Ever since Zindagi Zee started its telecast in June last year, it was nostalgia for the ‘mummy-maasi’ generation, which devoured Pakistani serials like Dhoop Kinarey and Tanhaaiyan back in the VHS era. And it was a ‘OMG! Pakistani actors and actresses are so cute!’ realisation for the younger generation. The channel also made space for itself amongst the ‘elite’ audience, which traditionally isn’t the target group for Indian GEC channels.
There have been constant comparisons since - are Indian soaps better or Pakistani? And one of the favourite discussion points is are women portrayed better on the small screen here or across the border?
Fact is that TV shows in both countries primarily revolve around the woman - presented as an abla naari here and the mazloom aurat there. The shaadi or nikaah of the heroine is always the most important plot line. Shaadi invariably also means sasuraal, which brings in lots of spicy kitchen politics to melodramatically tear the heroine and the hero apart. Even though the concept of a husband being the parmeshwar or majazi khuda is on the wane, he is still the MOST important person.
Writers in Pakistan have the added advantage of getting to use the talaaq, talaaq, talaaq twist in their screenplays. So very often the ever popular love triangle angle results in a legitimate marriage, changing the dynamics of the family politics.
Yet, content wise, in this limited ‘shaadi sasuraal’ paradigm too Pakistani serials seamlessly bring in issues of domestic violence, a woman’s search for her own identity, equal partnership between husband and wife, trials and joys of being a step child or parent, challenges of the feudal mind-set, physical disabilities and other pertinent issues.
The reason for this is not that the Indian television industry lacks good writers. I would even audaciously claim that the ‘factory writing’ and racking of brains for the convoluted twists and turns requires an excruciating amount of effort. The reason is the obsession with TRPs, which is directly dependant on the taste of the audience. And with no judgement, I would say the Indian audience loves the Over The Top drama packaged with generous dollops of glamour.
So even if we show the issue of ‘child marriage’, we end up talking about how cute Anandi is and how mean her grandma-in-law is, and not about the abhorrent practice of child marriage, sanitised as it is by glossy production values. Compare it with the spine chilling show in Pakistan called Rehaai (on Zindagi it will be aired as Pinjra) on the very same issue. The realistic, tell-it-as-it-is approach of the latter makes it a very tough watch.
We also love the familiarity of our never-ending soap operas as a habit and daily ritual. But in Pakistan, TV shows with their limited episodes can easily show the path that the female protagonist takes. Be it by teaching her sasuraal/ husband/ society to respect her or by calmly walking out of the marriage and seeking a new life for herself. While the Indian heroine fights endless battles for the same with her tears or the ever dependable sindoor + mangalsutra + karwa chauth combo, stretching on the story infinitely.
Yet, the most popular show in Pakistan in recent times was a show called Humsafar, in which the heroine can barely protest with quivering lips when her husband (a typical mamma’s boy) throws her out for allegedly cheating on him. Copious tears are shed till he realises that she is of ‘good virtue’ and all the misunderstanding was just his mother’s evil plan. All is well that ends well, once he brings her back home. So whether in India or Pakistan, the mazloom / ablaa aurat loses to reason, logic and patriarchy but stories about her always win!
(The contributor is a story, screenplay and dialogue writer for television)
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