PAPA PLEASE PREACH

If Rajkumar Hirani's films were people, they'd be my favourite school teacher. Not the Einstein-haired caricatures from 3 Idiots, but that frumpy old professor that walks normal, dresses quirky, and tells stories with a questionable singsong voice. He is a tad melodramatic, sometimes uses sign language to drill in the message, but everyone understands him. He wipes out the blackboard, throws away the textbook and tells us to observe a baby instead. Instantly, our faces light up. What an unconventional teacher! Is this even allowed? What will the principal say? Hell, will our parents approve? But maybe he's onto something.

More so, if this baby is Aamir Khan. When on song, this Khan shares his enthusiasm for innovation. Naked, wide-eyed, flappyeared and stumped about why we're so worried about higher authorities. About rules and superstitions, like why the boy must always be taller than the girl. Suppose this baby grows in minutes, and somehow begins to speak our language — keep the necessary suspension of disbelief required for us to be in the teacher's funny class.

Baby will ask us why we spend two minutes reciting morning prayers. Or why we consume half a spoon of curd for good luck before exams. Do we always pass? We ask him if he is drunk ("Peekay aaya?") to question our parents' beliefs. But he asks us more questions. He shows us a shiny mirror that arrests our attention; it shows us exotic places like Bruges, Rajasthan and spunky girls (Anushka) who believe him.

To prove his point, this girl is taller than him. He doesn't mind. This mirror also shows us our reflection. We don't like what we see. We tell our elders about this magical classroom, these odd questions. Their only question: What colour was this baby? Put a face to this question and you'd get revered God-man Tapasvi (Saurabh Shukla), or for that matter, majority of the free world. They speak sense, but so does PK Baby. He speaks uncommon sense. I've been schooled about humanity in hospitals, about 'Gandhigiri' on Mumbai streets, and about the futility of Indian education systems. I've not always agreed with the manner of these lessons.

But I've let news channels with images of death and destruction teach me about religion. I've struggled to put down my opinions on paper, without using this r-word, 'blind' and 'God' together. Today, I see my garbled, reluctant voice on screen in the form of perhaps the finest, and most balanced mainstream film in years. More importantly, as serious as my views have been, I've never figured out how to laugh about them, while thinking, agreeing, cringing and nodding nervously. The two smartest screenwriters of our generation, Mr Hirani and Abhijat Joshi, have gone one better and crafted not so much as a movie as a relevant argument — with the usual ebbs and flows, dramatic flourishes, pauses and lapses in concentration (bloated second half) that characterise fierce debates. I can't describe their baby without giving away too much.

But rarely have I seen such a purposeful script, each scene merging into another rabble-rousing satirical set piece, peppered with actors at the top of their game. I can think of nobody but Aamir Khan as PK, and nobody but Rajkumar Hirani as our teacher. Take in what they say. Enjoy the way they say it. Make this mandatory for impressionable children waiting to hope. After all, these kids will be the ones in charge if extraterrestrials ever pop in to review our planet. And for once, let them think past the stars.