Thode Door Thode Paas review: A sweet, simple slice-of-life show that compels you to rethink your relationship with technology!

A heartfelt series, Thode Door Thode Paas uses the idea of going back in time only to remind us of how we’ve lost touch with the very things that once made us feel alive!

Every few days there’s a piece about how technology is slowly taking over our lives. And every single one ends on the same note, concluding that accessibility has made us all dependent. When everything is just a click away, effort becomes optional. After all, who would bother picking up a pen and paper to make a list when you can type a note or ask AI to remind you? But it was never the paper that made us remember better; it was the act of scribbling, thinking, and doing that kept us human, something that Thode Door Thode Paas is here to remind us!It isn’t here to glorify the past, saying that life was better then but that there’s something worth rediscovering from that time like a sense of connection. 

At the centre of this story is the Mehta family - a household that could be any of ours. Kunal (Kunaal Roy Kapur) is a numerologist constantly buried in his digital charts and virtual meetings. His wife Simran (Mona Singh) runs a boutique out of their garage, sourcing her design inspirations from the internet. Their daughter Avni (Ayesha Kaduskar) is a young coding prodigy developing her own app and find funds for her startup, and their son Vivaaan (Sartaaj Kakkar), an ADHD-diagnosed gamer, lives for his console and reacts violently if anyone crosses him. Even next door, Kunal’s younger brother Kumud, a casanova by heart, lives his life as a content creator, drifting through life, constantly recording instead of living. Together, they’re a family run on WiFi and battery bars instead of blood and breath. And then Captain Ashwin Mehta (Pankaj Kapur), the patriarch of the family, re-enters their lives. A retired man with an old-school heart, he can’t stand watching his children and grandchildren living through screens. His solution is a challenge that sounds almost absurd in 2025! Six months of digital fasting with no phones, laptops, iPads, nothing except a landline, which he personally reinstalls. And if they can make it through, there’s a ₹1 crore reward for each family member at the end of it.

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It’s a simple premise that becomes a surprisingly layered experiment in modern living. The initial panic and struggle in the house feels relatable, after all, what would we do if one day Google or ChatGPT simply disappeared? How would we find our way, check our facts, or even remember our ATM PINs now that UPI is there? What the show does well is using these everyday absurdities or inherent fears to expose how dependent we’ve become on convenience. When Simran struggles to design without Pinterest, or when Avni has to build a data-based project or Kunal has to calculate without a computer, or when the family realizes they’ve forgotten how to buy things without being online, it’s funny because it's so painfully close to reality. The smallest inconveniences start to become revelations and slowly, the Mehtas begin to rediscover what effort feels like - washing dishes or clothes, cooking together, chequing out cash, physically paying bills, or doing anything and everything without technology. Hence, tasks that once felt like tick boxes on ‘reminders’, turn into small acts of connection. And the romantic lens with which the show treats this is endearing. An accidental candlelight dinner on the terrace when the lights go out, the smell of cash in their hands, the act of talking to people face to face and the rhythm of laughter filling a room that had forgotten conversation. Even the show’s humour stems from this as the bad puns cracked by everyone become the kind of relatable comedy that feels just like home. 

This is what stands out most about the show - its sweet, simple, funny, and unhurried tone. It isn’t trying too hard or pretending to be a well-scripted, know-it-all voice that's here to teach you something. It resists the temptation to turn into a loud sermon on “digital detox” that mocks modern progress or glorifies the past. Instead, it becomes a quiet celebration of slowness, a reminder that the air and sunlight are still waiting for you to open a window and let them in, maybe to cure the darkness of denial that we’ve gotten so used to or that sometimes a simple cycle ride in the open air is enough to calm the storm within. Its romanticism lies in the act of catching your breath, making space for yourself, remembering the art of creating memories to remember not just to capture. 

Yes, the show is a bit caricaturish at times, becoming overly sweet with its shayari and idealism and there are a few cracks in the story, with traumas and problems wrapping up a little too neatly and some questions left unanswered. Its nostalgia for the 70s occasionally flirts with over-sentimentality, especially visible in Captain’s remembrance of his dead wife. Yet, there’s something undeniably moving about its optimism, just like in Avni’s budding love life. And like Pankaj Kapur, who despite a dependable cast, once again makes even the most unbelievable moments feel believable, this five-episode slice-of-life series, created by Shirshaak S. Anand and Ajay Bhuyan, ultimately succeeds in driving home its point - technology was never the villain in our story, but forgetting ourselves in the process of using it might be. It understands that we’re all just trying to keep up in a world that runs on speed. But it also dares to ask - when was the last time you stopped to breathe without being reminded by an app? In a time when silences in human relationships are replaced by notifications, Thode Door Thode Pass feels like a cute but necessary reflection! 

Thode Door Thode Pass is currently streaming on Zee5!