In a culturescape where technicolor dreams had been painted a garish shade of peroxide, and blazing diamonds outshine sparkling minds, there are definite winds of change. The small screen has emerged from a phase of cloning Star Plus, and trite, safe themes to become the rebel medium. Cushioned between the hollow din of morning shows and ‘late night’ inanities are meaningful teleplays that are taking on societal prejudices, taboos, and sanctions with an admirably quiet confidence. The Pakistani drama is once again coming of age in more ways than one. And is poised to leave its own halcyon days behind.
The general view that Sarmad Khoosat’s Humsafar marked the rebirth of our teleplay is in fact a fallacy at best. It certainly captured our collective imagination and sentiment to achieve a cult status across borders — with Fawad Khan setting many hearts aflutter as the new chocolate hero a la Waheed Murad — but its story was timidly conventional when compared to a line up of bold storylines and characterisations televised both before and after it took centre stage. Undeniably, the super hit serial’s appeal lay in how ‘real’ it was, replete with beautiful, strong characters, a taut screenplay, biting script and above all, sizzling chemistry. But when juxtaposed with Mere Qaatil, Mere dildar — another story of love gone sour, a weak male model, flawed family values and structures and a victimised female protagonist — Humsafar’s end appears to be its undoing. It clearly succumbed to the audience’s penchant for happily ever afters, whereas Mere Qaatil Mere Dildar held on to real life — it ended with a sense of closure, and an acceptance of regret, failure, revenge, betrayal as irreversible truths, as opposed to a fairytale of plastic forgiveness.
Cut to the present. It takes a serious tele-visionary to come up with a Qudoosi sahib ki bewa. Starring the formidable Hina Dilpazeer in a double role — an ageing, unmarried daughter and a cantankerous, old mother — it is a riveting serial that sparkles with old world, UP wit, immaculate characterisation, staggering performances and settings. However, its beauty lies in the way it carries an underlying theme of certain taboos such as a closet transvestite of a son in a family that handles him with wry wit and nonchalance.
Meanwhile, his mother, who swims in and out of denial, is determined to marry him off for the sake of the family name. On her matchmaking spree, she often ends up ridiculing the girl’s side in a bid to preempt a dig at her son — “Aap Agra ki howay hain aur aap kay mian Bareili kay. Ajab ittefaq hai. Agra ka bhi paagal khaana mashhoor hai aur Bareili ka bhi.” She also makes no bones about the fact that she intends to live off her daughters’ earnings. Hence, it is an all out, rare matriarchal delight.
However, where on one front wit and grit override aspects that can easily slip into tragedy, on another there are tales of feudal brutalities such as Dil toh behkay ga. Filmstar Resham once again floors her audience with a controlled, poignant portrayal of the ‘bari bahu’ of a Sindhi feudal family. She, following a moment of weakness, gives birth to a haari’s child, which results in macho mayhem, bloodshed and death warrants. Similarly, in Kaash mein teri beti na hoti, another feudal set up indulges in womb rental following a significant fee and a mock nikah.
Interestingly, like all societal dynamics, religion is also gently depicted as subservient to human survival. For example, after Meri zaat zarra-e-benishaan, it was in the recently concluded Kaafir, where the hero takes a false oath on the holy book — an everyday, albeit taboo, act of survival for myriads of entangled lives.
Perhaps it is time to view television as a barometer of not just social freedom but of social tolerance. Our signature Pakistani teledrama has returned to confront many evils — from stemming the rise of mediocrity to reinforcing cultural diversity and individual belief systems and choices. It is the sole cultural force that is bringing this nation close to losing its demons and contradictions. All said and done, our television screens are without a doubt the new Lollywood armed with the power and vigour to put any Bollywood gloss in the shade. A new socialisation is entering homes and permeating all strata to redesign a decaying society. And reinvent the concept of celebrity.
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