The Cuckoo Capers by Bijal Vachharajani (part of the POFFS collection of funny stories) is a story told in less than eighty pages. I read it over three days and multiple sessions, and I wish I could say that every pause was to better savour the experience.

The hyphenated Mehta-Kamble family of Decent Apartments are going through an extended and torrid summer — 55 degrees outside! With those kind of temperatures you would die outside or inside, one would think. The heatwave is made even more intolerable because the environmentally conscientious and ​“socially responsible” family made up of two siblings, the parents and a granny, will not succumb to getting an air conditioner to fend off the heat and humidity. 

Extreme weather is the new normal, and countering it by refusing to keep oneself comfortable if one can afford to, feels futile in the face of policy inertia, not to mention a tad unbelievable. Instead, various members of the family switch fans on (why did they switch them off?) or keep cranking them to a ​“higher speed” whenever someone gets particularly testy. Matlab, if there was a greater speed to be had, why wasn’t the fan already on it? And also, their commitment to the environment seems questionable when the reader discovers not plentiful gourds and melons in their fridge, but kale and broccoli, free-range eggs and spoiled oat milk. Of course.

Anyway. This hipster family has mugged up the scientific name for every single plant, animal, and insect species they have ever laid their eyes on — like, kyun bhai? — and every now and then one or the other will peer out the window, binoculars pasted to their eyes, and upon sighting something will call out an unpronounceable name for our reading pleasure. The reason they keep their eyes in the sky is because they are hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive cuckoo, harbinger of rains, who does not seem to have arrived from South Africa on time. 

We are also told in a passing fashion that this is a noisy family prone to loud bursts of laughter, louder arguments, much clattering of utensils ​“like there was a game of jenga being played with them”, and almost non-stop TV sounds. What an absolute nightmare for the neighbours one would think, but no, apparently most of them do not mind, and the one family that do are so traumatised they leave the city forever. All of this is made to sound cute, by the way. 

The dad is a TV script writer but all he seems to do is bake for the family (palm-oil free it goes without saying, but with hazelnuts — extra points for extra dark carbon footprint), the mom is a doctor who never goes to work, and the nani is a vague somebody who every now and then wants to go off to Nagpur. The boy, Subhir, and the girl, Kiana, are 11 and 9 respectively, and are on the last week of their summer vacation. ​“Together they were the perfect go-to-people for when you wanted an A+ on your project about the natural world…” I paused for the first time on page 9. 

Over the course of the next few chapters, the Five Findouters (sorry, Enid) end up tromping all over their backyard forest called ​‘Beauty Van’ that is often mistaken for a car dealership, to look for the elusive cuckoo. Not sure about the logic here. How will merely spotting the bird ensure rain? But ​“once the sun goes down for a bit” (and the temperature settles at a balmy 50, presumably), ​“we’re going for a walk,” Kiana announces. In the forest the adults are spurred into action and start taking copious notes. ​“So it begins!” the mom declares ominously, and you’re only on page 29. 

It is not clear what the walk unlocks for the adults. All you know is that they start acting strange; they have meetings with each other, and step out to go to the shops. But whatever it is that they are buying, it is not food. The kids scramble to put food on their plates while the adults seem to feel no hunger at all. Please understand that this is all supposed to be funny, not scary. A list is made. It’s called The Cuckoo’s Calling (I badly want to quote all the bullet points here, but have to respect the word limit of the review). We are only on page 32.

The father makes fondant frogs, male and female, so that they can marry them off and make rain happen; they go to the forest and sing to call the rains; they parade around the house with a rain stick. The author casually drops lines about dissent, freedom of speech and cultural appropriation into the mouths of her characters and by now you have gnashed your teeth to stubs. Only page 47, people. 

And so it goes on. And on. And on. Finally, a Lagaan-style rain dance happens in the building’s front yard. But does it rain, and does the cuckoo make it from South Africa, and most importantly, does the madness end? This dear reader, I will leave for you to find out. 

About the reviewer:

Revathi Suresh is a Chennai-based writer. She is the author of two young adult novels, Jobless Clueless Reckless (Duckbill, 2013) and In Now and Then (1Inch Margin, 2021).