Director: Apoorv Singh Karki
Created by: Arunabh Kumar, Shreyansh Pandey
Writer: Deepesh Sumitra Jagdish
Cinematography: Georgi John, Arjun Kukreti
Edited by: Tushar Manocha
Starring: Naveen Kasturia, Shivankit Singh Parihar, Abhilash Thapliyal, Sunny Hinduja, Namita Dubey
Streaming on: YouTube
Technically, the spiritual name of almost every web series on The Viral Fever (TVF) is “Graduate Students”. Take Indian Universe Coaching Classes ™: FLAME,, Kota Factory,, Daze Hostel. Get Indian Job Blues Universe ™: Kani,, Cabins,, With your humor,, Panchayat. Take the Central Indian family universe ™Ye Mary Family,, Gulak,, Aam Aadmi Family): each of these families is characterized by an ambitious … graduate student. It’s a broad term, really. And then smart. A poorly governed country like India is capable of turning everything – including breathing – into aspiration. Nothing comes easy. The creators of TVF have invariably chosen to avoid the crippling struggle of academic and peer pressure to present a half-full picture: nostalgia, Yaron-Dosti, the love of the puppy. (Rockford it must be the TVF Bible.) As if the company’s motto is Make Education Great Again ™.
But if the fan base of millions is something to go through, it is clear that any kind of cultural representation – especially if it is pink in color and selective in memory, it is deeply appreciated. I guess these shows are reassuring for those on the hamster’s bike. The message “all is not lost” is therapeutic. Instead of blaming the opportunist system, TVF chooses to cure its inhabitants. After all, feeling seen is a privilege in the Third World.
Naturally, then, a series actually called Postgraduate students restores the definition to its most original form. You run a rat race, but you do run country. The Civil Service Exam (UPSC) sets the backdrop for three hopes of the IAS studying at the old Rajinder Nagar in Delhi. Maybe it’s time to understand the minds that want to change our nation. Who are these young people? What makes them curl? For good or bad, Postgraduate students is no this series. Over the years, most TVF Striver stories have understood one thing. The ambition in India stems from the desire to be someone instead of doing something. So these stories are not about children who dream of reaching the stars, they are about children who dream of leaving the earth. Middle-class protagonists strive for general status – wealth, power, high-paying jobs, exams – rather than specific ambition. The system is built to feed hunger, not passion: success is not a destination but a goal. Everyone is too seduced by the promise to pass to worry about where it will take him. Postgraduate studentsthere is also a central character, Abhilash Sharma (Naveen Kasturia), who is obsessed with performing his latest exam experience – this is a break year. He took a break from work. He is not an outsider who wants to undo the tragedy of his roots. He just wants to “break” it.
The first episode is actually all about Abilash, who chooses between History and Literature as his optional subject. The conflict – between the heart and the mind (he loves history, but literature increases his chances of noting) – remains limited to the parameters of the process. Then four of the five episodes focus on issues that have less to do with the profession being pursued than the basic culture of education itself. The second episode, for example, presents students facing a century-old difficulty: can unsuccessful professionals make great teachers? The fourth, the best of the batch, raises questions about the anatomy of success: does the Plan B mentality weaken its determination to succeed? Do the love stories that begin in the emotional prison of coaching epicenters go beyond the identity of crisis survival? What happens if one partner passes and the other is left behind? These are worthy common problems. Exploring them, the series refuses to alienate viewers who aspire to other areas of life – without sacrificing the atmosphere of public service travel. Fear is the glue that keeps friends together.
Strange, despite this setting, Postgraduate students from time to time he tries to break the character. The series gets mixed up when it tries to outline the nature of Abhilash as a story of awakening. Take the names of the characters: Abhilash, Dhairya, Pragati, Pratishtha (I’m joking about Pratishtha, but if you look closely enough, you may notice her as / in one of the candidates). The third episode, for example, is tedious in its efforts to “transform” Abhilash from a wanderer to a performer. Here, Abhilash should understand what it really takes to break up the UPSC – not just a brain to criticize, but also a heart to find solutions. Where have we heard this before? Therefore, we see him repairing bridges with his owner and saying things straight from Akshay Kumar’s social drama. The episode actually ends with Abilash, who has a hole filled and preaches about “change in society.” In the same vein, Postgraduate students commits another crime. In his great pursuit of basic importance, he succumbs to the pattern of a male Bollywood friend.
The series opens with an adult Abilash, who is already a hot employee of the IAS, teaches “aam togetherat a fraud stop with plastic bottles. This is a patronage scene right beyond the climax of 3 idiots. The rest of the series is interrupted between the intended day and the old days of the coaching class. The situation, we learn soon, is a hybrid of Dil UPSC Chahta Hai and UPSC Na Milegi Dobara: The hero Abhilash and the boy Jatt Guri (Shikhar Dhawan-esque Shivankit Singh Parihar) have a cold war, while the middle SK (distinctive Abhilash Thapliyal) is Saif / Abhay on a tripod. At one point, SK even referred Dil chahta hi in noise, but it does not release Postgraduate students from its derivative tone. Given that TVF has built a legacy of counterfeiting commercial Hindi cinema, these “meta” parts ironically look like counterfeit counterfeits – which in practice comes first.
The baby steps in the half-empty glass area is not completely catastrophic. Of course, there are the usual exciting professorial speeches, including tired metaphors of a turtle and a rabbit. But there is also a senior character in the style of Jeetu Bhaiya, who for the first time is a smoldering tragedy. Sunny Hinduja is inspired as Sunday, like Abhilash’s mentor roommate, who doesn’t just exist to inspire beginners. Sandeep’s is a common story and a rare case of TVF that recognizes the lesser side of aspiration. It defines the penultimate episode and its potentially iconic culmination, including exam results and slow rainfall. But just when you think Sandeep is the darkness that these shows have greatly missed, the last episode engages in an epic launch; another sentimental speech cancels all footwork.
The rest of the performances are good, even if some seem to be playing in the gallery of a fandom. As awkward as it may seem with a sarcaari mustache, it’s nice to see Naveen Kasturia return to this space after it erupts with the change of landscape Kani in 2015. It was created to order to play the man like Abhilash – determined but naive at once. Kasturia’s organic confused beta-male appearance may have limited his roles over time, but informs an important part of Abhilash’s rainbow. Abhilash puts his relationship in jeopardy as he portrays an Indian man who theorizes – not experiences – everything in life. He has learning knowledge about life, including love and relationships, which allows Kasturia to do Whiplashsuch a separation sequence seems feasible. He also humanizes the kind of open-minded student who idolizes the elderly so that he gets a legitimate justification to support his own philosophy.
With this in mind, I decide to end this review with a critical note – devoting a few lines to the irritating, over-intelligent, forced and frankly uncertain issue with TVF’s brand approval. It is no longer harmless. This is an entirely soul-selling definition: the plugs of the online learning app (which I refuse to name) are relentless Postgraduate students, ruining the rhythm of entire episodes. I understand that most webcasts are supported by their sponsors, but in every other scene, one character asks another if he downloaded the super great app and had access to its latest features. The screenwriters try to become sweet and integrate it into the setting, but I can almost feel the ink in the contract clauses. There is simply no way to avoid the creative compromise that a web series must make in order to exist. Dry mentions pull you out of Postgraduate students the universe and throw you out in the interval to grab money in a suburban multiplex – or worse, a pop-up ad that interferes with a YouTube video. I’m not sure this is a quest for young people today. But again, this flatters the spirit of future civil servants.