Financial damage vs psychological damage).

The few nice touches – like the male Mishras’ concerns for Shanti morphing into casual patriarchy – are undone by the preachy tone.

Another revolves around the decluttering of the house (the scrap dealer who watches the family bicker is played by Amarjeet Singh, the iconic plumber from another show) so that the voice-over can ruminate on middle-class belongings and memories.

At other points, the piggy-bank breaks character to use Hinglish terms like adulting and parenting, closing out an episode with an engineer-who-reads-philosophy line like “Middle-class people are their own trauma and therapy”.

Basically, the voice-over has such a quarter-bar-wisdom, seen-it-all vibe that it’s hard to watch a scene on your own terms.

While the voice-over’s repetitive use of the term ‘middle-class’ could make for a great drinking game, it disrupts the viewer’s agency.

The broader arc of the show features the very forced conflict of Aman, the cub in the family, growing up.

I like that it’s nothing too overt: He crushes on a girl, writes a love letter, finds an erotic novel, steals money, talks back to his brother and teases his father.

He is chastised repeatedly until things reach a breaking point in the finale.

But the ‘emotions’ and family spats don’t land because you can tell the show is reaching for drama.

It is trying to hold a conversation in the land of small talk.

Ditto for Anu’s track with his toxic boss – their face-offs unfold like budget scenes, existing solely to show that Anu is developing a moral spine.

Ditto for the parents who, despite the fine cast, succumb to odourless writing.

It’s hard to understand why they’re so upset with Aman, even if their hypocrisies make sense on paper.

The bigger issue with these petty conflicts is that it seems to be hiding the actual tensions of ‘living like the Mishras’.

There are quips about Santosh drinking every night, but it is of course a cute sly joke in the TVF-verse.

There are quips about Shanti being the neglected hero of a house where the males (and the show itself) trivialize her moods, but her scowls are staged as fun and games.

There are hints of the Mishras being conservative right-wingers – it’s nice to see a series about a family like this for a change – but it refuses to label their leanings.

Instead, you get a “simple pleasures” environment where the harmless PG-13 mornings edge out the dark R-rated nights.

At some level, you have to wonder if the series excludes more than it includes.

You have to wonder if the whole commoners-minding-their-own-business angle – the general stillness – is a front.

I did enjoy the first few seasons, but I also forgot about it hours after exiting its world.

I get that perhaps the intent is to be sweet and forgettable, like days themselves, but tell that to my roving mind.

I also don’t understand the nostalgic treatment.

The series is based around 2015, so it’s not even that far back.

Maybe it speaks to the innate human tendency to live in the past to conceal the cracks of the present.

Either way, the novelty has run its course.

The traffic jam is over.

The air taxi is moving again.

Back to the AI-generated romcom.