refuse. ‘Nahin aaya koi to nahin sahi’, I remember my colleague remarking to the others. Ten minutes later, after a huddled conference between the other representatives, pat came another offer. We could take majority of the remaining votes for the Central Council (as many as we wanted!) but the North India Council votes had to go to their preferred candidate (a voter votes both for the Central as well as the Regional Council). We were cajoled to talk to our ‘seniors in Dilli’ and discuss with them. Voting had finished by now and the ballot box was yet to be sealed. My colleague and I, slightly disturbed, decided to call Delhi and inform the election managers of this offer and our intended response of refusal. Incredulously, the senior manager we spoke to responded by asking us, ‘What do you think? Should we accept this?’ Upon hearing this, my colleague insisted on speaking to the partner in charge of the campaigning, who promptly asked us to refuse any such deal making and leave the place immediately after sealing of the ballot box. Our response disappointed the local agents. They were guarded and muted in their remarks. I could sniggers of ‘Yeh Dilliwale kya jaane’ and exhortations of how ‘aadmi aadmi ke kaam aata hai’. Ballot boxes sealed, we rushed straight into our car and headed back home.

It is easy to understand the attachment small town CAs have for the elections. Infact, this holds true for most CAs outside the corporate or the Big 4 set up. As someone running his own practice, it is of immense benefit for you to have friends in the right places in the Institute of Chartered Accountants of India (ICAI). They ensure that your firm’s name comes up for empanelment for bank audits, that any disciplinary proceedings against you are ‘taken care’ of and that you constantly keep getting invitations for technical forums and seminars and other ‘social’ events. For many self employed CAs such an association carries the prospect of visibility, professional networking and improved social standing. How such deal making and shenanigans help the profession is something that I am yet to find out. All the campaign mails received by me thus far have been individual focused. So and so has been serving the profession for X years (usually above 15), has been on various committees of the Institute for X years and has done such and such while on such committees. In a year when the profession took its severest hit ever in the form of Satyam and its missing cash balance of Rs 5000cr, no one talks of the reform both the system of studies of CA (the new course requires students to choose between graduation or CA; if you want to pursue it post grad, be prepared to spend a minimum of 5 years) or the conduct of the members of the profession need. No one talks of how frauds like Satyam can be avoided and where the auditors are going wrong. No one talks of regulation and the Institute’s role. All you hear of are personal bio-datas, social gatherings and mud-slinging at others. Given all this, is it any surprise that Satyam happened and that the man who signed that Balance Sheet for many years and has been in jail since January, was a member of the Central Council and that had Satyam not broken out he would perhaps have become the President of the ICAI a month later?

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