Directed by Aatish Kapadia and produced by JD Majethia, Chumbak comes from the creative lineage of Sarabhai vs Sarabhai and Khichdi, so comparisons are inevitable. It has the same fondness for eccentric neighbours, verbal sparring and family chaos.
The first episode doesn’t inspire enthusiasm. It feels loud and overplayed. Yet Chumbak gradually finds its feet. Give it a few episodes and the characters settle, the ensemble starts bouncing off one another, and the show develops warmth. It remains old-fashioned, but eventually that starts feeling less like a flaw and more like the point.
The premise is simple. Five families live cheek-by-jowl in Chembur’s Chumbak Colony, where nobody’s business stays private for long. A missing person becomes a neighbourhood search, a marital disagreement becomes a colony debate, an affair becomes community intelligence and a child’s school trouble becomes everybody’s concern. They gossip and interfere, but when somebody needs help, they turn up. One family’s problem becomes everyone’s problem. That remains the show’s most dependable comic engine.
At the emotional centre are Rajni and Kuku Merchant, played by Neena Gupta and Deven Bhojani. Kuku is a retired pilot living with dementia, while Rajni has spent years becoming his caregiver. When she considers divorce, the situation becomes more complicated. She has not stopped loving him; she is simply exhausted by the life she has been living.
It is the richest idea in Chumbak: can you stop being someone’s caregiver without stopping loving them? Gupta gives Rajni a mixture of affection, irritation, guilt and weariness. Bhojani is equally good, particularly when Kuku’s forgetfulness stops being a gag and becomes quietly heartbreaking. They do not naturally gel as a couple, but both are such assured actors that they manage to hold the relationship together.
Manasi Parekh and Sumeet Vyas provide the sitcom marriage. Priyanka Khanna is the colony’s human loudspeaker, while Adi is her deadpan, perpetually exhausted opposite. Parekh embraces the volume; Vyas wisely underplays it. In fact, Vyas emerges as perhaps the most sorted actor here, because he knows exactly how much comedy a reaction can generate without announcing the joke.
The Taraporewalas bring another flavour. Anant Joshi’s Freddy is a loyal home chef and caterer, Amyra Dastur’s Hutoxi is an aspiring writer documenting the colony in The Chumbak Chapters, and Delnaaz Irani’s Gulshan supplies the mother-in-law firepower. Their Parsi household is chaotic, and Hutoxi’s writing gives the series a loose narrative frame.
Then there is Sumeet Raghavan as Dharmendra Kejriwal, whose unusual profession involves performing in elaborate women’s costumes. Raghavan is clearly having a hoot with the drag-queen angle, and his energy is infectious. Some of the risque jokes around it are also a departure from what one normally associates with Kapadia and Majethia. They are not always sophisticated, but the cheekier side is refreshing. Sandeepa Dhar plays Kiran Kejriwal, the hugely supportive wife who understands that her husband’s drag act is just professionally motivated.
The problem is that the show occasionally mistakes familiarity for relevance. Its broad acting, recurring gags and domestic misunderstandings deliberately belong to the old-school sitcom. That can be charming, but it can also make Chumbak feel like a 2000s television show that has wandered onto a 2026 OTT schedule.
More troubling is the treatment of infidelity. The idea that a group of men can support their friend’s cheating, or treat it as something to be managed rather than questioned, does not feel particularly progressive in 2026. The show does not interrogate the attitude enough to make it feel knowingly dated. This is where nostalgia stops being harmless and begins to look like creative inertia.
The ensemble remains the biggest reason to stay. Sandeepa Dhar, Arjun Bijlani, Helly Shah and the rest of the cast add to the colony’s busy ecosystem, while the central actors ensure that the emotional material never disappears beneath the noise. Kapadia understands that sitcoms work best when characters genuinely care about one another.
The series has sixteen episodes but only eight have been shown so far. Each episode runs roughly 23 to 29 minutes. Chumbak asks for a substantial investment in a format that would have benefited from sharper editing. The Rajni-Kuku story has enough emotional weight for a tighter season, while several colony detours feel like padding rather than essential comic development. A shorter run might have made the jokes land harder.
Chumbak is neither the triumphant return of Sarabhai vs Sarabhai-style comedy nor a complete misfire. It is a warm, occasionally funny and often well-acted throwback that takes time to find its rhythm. Its heart is in the right place, particularly when it explores ageing, caregiving, marriage and neighbourhood life. But its nostalgia can become a crutch, its humour can feel dated, and its length works against it. Chumbak eventually finds its feet. You just wish it had been allowed to stop walking a little sooner. The series is currently streaming on Netflix.
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