During the lockdown in Abu Dhabi, I started watching TV with my family in the evenings. Often, we would have a Pakistani serial on, with episodes of different dramas playing back to back from 8 p.m. to 10 p.m. From extramarital love affairs and covert second marriages to excessive male angst and unnecessarily accentuated English accents, the content of these serials is extremely entertaining, if absurd. However, this led me to question if the millions of people who watch this content every day also find it absurd, or if they instead find something in them with which they resonate?

It’s no surprise that Pakistani dramas, which are usually 20-30 episode long series broadcasted weekly or daily, have problematic content. Their stories are often focused around a woman, who at some point or another, either faces or causes a tragedy. Moving beyond the immediate issues present in these dramas which include colorism, sexism and moral shaming, one finds even more troubling content than what meets the eye. Most of this content has to do with the problematic treatment of female characters, and if millions of people are watching it repeatedly, what does this say about us as a society which already mistreats women?

One of the most alarming themes in the majority of these dramas is how women are either portrayed either as pure, innocent and meek, or as extremely cold-hearted, selfish and villainous. For instance, in dramas such as Mera Dil Mera Dushman (My Heart, My Enemy), Tarap (Anguish), Jalan (Jealousy) and Nand (Sister-in-law), all the protagonists are light-skinned, petite women who are willing to silently face any tragedy and wrongdoing, often at the expense of their own wellbeing.

In both Mera Dil Mera Dushman and Nand, the female leads are young, newly married women terrorized by their sisters in law’s constant schemes, verbal abuse and general disrespect. Still, both women bear this in silence and patience. In Tarap, the female protagonist is wrongly accused of having an affair with her boss at work, and as a result, her own grandmother brings her a cup of milk with poison in it, while her brother constantly threatens to bury her alive, due to the shame associated with such an accusation. Instead of trying to clear her name or fight for herself, she resigns in silence and guilt over a crime she did not even commit.

The trope of a beautiful, young and helpless woman as a victim of tragic circumstances is ubiquitous across these dramas. Her virtue lies in accepting her awful circumstances and waiting for some sort of divine intervention (or a man) to save her. However, exceptions to this general trend of weak female protagonists are seen in Sabaat (Stability) and Ghisi Piti Mohabbat (Yet Another Love Story), where the women are shown to be confident and assertive, working to support their families, facing hardships with a strong stance and unwavering in their decisions.

Furthermore, double standards are no surprise in these dramas. Men who frequently cheat on their wives are often still presented in a positive light (seen in Ghisi Piti Mohabbat, Zebaish, Qurbatain). Yet, when women display the same behavior, they are framed as having committed a great moral sin worthy of punishment and ridicule. For instance, in Dil Ruba (Temptress), the lead, Sanam, is a lively young girl who likes flirting with men and acquiring gifts and attention as a result of their affections. However, the story takes a dark turn when the man she marries finds out about her past and subsequently dies in a car accident induced by the “trauma” of having a wife who was associated with other men. She is then forced into a second marriage, and is constantly reminded of her harmless love affairs by society and family alike, until her once lively spirit is broken and she repents for her “sins.”

In Jhooti (Liar), a man deceives a woman into marrying him to exploit her higher financial status. Greedy to acquire more money, the couple then collaborates to betray and cheat the girl’s family members out of their property. In the end, the man runs away with all the money while the woman is abandoned by her family, sitting alone in a poorly kept mental asylum. Once again, the man is exempt from any moral condemnation or societal punishment, while the woman suffers for both her crimes and his. This is only one of countless instances of such double standards where women are punished more severely than men for the same actions, by family and society alike.

These general trends in Pakistani dramas propagate dangerous stereotypes about women to a large audience. The tragedy lies in the fact that this audience feeds on these themes, where women are mistreated for shock value and entertainment, where love and marriage are twisted into a game, where morality is equated only to what society allows and wants and where the punishment for female expressions of self-love and self-care is loss, sadness and, in some instances, death. There is hardly any content with a good moral message, inspiring characters or a satisfactory conclusion, as most of these narratives are rejected due to generally lower viewership. Examples of such dramas are Bikhrey Moti (Scattered Diamonds), which deals with the issue of child abuse, and Saraab (Mirage), which explores the story of a schizophrenic woman.

The conundrum the industry faces is this: how can dramas with inspiring characters and a good story be shown to an audience that — for the most part — isn’t interested in them? Exceptions to this rule exist, and they often lie with the actors cast into these shows. If they are popular, then the masses will be ready to tune in to dramas covering important themes like sexual assault and abuse, classism, justice, mental illness and so on. A good example of such a drama is Udaari (Flight), which aired in 2016. Anchored by an ensemble cast, it became widely popular and praised, although many still condemned it for what they considered “inappropriate” content. Similarly, a recent series called Churails (Witches) also touched on important themes such as the rights of women, inequalities in society and female agency. However, it too was criticized for being too explicit and was banned in Pakistan.

Television is meant for entertainment, but when you’re living in a society which already disrespects, limits and constrains its women, the repeated airing of problematic TV shows can only serve to perpetuate and validate such behavior. Instances of women being slapped and cheated on by their husbands, abused by their in-laws and abandoned by their families are unfortunately already too common in real life. So why produce content that only exploits these issues for monetary gain instead of providing a solution or a good moral end to the story?

The Pakistani TV industry definitely can and should do better in terms of its content creation and portrayal of women. But, for now, it seems that no one wants to escape this cycle of cheap entertainment that only helps to pass the time.