‘Rags to riches’ used to be a quintessential Bollywood movie plot. Everyone loves real-life success stories. But now, the struggle stories have a new address — it’s called Mukherjee Nagar. This is where IAS, IPS, IFS, and IRS dreams are born.
And some die too.
So, it’s only natural that Bollywood is digging stories from Mukherjee Nagar. Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s latest movie 12th Fail is all about the ‘taiyyari kar rahe hain’ universe of people trapped in limboland for years, hoping to crack the prestigious UPSC examinations.
While the plot is strewn with cliché tropes, the movie doesn’t end up being ‘too filmy’. From costume to setting, Chopra’s 5,000-member team brought Mukherjee Nagar to the big screen in all its colours — chai stalls for discussing dreams and depression, classrooms with an air heavy with motivation and misery, squalid apartments with mostly books as furniture, and, of course, multitudes of faces showing either anxiety or exhilaration.
“Nothing was filmy in the film. The students were real, Mukherjee Nagar was real; the home was real,” says Chopra. “There was no makeup on Vikrant’s face. He spent days under the sun and his skin got burned,” he adds.
The movie has become an instant hit, with many touting it as Vikrant Massey’s (who plays the lead character, Manoj Kumar Sharma) best performance. It is based on Anurag Pathak’s 2016 book of the same name, which is inspired by the real-life story of IPS officer Manoj Kumar Sharma, who overcame extreme hardship and fulfilled his dream. Pathak wrote the book after years of helping a young Sharma through his journey — and the movie features the author in a character called Pandey, played by Anant V Joshi.
“It took me three years to write that book. I met Vinod sir in December 2019, and it took us four years to make this film. He has done ghanghor mehnat (extreme hard work) on every aspect—be it character, a particular scene, or screenplay,” says Pathak.
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Hindi vs English
A former UPSC aspirant himself, Pathak writes about his experience as a Hindi-medium student in the world of elite English-speaking competitors moulded for sarkari naukri —and the deep-seated biases that lay in between. “Country ke har kone se aa jate hain bhedh bakriyon ki tarah IAS banne. Padhai ki alawa har tarah ki mazdoori karte hain (They come like cattle from every corner of the country to become IAS officers. Except studying, they do all kinds of hard labour),” says an English-speaking aspirant in the movie.
For decades, Indian youth have been running after the prestigious badges of IAS, IPS, IFS, and IRS. Leaving the luxury of homes, however little it may be, they spend years with scarce resources in places like Mukherjee Nagar and Old Rajinder Nagar, the coaching hubs for UPSC aspirants in Delhi. Many from rural regions put almost everything at stake to enter into the great Indian bureaucracy.
But something seems to be changing. And it’s right on the horizon.
“In India, a large number of parents are incapable of sending their children to English medium schools. There is no doubt that Hindi medium students are in a weaker position [when it comes to clearing UPSC exams], but [now], they are doing better and we are seeing the result,” says Pathak.
A cursory look at the data reveals as much. In 2022, 54 Hindi-medium toppers made it to the final list; by comparison, the number was 24 in 2021. Each has a painful story to tell.
“Ye log khali haath nahi aate. Ye jazba lekar aate hain—ki ek din, ye bhi IAS, IPS banenge (These people do not come empty-handed. They come with enthusiasm—that they, too, will become IAS, IPS officers one day),” says Guddu bhaiya, a former UPSC aspirant who exhausted all his attempts and ultimately set up a tea stall in Mukherjee Nagar and gives advice to new aspirants.
The charm of civil services in India has only grown over the decades, from the colonial period, after Independence, the neoliberal ’90s to today. For many middle and lower-class families, UPSC is not just an exam but a way out of poverty. And the success rate is depressingly low — less than 1 per cent.
“When I came from Kashmir to make films, my success rate was also less than 1 per cent. If you want to do great things, then the success rate would be lesser,” says Chopra.
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‘Restart’
Clearing the UPSC exam is an endless Sisyphean struggle. From prelims to mains to the interview, getting stuck at any single stage takes one back to the start. And then it begins all over again — day in and day out, generation after generation.
“Out of 2 lakh students, only 25-40 become IAS, IPS. Rest 1,99,270 back to zero,” says a senior aspirant to Manoj Sharma in the movie when he first came to Mukherjee Nagar.
And this story of stop to restart is what 12th Fail capitalises on.
Strong characters, an inspirational story, and a deep current of emotion give one message — Don’t give up. “Haar nahi manunga (Will not accept defeat),” reads the poster.
And the struggle comes out best with the portrayal of the life of a poor Hindi-medium aspirant, who does odd jobs and tries to save some extra money even when his parents have invested their life’s savings in his preparation. He does face failure—but doesn’t buckle.
In the midst of all this, he falls in love—a word that many UPSC aspirants would rather stay away from. In 12th Fail, though, romance empowers rather than weakens ambition. “I watched their love grow in front of me. Their love story was not like the one where you fight the world. They made each other better. Love did not become the distraction in their journey,” says Pathak.
To the filmmakers, it is these details that bring UPSC aspirants closer to the average Indian’s struggles: Manoj’s story of rise and fall resonates with all. “This story is about the UPSC exam, but it is also the story about all of us,” says Chopra.
Coaching centres & commerce
12th Fail isn’t just a story about aspirants’ struggles. It gives a glimpse into the other side of the coaching industry, where commerce, not success, is the goal. Institutes pay toppers lakhs of rupees and obtain consent to use their photos in their advertisements.
In the movie, Manoj Sharma goes to a coaching centre and sees the photo of a topper hung proudly on the wall; only that he knew the topper never studied there.
“There is some confusion. Deep Mohan did not take coaching from here,” he naively says to the receptionist. “We paid him Rs 1.5 lakh for this,” says the latter.
Many coaching institutes feature the same topper in their advertisements. The compensation is either in the form of money, trips or stays in five-star hotels and resorts.
Some don’t even obtain consent from toppers. Facts are twisted and distorted—aspirants don’t even have to be enrolled in and actively participating in the class. Last-minute participation, such as purchasing a test series or notes, is seen as sufficient to claim the topper as the institute’s own.
‘Wardi’ & steel frame
In India, civil services are a means to elevate one’s social status. Usually, it is the eldest child in the family entrusted with the goal. The huge coaching industry, which manufactures battle-ready aspirants to take the UPSC exam, is kept going with the loans and secret savings of struggling families.
In Chopra’s movie, too, Manoj’s grandmother hands him all her savings from her pension. “You take this and come home wearing a wardi,” she says.
Mukherjee Nagar is full of hundreds of aspirants with similar stories. Manish Yadav, 28, came to Delhi with Rs 12,000 for his UPSC preparation and survived days on just biscuits and water. When he watched 12th Fail, he cried.
“It was like I was seeing myself on the big screen. People like us may not have money, but we have the enthusiasm to compete and prepare for the most difficult exam in this country,” he says.
While the movie shows a bleak picture of struggle and disappointment, it also inspires Yadav.
“I cried the most at the last scene where Manoj got to know he has become an IPS [officer] and called his mother. One day I will also make that call,” says Yadav, who is waiting for his UPSC mains result to be out.
(Edited by Humra Laeeq)