Title: Half CA 2
Director: Pratish Mehta
Cast: Gyanendra Tripathi, Ahsaas Channa, Anmol Jajani, Prit Kamani, Aishwarya Ojha
Where: Amazon MX Player
Rating: 3 Stars
Who would have thought debit and credit could double up as metaphors for life? Half CA 2, the sequel to TVF’s ode to the ever-suffering Chartered Accountancy aspirant, takes off with a recap and plunges into the grind of exams, internships, and the slow-burn tragedy of growing up. The series is less about numbers and more about the arithmetic of choices, anxiety, and ambition. Archie Mehta (Ahsaas Channa) is our wide-eyed protagonist trying to balance studies, article-ship, and a personal life, while Niraj Goyal (Gyanendra Tripathi), seven years, countless attempts, and one stubborn syllabus later, personifies perseverance bordering on masochism.
The narrative balances humour with the bleakness of exam pressure, though it can be indulgent with its metaphors. The writers clearly enjoyed marrying accountancy language with life lessons. Sometimes it lands; sometimes the dialogue, “Sir, I’m not an employee, I am an article,” feels awkward, perhaps authentic jargon but odd to the ear. Yet for anyone who has battled exams, the show is oddly cathartic, a gentle nudge that even failures can be reconciled.
Actors’ performance
Ahsaas Channa shoulders much of the narrative with an unflinching sincerity. She imbues Archie with a restless energy, never slipping into caricature despite the clichés her role could have fallen into. Gyanendra Tripathi is excellent as Niraj. His exhaustion, suppressed rage, and occasional flashes of tenderness make him the most layered character in this ledger.
But the series’ profit column is strengthened by its supporting cast. Anmol Kajani as Vikas delivers light relief without being overbearing, Rohan Joshi adds easy camaraderie as Parth, while Prit Kamani and Aishwarya Ojha lend emotional ballast as Tejas and Kavya. Their presence ensures Half CA 2 doesn’t collapse into a two-hander of ambition versus despair. The chemistry feels lived-in, like a group of friends who’ve seen too many failed attempts to still laugh at them.
Music
The soundtrack is designed less for chartbusters and more for emotional nudges. “Sapne Wapne” plays like an anthem for dreamers, while “Teri hi baton mein mera jahan hai…” is an indulgent romantic refrain that gives the series breathing room amidst deadlines and panic attacks. Arabinda Neog’s background score is unobtrusive yet effective, swelling at the right moments without demanding attention.
Visually, the production keeps things understated. Goergy John’s cinematography captures Nashik and Mumbai’s middle-class textures with quiet dignity. There are no sweeping shots or dazzling set-pieces. This is a world of cramped homes, cluttered offices, and chai breaks that feel truer to life than any glossy fantasy. Tushar Manocha’s editing ensures a rhythm that doesn’t sag, even when the story occasionally does.
FPJ verdict
Despite heart, humour, and honesty, this series is not everyone’s cup of chai, or should we say, not everyone’s tax slab. For those who’ve lived the grind of professional exams, it will strike chords, perhaps even open old scars. For outsiders, it may occasionally feel like being stuck in someone else’s tuition class, punctuated by heartfelt life lessons.
Overall, if not inspiring, it is at least worth an entry in life’s ledger.
