After the team’s last match, photos of Iran’s Ramin Rezaeian looking devastated while holding the Superior Player of the Match trophy began to trend online, haunting fans, as did a video of him speaking to the media after.

Heartbreak was the dominant emotion online and who can blame them?

Many decried serious issues like lack of accessibility for teams, referees and fans, calling this the most racist World Cup ever.

There was a lot of talk about the problems Iran faced, like not being allowed to stay overnight in the US and having to travel to and from Mexico for games.

Others took issue with Iranian players being asked about things not related to football at all and wondered why the press wasn’t asking players accused of rape of their thoughts on that.

But despite it all, the Iranian team won hearts and people’s respect

Amidst all the heartbreak, there was some humour though. It is X after all.

What are your thoughts on Iran’s elimination from the tournament? Let us know in the comments.

So, in honour of FIFA fever, we’ve created a list of some of the stars the internet is keeping its eyes on during games.

Zidane Iqbal — Iraq

International heartthrob Zidane Iqbal is more than just a part of the Iraqi wonder-team that took the country into the World Cup after 44 years, he’s also the only Pakistani on the pitch.

We know you’re confused, let us explain. Iqbal was born in England to a Pakistani dad and an Iraqi mum. He is eligible to play for any of the three countries and chose to play for Iraq — we love him anyway, he’s one of us.

Erling Haaland — Norway

Six foot five and built like a Viking, Erling Haaland may only be described on the pitch as “a force to be reckoned with”.

Clips of the Norwegian giant chasing down an Iraqi player on the pitch went viral, with the fear in his opponent’s eyes clearly visible.

The Man City striker scored two goals in that game, taking his tally to four and putting him in second place for most goals scored in the tournament so far — right behind Messi.

Alireza Beiranvand — Iran

The most talked about team off the pitch also has the most talked about goalkeeper of the tournament.

Fans are convinced Alireza Beiranvand can block just about anything he puts his mind to, including the Strait of Hormuz if necessary.

He’s also part of a team that’s been doing rounds on social media looking just a little too good, but we’ll get you more on that another time.

Tim Payne — New Zealand

Okay, we’ll admit we haven’t seen any of the Kiwis’ football games, but Tim Payne has become an internet legend after getting a 10,000 per cent boost in his Instagram followers over three weeks.

Payne used to be the “tournament’s least followed player” with 5,000 followers. He now has 5,000,000.

Still, he told FIFA he hadn’t changed from the viral fame and that he was still a “hard-working Kiwi trying to represent our country on the world stage”.

What players are you watching this season? Leave your answers in the comments.

On Tuesday, police in Sargodha arrested four people after a seven-year-old girl was found dead after having gone to a neighbourhood shop. Police arrested four suspects in the case with the prime suspect later being killed during an attempted escape.

On Wednesday, a three-year-old in Karachi was found murdered outside her home. The police surgeon said it was “one of the most horrific” cases she had seen in her career.

The little girl had gone outside to play at noon and her parents began to search for her when she didn’t return around four and a half hours later. Her grandfather found her body stuffed into a bag and left outside their house.

In the aftermath, many of the country’s celebrities had the same questions: how many more innocent lives have to be lost before we ensure our kids are safe?

Adnan Siddiqui, asking God to have mercy on the country, said animals shield their young from harm out of a natural instinct; how then had we humans failed to do the same for our children? He called for predators who targeted children to be given “the harshest punishment allowed by law”.

Ushna Shah called out the lack of meaningful action in Pakistani society in response to such incidents. She said Pakistanis will “blame victims” and “be outraged online”, but will not take steps amend laws to “make punishments for assault more brutal” or even “hold boys accountable for their actions” early in life.

“We will never take women’s rights as human rights. We will continue to blame victims.”

Ayesha Omar struck a similar tone on the need for societal change while talking about the gruesome murder in Karachi.

“The environment all over Pakistan is barbaric. I’m shaken, so, so, so angry and feeling hopeless about this country,” she lamented. “and that’s what they want, for women to always be fearful and hopeless.”

She said the only way out was for the ment of this country to “speak up, step up [and] hold other men accountable”.

Aiman Khan called for “justice, accountability and a society where everyone feels safe”. She said all victims were somebody’s children and no family deserved to go through such trauma.

Iqra Aziz was distraught, saying nobody could say when this cruelty would stop because everyone knew it can be committed with impunity. She said we had convinced ourselves that we can’t send our kids outside our homes, but we couldn’t bring the predators we so feared to justice.

We can only hope that the outrage over these horrific incidents leads to meaningful change in the way we protect our children but as many stars noted, the monsters who abuse these children are not always punished.

The Korean-Canadian rapper was seen wearing a t-shirt with the Confederate flag at a fan event, with his newly founded label Upper Room posting pictures and taking them down soon after.

The flag, which was used by the Confederate States of America during the US Civil War, has come to represent white supremacist ideals and the economic justification of slavery.

Users on X — fans and ops alike — knew this was something he’d have a hard time walking away from.

Seeing the backlash, Upper Room issued an apology on Tuesday. In an Instagram story, it said, “We would like to extend our sincere apologies for the concern, discomfort, and disappointment caused by the vintage T-shirt that appeared in a recently shared photograph.

“The garment was selected solely as a vintage wardrobe item,” it continued. “However, upon recognising the historical significance and sensitivity associated with the symbol displayed on the T-shirt, we took measures to ensure that it would not be visible in any official content. Despite these efforts, the image was subsequently shared externally.

“We take full responsibility for this oversight,” the label said. “Upper Room and the artist unequivocally reject and do not tolerate racism, hate, discrimination, or any form of intolerance. We are also grateful to those who brought this matter to our attention. In response, we will strengthen our internal review procedures for wardrobe selection and content approval to help prevent similar incidents from occurring in the future.”

People did not buy it, saying Lee grew up in North America and should have known better.

A user called it “laughable” how the moment Lee gained control over his public image, he pulled this stunt, after remaining generally unproblematic during his time with NCT.

Another said Koreans were sensitive when it came to their own history and expected other people to respect it — as evidenced by the backlash received by Starbucks recently. They said it was wrong of Lee not to afford the same courtesy to other cultures.

Users asked fans not to defend his actions and one even wondered if he had taken inspiration from Nicki Minaj — who has, in recent times, become an ardent supporter of President Donald Trump.

Lee has not addressed the controversy personally, even though some fans are demanding an apology. Upper Room’s statement can be said to be his — he founded the company earlier this month — but many have said that may not be enough in this case.

The name is a reference to a Biblical description of the land that is now Palestine and the ice cream is made with ingredients from Israeli settlements. Apart from the milk and the honey, tubs will also have chocolate chips in the shape of the star of David.

Needless to say, the internet was not on board with Israel co-opting the ice cream brand and users on X were quick to call out how the original founders of Ben & Jerry’s would hate what is going on.

Netizens weren’t surprised that a country built on land stolen from native communities would also steal a beloved ice cream brand’s identity.

Some people tried to guess at what the new flavour might taste like.

Others guessed at what flavours could be coming next.

Many just felt the whole exercise was sad — and maybe even a little pathetic.

Ben Cohen — the Ben of the original Ben & Jerry’s — is a fierce and outspoken critic of Israel and even made a special watermelon-flavoured sorbet in honour of Palestine in November. He was also arrested at the US Senate last month for protesting US complicity in the “slaughter” of Palestinians.

Jerry Greenfield — the other half of the name — resigned from the company in September after saying it had lost its independence when it came to social activism. The two had tried to ban the sales of their ice cream in illegal Israeli settlements in 2022, a move blocked by parent company Unilever.

Meanwhile, netizens of Pakistan — the mediator between the two parties and the third signatory of the MoU — known for their excellent meme game and self-deprecating humour, took to X to poke fun at the bureaucracy and red-tapism that tend to slow down even the smallest of tasks.

Others said these weren’t enough and the advice might be a little dated.

One user, noting that the requirements hadn’t been met by end of day, said the agreement would have to wait till the next day.

The much-awaited MoU is just the first step in the negotiating process; the US and Iran will now spend the next 60 days trying to hammer out a treaty to definitively end the conflict.

The agreement faces some jeopardy from Israeli military actions in Lebanon, which continue despite Iranian stakeholders explicitly declaring fighting had to stop.

Iran and the US have not exchanged fire yet and the Strait of Hormuz has opened to traffic, sending oil prices down.

Quoting a post about Islamabad Chief Traffic Officer Kainat Azhar Khan, he questioned why women were opting to join the police. Chaudhry added that “Most of them are completely useless as cops, also it’s terrible career choice even otherwise.”

The reaction was understandably intense, with journalist Hamid Mir telling Chaudhry this was “male chauvinism” and that he had seen the “same kind of Pakistani men bowing down in front of female diplomats”.

Chaudhry countered, saying he meant competent women should become scientists or entrepreneurs “instead of wasting talent for lust of power” as in his opinion, “cops don’t need to be very capable”.

But evidently most people did not see it that way. Many netizens asked why half of Pakistan’s population should stay away from an important profession.

Others said the minister had disrespected CTO Khan, who was doing her job like any other civil servant.

One user asked Chaudhry if he had any research to back his claim of women not being effective police officers.

Another wondered aloud what a world without women in the police force would look like and how terrible it would be for women as a whole.

Some netizens challenged the minister’s question with another question: why did he become a politician?

Whether it be Khan, Shehrbano Naqvi or Amna Baig, Pakistan’s women have made strides in policing as they have everywhere else. In such times, it’s understandable people aren’t happy with someone trying to put down hard-working women over the internet.

In his speech, the minister said the government would be withdrawing taxes placed on contraceptives and sanitary pads. The move was hailed as a win for women and an important step in providing safe and affordable menstrual care to the public.

Netizens applauded the government for taking the step which will have an immediate, positive impact for the country’s women.

One user pointed out how Pakistan was set to join a lamentably small group of countries that don’t tax menstrual hygiene products.

Others felt the whole idea of taxing such essential goods was “ridiculous”. They were happy to see the taxes go.

There was also acknowledgement of Mahnoor Omer, the women’s rights activist who filed a case in the Lahore High Court against taxing menstrual hygiene product in September. She was later recognised as one of TIME magazine’s Women of the Year for her efforts. Another petition was filed in the Sindh High Court by Karachi’s Alishba Shabbir in November.

Not everyone was convinced this was enough, especially when it came to the adoption of contraceptives in a country severely burdened by overpopulation. One user said the withdrawal of taxes wouldn’t do make to increase their acceptance in Pakistani society.

The removal of the taxes is expected to be implemented in the coming fiscal year, which starts from July 1.

Gwyneth Paltrow, the Academy Award-winning actor and businesswoman, falls into the third category, especially after her ad promoting an Israeli real estate project went viral this week. Yes, right in the middle of a genocide that has killed over 70,000 people.

Netizens, many of whom have understandably strong feelings when it comes to profiting from progress built on the blood and tears of an oppressed people, were not happy.

Those were just the nicer ones — other users on X were far more brutal in their rebukes of the actor.

People couldn’t decide what was worse, that she did this at all or that she did it even though she really didn’t have to.

One user, pointing out Paltrow’s abject refusal to pick a side politically, said this wasn’t really a surprise.

Celebrities were equally enraged. In the comment section of a post talking about the incident, Mahira Khan found the whole thing “sick”while Fatima Bhutto was quick to point out how “genocide sells”.

Iraqi-American beauty mogul Huda Kattan said Paltrow knew “exactly what is happening there”. She called the video “disgusting”.

When so many of their colleagues are willing to call a spade a spade and a genocide a genocide, it really is astounding how so many influential people have no issue working with complicit entities and how many more are willing to pretend none of it is happening.

The Shaheens faced off against neighbouring Afghanistan in the final of the Diamond Jubilee International Football Tournament in Malé, where they outclassed their opponents 2-0 to emerge undefeated from the tournament.

Naturally, the nation joined its boys in celebrating, starting with senior government figures. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, Minister of Information and Broadcasting Attaullah Tarar and Sindh Energy Minister Nasir Hussain Shah sent love to the team on X.

Netizens followed, some surprised, others hopeful, most just happy to see Pakistan get some good news.

The fact that the boys in green didn’t concede a single goal, not just in the game but the whole tournament, was not taken lightly.

There were cheers for the whole team, but one player stood out in the game. Shayak Dost — the Man of the Match — scored a beautiful bicycle kick in the 24th minute to give Pakistan its first goal of the night.

Head coach Nolberto Solano also received some of the spotlight for bringing Pakistani football to a point where people have hope.

Football, like most sports that aren’t cricket, suffers from a lack of facilities and state support in Pakistan. Users hoped this win would help change that.

After all, Pakistan too deserves to feel the full magic of the beautiful game someday.

While the game has a fan following in Pakistan — especially in Karachi’s Lyari — football has never been a game Pakistanis have done well at internationally. Here’s to hoping we keep getting more wins like these moving forward!

The latest in this horrifying but unsurprising cycle of news is a man who threw acid on a female doctor, Dr Mahnoor Nasir, for saying no to him. Balochistan Health Minister Bakht Muhammad Kakar spoke to the media and shared that the man had been harassing Dr Nasir for months. He also expressed surprise that she had not reported the matter to hospital authorities nor her family.

But as women, we know it’s not surprising at all.

What makes women stay silent? Why don’t women always tell their families or the authorities when men harass, abuse, or blackmail them?

The answer is simple. It’s because both men in the family and men outside of the family exist within the same social structure that was founded on intentional or unintentional collusion between these men. It’s also because, more often than not, the men who commit violence against women are men within their families. So how do we understand family both as a perpetrator and protector in violence against women?

When a man blackmails a woman, a common threat is that he will report the details of her life to her family. This usually includes sending messages, photos and videos as evidence of a woman’s failure to abide by familial, social or patriarchal rules. And often, women do get blackmailed and continue getting blackmailed until they reach a breaking point or until the man loses interest.

What gives a man the confidence that a woman’s family will inflict similar violence — or worse — upon her than he would? What drives a woman to fear that confiding in her loved ones will bring harsher consequences than enduring violation at the hands of another man?

Men within the family and men outside of the family often work towards a similar patriarchal goal of maintaining control over a woman. This shared goal remains implicit, and men fail to see how they collude and cooperate with those who target their daughters and sisters. When women feel like they can’t confide in their families, it is in part due to this implicit collusion.

Women choose not to tell their families when they experience violence because they do a cost-benefit analysis. Often, the decision to tell their families has complex and high costs for women’s lives. Since women’s bodies and what other men do to women’s bodies are often tied to family reputation and stability, telling one’s family about harassment or abuse can lead to increased control over the woman herself, rather than meaningful protection from the man who threatens her.

It leads to more confinement, rather than protection. This shows up in things like: You can’t leave the house anymore because what if it happens again or what if he does something? Don’t go to college or university because everything is lost if honour is lost. Stop going to work because safety comes before money. You can’t be on social media because that’s inviting attention. It’s time to get you married to ward off the violence. We trust you but we don’t trust men or the world.

The perpetrator aims to violate a woman’s autonomy, and the families might end up stripping away whatever remains of it. Telling their families results in more restrictions on women’s access to education, their long-term prospects of financial autonomy, and their access to public spaces. Putting up with seemingly short-term violence for long-term gain appears more reasonable than telling the family and risking their future.

Unintentionally, the family ends up facilitating the perpetrator by controlling their own daughter. Women’s strategic silence then becomes a rational attempt to preserve freedom, opportunity, dignity, and financial autonomy.

Have you ever read the comments under posts that report violence? You might have read comments like, “why didn’t she leave the job if she was being harassed?” “iss ki bhi koi ghalti hogi hi (she must be at fault here too),” “kuch tau aisa hua hoga k mard aisa kernay per majboor hua (something must have happened to compel the man to do this),” “koi aisay hi tau nahi uth k kisi ko maar deta, (no one just gets up and kills someone) one-sided story,” “this is not justifiable lekin aurton ko bhi khayal kerna chahye (but women must be mindful too),” “aisay kapray pehnay gi tau aisa tau hoga (if she wears clothes like this, stuff like this will happen),” “mardon se relation banao gi tau aisa tau hoga (if you have relationships with men, this will happen).”

These comments redirect attention to women, to the victim, instead of holding the aggressor accountable. Often, these comments are made by men where they assure other men that it’s not their fault, that they only react to something that happens to them. This victim-blaming — scrutinising what a woman might have done, said, worn, or failed to do instead of focusing on what a man actually did — also discourages women from confiding in their families.

This focus on hypothetical mistakes by the victim rather than the perpetrator’s real actions creates a sense of anticipatory shame.

It also leads to anticipated skepticism, which includes having to face questions like why didn’t you tell us before, why didn’t you tell us right away or why did you talk to him at all. The family ends up surveilling a woman’s life and scrutinising her behaviour rather than the perpetrator’s. Women might intellectually understand that they’re not at fault but still feel embarrassed, uncertain, and afraid. This increased scrutiny and surveillance, even if it is to protect women, contributes to their decision to tell or not tell their families.

In this crisis of femicide, men often cite examples like those of Abdul Razzaq Khilji, who helped Dr Nasir. While his actions are undoubtedly commendable and deserving of recognition, the frequent emphasis on such examples can reinforce a “male saviour” narrative, where men are portrayed as rescuing women from dangers largely created by other men. While we can appreciate these exceptions, it is critical to address the underlying social conditions that make such interventions necessary. The discussion should shift from individual heroism to the need for systemic change and accountability.

We, as women, are often socialised into a relational understanding of our identity. In other words, we grow up learning about ourselves only as daughters, sisters, and future wives — not as girls and women. Our girlhood or womanhood exists only as we perform various roles. This means we think about ourselves in relation with others more than we think about ourselves. Men, however, are socialised into thinking of their roles as boys and men in the family and society.

This relational sense of identity compels women to think not “how will this affect me” but rather “how would this affect my family or those connected to me?” Women might choose to risk their own safety for the family’s stability and normalcy. We can think of this as socialised coercion, since women sure make these decisions, but often do so within the learned boundaries of their obligations to others.

Women face so much violence in so many forms every day, violence that often leaves no visible trace — trying to please everyone in our roles as sisters, daughters, mothers, wives, constantly looking over our shoulders in the workplace or in public, carefully curating our wardrobes and appearances so as not to invite too much attention or scrutiny, calculating our words in the workplace and in public so as not to say something that a man might misinterpret, shrinking in public under the male gaze, wondering if or when a man will decide to do something more than stare, and if a man does decide to do something more having to decide whether to report it or not, whether to tell our families or not, because kahan tak suno gay, kahan tak sunaaon, (how much can you listen to, how much can I tell you).

Dr Mahnoor Nasir has been shifted to a private hospital in Karachi for treatment and her attacker, later identified by police as Humayun Shah, an employee at the hospital, was kil­led in an encounter with law enforcers while attempting to flee on a bus.

News of her attack has rocked the nation, not only because of the ferocity of it, but because it is far from the first case of a woman being attacked with acid.

“A woman went to WORK today. To SAVE LIVES. And someone threw acid on her face. I can’t. I genuinely cannot,” wrote Mahira Khan in an impassioned Instagram story.

“Dr Mahnoor Nasir [was] attacked inside a hospital. INSIDE A HOSPITAL. This is barbaric. This is evil. I am shaking with rage. This woman deserved safety. Instead she was nearly burned alive by a man who thought he had the right to destroy her,” she wrote.

“It’s time for not just the women but the MEN to speak up. To be louder. To be angrier!!!”

Singer Hadiqa Kiani said what happened to Dr Mahnoor Nasir should shake us all. “It is heartbreaking, horrifying and absolutely unacceptable,” she wrote, highlighting that Dr Nasir’s is not an isolated case.

“For too long, our women have faced violence, acid attacks, harassment and even death simply for existing, working and living with dignity. This must not be treated as another tragic headline,” she wrote.

Kiani implored society to find the courage to protect women before tragedy strikes.

Actor Mariyam Nafees shared a video of herself talking about multiple acts of violence against women in Pakistan.

“If she says no to a marriage proposal, we kill her. If she’s stranded in her car with her kids, we rape her. If she’s a girl, we kidnap her, sell her and rape her. If she gets married,  for some reason or the other, we burn her or kill her. If she’s a doctor, we throw acid on her in broad daylight. If she was born, we throw her in a garbage bin or drown her in a drain. But we talk about clothes because that is the biggest issue of our society — this is, I don’t even know what to say anymore.” 

Actor Saheefa Jabbar Khattak shared a note on Instagram about how morally policing women helps normalise hatred and contempt. 

“When people constantly speak against women’s clothing, their choices, their rights or even their mere existence, they help create an environment where misogyny thrives. The same mindset that shames women for what they wear is part of the culture that enables violence against them, where it’s acid attacks, murdering a wife for refusing sex, or brutalising a woman because she gave birth to a daughter,” she wrote.

“These horrific acts do not emerge in a vacuum. They are rooted in the same belief that women should be controlled, judged and punished for simply existing on their own terms.” 

Filmmaker Sharmeen Obaid Chinoy shared a screenshot of a story about the attack and said achievement, service or dignity has never protected women from violence.

“The shame belongs to the attacker and to our society that still allows this to happen.”

Actor Amna Ilyas highlighted that in the wrong hands, acid is a weapon.

“A woman should be able to go to work without fearing violence. We need accountability, justice and stricter control over substances that can be used to destroy lives,” she said.

“Another woman, incident, noise, then silence. Get well soon doc! Being an achiever woman in this society, you certainly need a guard. Rip life for a woman,” wrote host Shaista Lodhi, highlighting that the cycle of violence against women always end with the outrage soon dying down and then silence.

Actor Sana Javed called hearing news of the attack “deeply unsettling”.

“There is something extremely wrong when someone can so easily obtain acid and use it to destroy another person’s life. This is no longer just about one incident, it’s about how little has changed,” she wrote in an Instagram story.

Several celebrities shared a video of how to provide first aid in case of an acid attack, much to their regret. Hina Altaf said she her heart broke at having to share it, while Yasir Hussain said he’d seen videos of natural disasters but seeing this one shocked him.

Actor Ayesha Omar shared a lengthy note on the attack, calling it a “psychological one”.

“It’s an attack on her freedom, her professionalism, her independence, her autonomy, her education, her mind, her soul and her spirit. It reminds us of how unsafe women are, not just on the streets but at their so-called safe workplaces and even inside their own homes,” she wrote.

“She goes our to save lives and her own is ruined. By an employee of the same hospital. I’m shaken and shattered…I’m full of anger and rage.”

She called for major “mental reforms” in the country and a deep dive into how to “start shfiting the misogynistic, violent mindset prevalent in Pakistan on a grassroot level” for all tiers of society.

“It’s not about law and order only. It’s about shifting the sick, twisted mindset, otherwise we are heading towards complete collapse and destruction.”

The attack on Dr Nasir is not the first act of violence against a Pakistani woman and it won’t be the last, not when acid is easily available, when men can’t take no for an answer, and when society continues to turn the other way when it comes to protecting women.

On Saturday, a man threw acid at a female doctor at Quetta’s Civil Hospital, severely injuring her. Dr Mahnoor Nasir survived, but with 70 per cent of her body burned, according to hospital sources.

On Thursday, a 64-year-old man surrendered himself to the police in Karachi and confessed to killing his wife for refusing to engage in intercourse with him the night before.

After going through the horror of witnessing so much crime, Pakistanis on X asked how many more women have to go through this before something actually changes.

As always, there were people online blaming the victims of these tragedies, claiming there was some reason why they were attacked, as if women aren’t attacked at random. Netizens were not having it and responded by calling out the real culprits: misogyny and male entitlement.

People were understandably enraged at why, after so many acid attacks, acid was still easily available for any potential attacker to buy and even carry with him into a hospital.

While the Acid Control Crime and Prevention Act, 2011 requires sellers to record the personal details of buyers, the substance remains commercially available and is readily used for domestic applications like drain cleaning.

In the case of the man who murdered his wife, a clip of him emerged where lawyers were huddled around the killer telling him they’d represent him and he was “in the right”. Users on X were horrified, with one shocked the lawyers could do so and still face their mothers, daughters, wives and sisters at home.

Many believed men need to be taught how to take no for an answer.

And of course, for many, the main culprit is always feminism. Many netizens rolled their eyes at people at the scrutiny around feminism and what feminists stand for when women “continue to be killed, raped and burned by acid attacks”.

One user put one of the biggest struggles of being a woman in Pakistan into perspective — no woman is safe from attacks by entitled men.

A lot of people were angry.

The prevalence of violence against women in Pakistan signifies a deep, systemic rot in the way society thinks about and treats women. Until attitudes change and everyone starts seeing women as human beings worthy of respect and rights, we can’t expect anything to improve.

The question is: how many more women need to be killed and injured before society finally has had enough?

There have been multiple reports of fictional clashes between the two cities, with videos showing the use of ‘heavy weaponary’, many of which are being seen for the first time.

Fighting between infantry units has escalated into gruelling close quarters battles, with troops engaging in hand-to-hand combat in the trenches after munitions ran low on both sides.

The fighting took a turn for the worse after forces from Okara deployed a never-before-seen short-range rocket system against the Federation’s troops.

Armoured units soon entered the fight, with Sahiwal’s state-of-the-art light tanks routing Okaran formations, swiftly striking fear into the hearts of enemy troops.

As a countermeasure, Okara’s forces deployed super-fast trucks developed by their scientists at Area-52 — the facility was built by Sahiwal and has since been taken over by Okara after the Republic broke away.

The trucks are expected to be able to break through to the frontlines and provide much needed supplies to the Republic’s forces.

Artillery batteries from both sides have been hammering rival positions, with video showing shells criss-crossing in the air due to the sheer volume of fire on the front.

Okara has established absolute air supremacy in the skies over Sahiwal with its high-tech ‘aircraft’. Sahiwal’s air forces have resorted to using ground-based assets for strikes and have attempted to hit targets as far as Karachi — although reports indicate the strike package got stuck on University Road.

Wing Commander Chahat Fateh Ali Khan, a veteran of the India-Pakistan meme war of 2025, was intercepted by Okara and reportedly remains in custody.

Other cities are taking sides in the conflict and the fighting has spilled into other areas. There are fears this may turn into a major proxy conflict as Lahore has thrown its weight behind Sahiwal.

In response, Karachi has joined the war on Okara’s side with 4,000 men of the elite Korangi Cavalry being sent to support Okaran forces.

Bahawalpur has entered into a mutual defence agreement with Okara.

Muridke and Pattoki — both part of Lahore’s divisional sphere of influence — have rebelled and pledged support to Okara, sending naval units to blockade Sahiwal. Yeah, even we don’t know how that one works.

We have questions, so many questions. What on earth is going on? Who started this? Where is it headed? And how will the economy fare with the budget just days away?

We don’t have any answers yet, please send them in the comments if you do and stay tuned, there may be updates.

Where these mini-dress clad people — presumably women, though he didn’t specify — are roaming is a mystery to us, as it probably is to most of you. It would be educational for us all if he would enlighten us all about where exactly in Punjab women are roaming around in public in short dresses.

“As a father of two daughter I humbly request to madam CM Maryam Nawaz please make a law against those who wear short dresses in public places — bazaars and streets — otherwise we will all be destroyed culturally,” he wrote in his story.

Naturally, people — read: we — are confused. Who is he talking about? What bazaars and streets does he frequent in Punjab where people roam around in short dresses? What do his daughters have to do with his request? And why does he think CM Maryam should be policing what people are wearing?

The reaction online to his request is, of course, mixed. Some are most pleased at this strange statement, happy that our ‘culture’ will be protected from these faceless short dress-wearing people. Others argue that he never mentioned women, and therefore cannot be called misogynistic. Some believed he was talking about men in shorts — also, a much-debated topic in Pakistan. A fourth more sensible group is as confused as us, wondering what prompted this sudden outpouring of concern.

If anyone figures out what he’s talking about, please let us know.

Jaffer was sentenced to death in February 2022 by a sessions court in Islamabad for the 2021 murder of Noor Mukadam, with subsequent appeals in the Islamabad High Court and Supreme Court ending in rulings that upheld the punishment.

Users on X breathed a sigh of collective relief upon hearing the news, calling it a positive development for women’s rights, safety and the rule of law in Pakistan.

Netizens said Jaffer’s sentence sets an example that could serve as deterrence for other acts of violence against women.

One person said though it won’t bring Mukadam back, the dismissal of the review plea closes an avenue for the criminal in “one of Pakistan’s most horrific cases” to escape accountability.

Another advised caution, saying this case was only a start and there was still a long way to go when it came to protecting Pakistan’s women against violence.

A few others were less optimistic, saying justice remained out of reach for people without means and societal influence.

One user said Mukadam’s case was resolved in four to five years owing to her father’s influence as a retired diplomat. Another cited the examples of Natasha Danish and Shahrukh Jatoi — two influential people who were accused of murder and then later pardoned by the victims’ families.

There was also discussion around Jaffer’s defence in the case. His legal team told the court he suffered from mental health issues, attempting to use that as a reason for the murder, something the courts rejected. One person said such tactics end up hurting people who actually do need help with their mental health and increase the stigma around it.

With Thursday’s decision, a presidential pardon under Article 45 of the Constitution is the only way Jaffer can be given clemency with a suspension or commutation of his death sentence.

Talking about using Black Forest’s technology for storyboarding, the director said, “For 70 years, I’ve been creating my own storyboards. There’s always been this problem of ‘how do you communicate what you see in your head to your cast and crew’. There are some things you have to see and feel. I’m interested in the intersection of technology and storytelling, and seeing how that can push the bounds of creativity to create deeper and richer experiences for audiences… Now, with this tool, I can share what I’m visualising more clearly and efficiently to my creative team — the production designer, art designer, and cinematographer — for them to build on to enrich cinematic intelligence.”

While Scorsese appeared to hail AI as the next frontier in the development of cinema, fans were less than enthusiastic about one of Hollywood’s most iconic minds buying into the AI wave.

One user said it was part of a worrying trend of senior filmmakers such as James Cameron, George Miller and Ridley Scott pushing AI tech.

A few others contended that the even more worrying thing was that these older directors will probably not be around to see the effects of the tech “revolution” they’re advocating for.

As storyboarding is a proper function on any film set and storyboard artists working hard to bring a director’s vision to life, people were concerned about the impact this would have on their livelihoods.

Someone brought up Japanese animation legend Hayao Miyazaki’s principled stance against AI with a video in which he calls the idea to integrate AI in artistic work like his “an insult to life itself”.

Some fans, grieving the way the internet does, chose to meme their way through the situation.

Hollywood films aren’t the only arenas where humans are gradually being pushed out by AI. Bollywood is experimenting with the technology, there are attempts to bring an AI-generated actor into the mainstream and Vogue even featured an ad with an AI-generated model last year.

Last year also saw a trend where people used Chat GPT to remake their pictures into Miyazaki’s signature art style. We have no doubt he wasn’t happy about this.

Chacha Cricket, whose unwavering support for Pakistan’s cricket team in spite of their incredibly poor performance made him a symbol of hope for cricket fans everywhere, retired from cheering for the team in a ceremony on Tuesday.

The Pakistan Cricket Board treated the super-fan to a cake and a commemorative jersey presented by skipper Shaheen Afridi on the sidelines of the One Day International between Pakistan and Australia at Lahore’s Gaddafi Stadium — where Chacha watched his first international match in 1969.

Being a celebrity, Chacha’s fans were sad to see him leave the field and tributes poured in on X.

Ali Tareen, the former owner of the Multan Sultans and a bonafide cricket fanatic, recalled his memories seeing Chacha Cricket at Pakistan’s games.

Another user recalled meeting him as a kid and being inspired to cheer for Pakistan.

Naturally, netizens weren’t happy to see the green shirts lost Chacha’s farewell match. We’re all pretty used to seeing them lose, but this game was supposed to be special.

One user said he deserved better, while another speculated he may have chosen to retire because even he couldn’t stand the team’s incessant losing streak.

Whatever the cause may be, Chacha Cricket’s almost 500-match-long career of being Pakistan’s biggest cheerleader brought smiles, spirit and much-needed hope to a group of beleaguered fans who often don’t have much else to keep them going. He will be missed both on and off the field.

In a clip shared on Instagram, digital creator Rija Rafique identified a YouTube channel run by Noman Aleem, a “drama analyst and critic”, who she claimed was posting videos about Pakistani dramas and actors with digitally manipulated cover photos.

Rafique shared thumbnails of Aleem’s videos — which have since been changed — illustrating how specific body parts of Pakistanis actresses and other prominent figures had been digitally manipulated in order to “entice the male gaze”.

She explained that any act through which Artificial Intelligence and digital tools are used to cause “physical, sexual or psychological harm” to women is termed “technology-facilitated gender-based violence”.

She added that just because a woman is a public figure, “that does not mean you have the right to manipulate her images in any way you wish, because that is illegal”.

Rafique pointed out that under the Constitution, nobody could “attack the natural dignity” of another person. She added that the Prevention of Electronic Crimes (Amendment) Act (Peca), 2025, Section 2R on the regulation of “unlawful or offensive online content”, particularly subsections (f) and (g), held liable for blocking or removal any online content which is “obscene or pornographic” or “fake”.

Rafique claimed there had been a surge in gender-based violence as social media access grew from 2019 onwards.

She said she wasn’t against the rising popularity of social media, but regretted that “the patriarchy we face in the physical world now has a modified form of misogyny online in the shape of harassment, stalking and image-based violence”.

In a comment under the video, Rafique claimed Aleem had changed the thumbnails of the videos she had mentioned, but she had saved screenshots of the objectionable content.

In the comments section a number of celebrities appreciated her for raising this important issue.

Romaisa Khan said she had come across the channel on YouTube earlier and had to “immediately report it” for its content. She said the issue wasn’t just the thumbnails but also that “how they talk about the actors is disgusting”.

Naeema Butt called on Punjab Chief Minister Maryam Nawaz to take action against Aleem, calling his videos a “shameful act”. She asked the YouTuber what the actors had done to him and if he had any fear of punishment for what he was doing.

Bushra Ansari calls out fake quotes

Elsewhere on the internet, veteran actor Bushra Ansari clarified that she was not responsible for politically charged statements being attributed to her on social media.

In a post on Instagram, she said, “It has come to my attention that some fake graphics and political statements are being circulated on social media using my picture. I want to make it absolutely clear to all of you that I have never shared or supported any political narrative and these false statements have zero connection to me.”

In the caption, the actor called the actions “cheap and criminal”, adding that such use of social media was “awful”.

An explosion hit the train as it was passing through a railway crossing in the provincial capital, derailing passenger bogies and destroying a number of vehicles waiting for the train to cross.

As Pakistanis mourned the tragedy, celebrities joined the nation in expressing their grief at the loss of life. Mahira Khan saw the city bleed again and couldn’t help but ask: “How much more?”

Sarwat Gilani posted a story with broken hearts.

Talha Anjum minced no words and said he stood “with our soldiers” against the “terrorists” who took “innocent lives” in the attack. The rapper also sent prayers for the souls of those who had died.

Farhan Saeed similarly said his “heart goes out to all the victims and [their] families”. He said he wished Pakistani forces would “make examples” out of those responsible. The singer said the attack was the work of Pakistan’s enemy, which had to be defeated “at any cost”.

Designer Hassan Sheheryar Yasin spoke for many people across Pakistan when he said, “Today our hearts are heavy with the pain of so many innocent lives lost and families forever changed.”

The attack occurred shortly after 8am on Sunday when the train was travelling from Quetta Cantonment to the city’s main railway station. People present near the site of the incident recounted hearing a loud explosion and seeing people run for cover.

A statement from the provincial government said the victims included three members of the Frontier Constabulary and a number of “pedestrians, passengers, bystanders, and residents living in houses adjacent to the blast site”. A family of four, a couple and their two children, were among the casualties.

The world was forced to confront that reality on Tuesday when the company announced its iconic search bar would be “totally reimagined with AI” in what it described as the biggest change to the web’s favourite search engine in 25 years.

The comment section was full of people telling Google this was a terrible idea nobody had asked for.

Some users threatened to walk out on the world’s most popular search engine if the change was implemented. They even had alternatives prepared for this exact scenario.

Users reacting to the company’s announcement on X asked it to please do away with the idea of putting AI in everything and let the internet heal.

One user, probably tired of fighting the AI surge and wanting to not experience any more of it, asked Google to at least allow people to opt out of the new development.

While Google’s move seems common-sense on the surface, especially in the context of the rise of AI chatbots as tools of retrieving information, that’s not the full picture. AI agents — including Google’s own Gemini which the AI-search feature will operate on — are known to be susceptible to manipulation.

The bots often push popular but unverified information as fact, leading to a dangerous potential to spread misinformation. While some services — including Google’s current system of AI summaries — attempt to counter this by citing sources, many people do not check these citations before accepting the information as factual.

There are also the environmental impacts of artificial intelligence, with the technology having been criticised for its heavy clean water usage.

Estimates indicate 10 to 50 prompts on an AI agent use up roughly half a litre of water; multiply that by three and its the water an average person needs to consume in a day, multiply it by millions and we have an environmental crisis waiting to happen.

With water scarcity and misinformation both being prevalent issues, it’s worth asking if AI really is the next frontier of technology or if we’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere.

While the sentence awaits confirmation from the Islamabad High Court, Pakistanis on X are saying justice has finally been served.

Netizens said every victim deserves justice.

Sana’s parents spoke to the media after the judgment was announced. Her mother, Farzana, thanking the team of lawyers for their efforts and police for their cooperation, said justice had been served. She thanked the judge and the media, noting that the “media supported us from the beginning”.

“The culprit has been handed the right punishment,” she said.

Sana’s father, Yousaf Hassan, said, “We had been waiting for today for the past 11 months […] and the judiciary has given its verdict in the spirit of justice.”

Thanking his lawyers, he said: “This verdict is not just for me as an individual; it is for the entire society. This is a lesson for all such criminals in society that if they commit such an act, they can get such a result.”

The ensemble was inspired by white peacocks, with her outfit incorporating mukesh and zardozi embroidery with mirror-work, making Saeed shimmer in camera flashes like the star she is.

According to a post from Rehar’s brand, it took 50 artisans over 2,300 hours to finish the intricate handiwork.

The jewellery also kept to the theme, with the silver and diamond set including ear cuffs inspired by a peacock’s feathers. Flowers braided into her hair completed the look.

Everyone on X agreed she looked stunning and many felt that this was a major moment for Pakistani representation.

Some users from outside Pakistan also wanted a piece of the representation pie. In fact, they felt entitled to it.

Of course, Pakistanis were not having it and the clapbacks began flying across the border.

One user asked if the people wanting to claim Saeed and Rehar today were the same ones willing to throw hands over Pakistanis saying biryani was joint cultural heritage.

Others asked why users from across the border weren’t happy with India’s own representatives at Cannes — actors Alia Bhatt, Huma Qureshi, Urvashi Rautela and billionaire heiress Isha Ambani were among the many Indian names in town at the same time.

Some people insisted Saeed was indeed South Asian and there was nothing wrong with saying that, but the use of the label had to be reciprocal to be fair.

Then a user pointed out the golden rule for what label to use — or at least the rule used by the Indian side.

Of course, nobody bothered to ask the representative whom she was representing, choosing instead to make their own story around Saeed and her appearance. She made herself clear in an Instagram post on Sunday.

The star at the centre of all the drama said she was “a South Asian woman representing Pakistan and our heritage and craft”.

She said she walked the red carpet “for the women of Pakistan, for the ones who came before us, for the ones who are yet to come and for the ones [who] are never seen behind the scenes”.

The actor cut off her long locks and is now rocking a pixie — just in time for the summer — and everyone has lost their minds. From shock to horror, there are a lot of reactions online, especially on X where sane opinions go to die, so we thought we’d address some of them.

Sajal posted a picture of her new haircut on her stories on Tuesday night. Many speculated that it might be a filter.

She then posted a video of her hair to her account, and her sister, Saboor Aly, commented, which many took as confirmation that this was no filter or wig.

The internet then lost their collective minds. We’ve picked some of the tame reactions to include in this article.

There were some sane voices that pointed out that Sajal was not in fact the first Pakistani woman to get a pixie cut and that they actually used to be pretty common.

There were also others who understood that this was not normal behaviour.

We understand that many people appear to have a parasocial relationship with Sajal’s hair — if you take ‘understand’ to mean begrudgingly accept with great contempt — but the line really must be drawn somewhere.

If you don’t like a pixie cut, don’t get one, but Sajal has a right to get whatever haircut she wants. Sure, no one can stop you from having an opinion on her hair, though we don’t understand why it would be a point of conversation you feel deeply enough to post rants on social media about, but at some point, you’ve got to let it go and touch grass.

The girl got a haircut and everyone is acting like she’s committed a crime against humanity. It’s her hair and if she wanted to shave it all off, that would be her choice too.

And for all those in the ‘we have a right to our opinion’ camp, yes, you certainly do, but that doesn’t mean it’s valid.

We’d also like to remind everyone, this is Sajal Aly we’re talking about. She looks good in anything and everything.

TLDR: Let Sajal Aly get whatever haircut she wants because she looks good in everything.

The Next Salahuddin, a children’s film about a Gazan boy who dreams of conquering Jerusalem, has been picked up by HUM TV for a future release, the channel announced on Friday. The film had a limited theatrical run earlier this year across nine Pakistani cities.

Created by Jinn TV, the film follows Yousuf, whose childhood is taken away from him by a — presumably Israeli — airstrike that kills his family members and leaves him buried under the rubble of his home.

The boy then works towards his goal of uniting Muslims around the world to avenge his people and raise the Palestinian flag over the Al Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem, shadowing the achievements of Salahuddin Ayubi — the Muslim general who captured the city during the Crusades.

The film was conceptualised by Ustadh Asim Ismail and brought to life by Farhan Siddiqui, who wrote and created it using AI. A Malaysian non-profit organisation, Cinta Gaza Malaysia, was also involved in the film’s development.

In the announcement’s comment section, the mood was less jovial than expected and people wondered if this was really the right way to go about making a film on such an important topic.

Netizens questioned if HUM TV, part of one of the largest media companies in Pakistan, lacked the resources to make a film on the Palestinian struggle without using AI.

Some users pointed out the controversies surrounding the use of AI itself, like its wasteful use of clean water and the fact it has been called out for enabling the exploitation of artists and writers.

Others made their point very clear: AI is not art. They also called on people to boycott generative AI.

HUM TV has not given a release date for the film yet and it remains to be seen how the film will be received by audiences when it does air.

While one can occasionally need social and material support from those around them, the gendered aspect of this equation is rather unsavoury, especially when the one being served is a man, and the women are the obligatory givers. Women chronically break their backs to provide for the men around them and Kafeel takes us through the tipping point of this cultural crisis.

Typically, women work overtime caring for the home, the kids and the elderly. Add a man to this mix of caregiving and homes topple. The premise of this drama is the call-out that any marriage will break apart when a man doesn’t provide financially, emotionally and psychologically.

The reason this drama is fresh is that the falling apart is not depicted as the woman’s fault, in fact, what makes Kafeel rare is that it does not even entertain the notion of whether it might be. A blameless woman is refreshingly close to the human condition and reminds me of the Haseena Moin and Noorul Huda Shah era of Pakistani dramas. It reminds me of the point Hum Gunahgar Aurtain was making when Kishwar Naheed wrote the poem about almost everything being a woman’s fault.

It takes two to bhangra

Perhaps some feminists would call this a very archaic take on gender roles — the assumption that a man brings home the nihari and the woman provides homely dhobi services — but the point I’d like to make is that men have so much privilege in society, the least they can do is the job that gains them all that privilege in the first place.

You must have heard the trite bicycle-wheel analogy — that a marriage can only work if both wheels are working. Sadly, in Pakistani contexts, this lame analogy is only used if a woman doesn’t perform her role well, hardly ever is a man held accountable for a lifetime of freeloading off women’s invisible labour.

The other injustice rests in the fact that we do need these gender norms to prevail in earnest because the economy is so archaic. Especially during child-rearing years, men need to bring in the food because women, though capable, are stretched thin. Pakistan, for all practical purposes, is stuck in a pre-industrial time — agrarian for the most part — where only 23 per cent of women enter the workforce, mainly in menial or care jobs. Only a negligible portion of women have more than a $1,000 in their bank accounts. So, there is no way that traditional gender roles don’t rule this world.

After Rafia Zakaria’s takedowns of white feminism, it becomes imperative to understand that being more modern does not necessitate being more liberated for women in this non-white context. I believe that working women in Pakistan got the short end of the stick because they entered the workforce and ended up doing three jobs for low pay. They do these three jobs — home, work and caregiving — while their spouses sometimes have merely one job, or in the case of Kafeel, no job at all.

Earning money does not always earn women dignity. In fact, they may even be looked down upon, resulting in lower status.

The value of a woman’s work

The rupee must be valued, because any disposable income a woman has in this society is going to be spent on her family. Yet, the economics of empowerment dictate that you are only as powerful as your disposable income. So, working women are no more and no less than indentured servants, blocked within the framework of the traditional wife and daughter-in-law, with only a paycheque to show for their aspirational freedom.

But aspirational freedom is not real freedom.

A paycheque earned by a middle-class woman goes mostly toward paying for the rising cost of diapers, milk, salt, school fees, bus fees and bitter gourds. There is nothing left for her own protection.

This is the world Sanam Saeed’s character Zeba inhabits as she runs on the hamster wheel of providing for her four children. And this is precisely what Kafeel understands that almost no Pakistani drama before it has bothered to — that the system failing Zeba is not abstract. It has a face. It is her husband, Jami’s face.

The drama does not examine the economy nor the patriarchy — it locates the rot in one man’s refusal to be accountable, and it does not flinch from that.

Until Kafeel came along, no one tackled the anthropological disaster that is the modern Pakistani working woman stuck with a man who loves glory more than his children. No one depicted, with all its ugliness, how gross it is to see a mother burn the candle at both ends. No one had chronicled how unsavoury it is when a perfectly intelligent woman abandons herself for the sake of societal acceptance.

A believable drama with extraordinary performances

Saeed has been a spectacular show of force in her performance especially for the believability with which she dramatises the mayhem of walking the world of marriage alone, with only responsibility as her life force. Her performance has been on point.

No one says she should not be Sisyphus, pushing a boulder uphill with her mere nail. We women have been doing the boulder-pushing for eons, proving that if only we gave a few more drops of blood to domesticity, the bicycle would be a bicycle. But sometimes a spanner is just a spanner. Relationships are saved by more than one person.

You strip a woman of all power, yet when it comes to saving the home, she is paradoxically held as the most powerful. Women stay in such situations predominantly due to a poverty of time — time to think, plan and strategise an exit.

When a woman is exhausted, no one is surprised. It is the most normal thing for a star-crossed woman to chaotically run from one end to another, doing something lifesaving.

But seeing a woman in control, poised, with enough money to throw at several problems until she has no problem left, is a sight no one has seen. I am willing to bet our mothers’ generation has never been caught enjoying their lives, merely chilling out. Yet what is it that we see men doing? Their life is a proverbial golf course, a proverbial charpoy, a proverbial pulpit, a proverbial couch or keyboard.

The contrast is so stark between Zeba, and Jami, that you want to reach out across the screen and shake him out of his moronic life goals — which include eating chicken patties, cribbing and complaining, and insisting that Zeba has raised the kids ‘wrong’.

The fact that he is painfully good looking is not helpful at all. But then again, most narcissists are. If they aren’t, they have so much charm that they make up for it. Highly toxic and severely emotionally challenged, Jami’s character is loathsome without being melodramatic. An evil character portrayed especially well. 

Come back in a coffin and other wedding gifts

Zeba and Jami are a household phenomenon.

The girl is wed, she is told to never return to her family home except in a coffin. Soon after, tiny pieces of her are shipped back to what was once her home in tinier coffins. In return, she receives handouts from her family, because the man she married refused to get a job, insisting that he came from privilege and maintaining a false sense of aristocracy.

Typically, what happens in a Zeba-Jami mess is that society looks the other way forever. Jami would refuse to be held accountable, and get more set in his ways. Zeba would decide to redouble her efforts, assuming she needed to prove herself. Typically, it is always a win-win for Jami.

Instead, Kafeel refuses to be a ‘typical’ drama. It does not deal in the usual Pakistani drama bargain where the woman’s suffering is redeemed by her patience. It demands that the man answer for himself. In Pakistani television, that is close to revolutionary.

Kafeel is a spiritual drama. It insists that there is more to marriage than a transfer of power. It insists, in the form of Zeba’s wizened father, that a marriage is a contract. One party not pulling their weight in life will cause a fissure, then a gaping hole, and eventually there will be a legal breach of contract. No matter how much one acts like Zeba.

I know no elder who has been that wise.

Elders become wise like this after the woman leaves, not before she leaves and certainly not during. Elders these days are all about the convenience of optics — how it looks to everyone. Elders are — and almost always have been — addicted to a woman who is muzzled or silenced at all costs and makes very little fuss.

Elders insist that once a mistake has been made and a match is not a good fit, that the mistake must be converted into a life sentence. Some call it sabar-shukar. Kafeel calls it peace at the cost of justice.

Zeba’s father is the real hero

In the drama, there is such immense clarity from Zeba’s father when he says that the role of the man is to instil peace with justice. It may be a role for a woman too, but first, a man must be a protector. With the GDP per capita ratio being what it is in Pakistan, it is important that that provision means money.

Zeba’s father does not shy away from talking money.

Often, when the broader relative cabal wants the woman to not make a peep, they usually do so because they are uncomfortable about speaking about the role money has in the breakdown of a marriage. But money is ubiquitous. Money is everything. It is hair on a good hair day, it is a breeze after a 10k hike, it is a shawl at the beginning of winter, and it certainly pays those relative’s food bills.

Yet, there is so much aversion to honest money-talk. There is so much distaste for talking about this one thing that fuels your life.

Jami can’t work, won’t work

Jami is a sick man. My thesis is that men who are kept, and then willingly stay within the confines of false status are removed from the blessings of good old fashioned hard work. They find hustle beneath their glory and would rather the women slog at work just like they do at home.

The truth of the economy evades them and the truth of the household economy definitely evades them. They have no clue what proportion and measure go into running a household — the cost of the UPS, plumbing repairs and the rising price of LNG and gasoline, or even the mounting health costs of a dysfunctional household.

Pakistan makes no sense sometimes, making weddings a million-dollar industry but making marriages a woman-only problem. Zeba is a special breed because she thinks: no, thank you.

There is always a point in a woman’s life where something gives way. For Zeba, it was getting shoved against the wall and having her mouth twisted. She spoke up with that same mouth when she asked for her right to a safe environment.

Every time a woman snaps in two, an angel somewhere sings.

The Jamis of the world are just people, not deities we are made to worship and bow down to thanks to male privilege. Male privilege in moderate quantities is a slow poison for women, but in excess, it snaps a woman in two.

Kafeel beautifully portrays how this poison can become an impetus through which a woman can rise from the ashes. But first, she has to use her feet.

Actors and models tasked their good friend Chat GPT to get them ready for the biggest night in global fashion and the results were… something.

Azfar Rehman — The one who followed the dress code

Let’s start with one of the better ones. Azfar Rehman’s “Met Gala look” was a suit and cape inspired by Barcelona’s iconic La Pedrera — a heritage building from the early 20th-century designed by Antoni Gaudi. It was perhaps the only look that kept to the Gala’s theme of ‘Fashion is Art’.

On the flip side, Mehwish Hayat called the outfit “very holesome” and we’re kinda mad we didn’t come up with that one.

Tooba Siddiqui — Mad Max: GT Road

Tooba Siddiqui kept things desi and likely used “goth truck art” — three words that have probably never been uttered together before –– in the prompt she used for her dress.

What came out can only be described as “truck art if the truck driver was also a pirate”. There’s very little colour, there are skulls, everything is black. It looks like something a toxic ex would wear to your wedding.

Srha Asgr — Fashion is the art gallery

In a leap of logic only AI is capable of, Srha Asgr’s look said, “Fashion is art, art is found in galleries, therefore fashion is the gallery.”

Her gown was covered from neck to toe in — empty — picture frames, making us wonder whether she was sending a message about the new-age obsession with everything picture-perfect, or if she just called it a day after a couple of messages with her chatbot.

Hina Altaf — Dressed for the wrong year

Hina Altaf had her look generated for a Met Gala, just not the one in 2026. Her look, a form-fitting tunic with a mandarin collar and gold embroidery would have worked for past events which focused on history — maybe 1979, when the theme was the Hapsburg-era fashion.

Still, if she’d get something similar made by real people and wear it to a real event, we think it could work.

Ahmed Ali Butt — Solar Superman

Okay, Ahmed Ali Butt’s creation was definitely unfit for this year’s Met Gala. He knows it, we know it, everyone knows it.

Still, the actor did send a message about renewable energy with the wings embedded with solar panels and a gas cylinder with “no gas” printed on it. We’re not sure we get the Jordans though.

Jokes aside, it’s odd to see so many artists resort to AI for costume inspiration at a time when Pakistani fashion can be said to be experiencing a golden age both at home and abroad.

Pakistan’s art scene would perhaps be better served if these celebrities worked with their friends and colleagues in the fashion industry to host an actual themed gala to benefit our own museums.

When the world is turning to Pakistani brands like Warp and Rastah for fashion, why are our own celebrities going to half-baked robots to dress them up anyway?

The movie starts off with Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway), who is finally the investigative journalist she dreamed of becoming. She’s about to accept a journalism award when she, along with her entire team, gets fired. Andy proceeds to deliver a speech about the importance of journalism and how the story matters more than the money.

Her speech is a testament to the current state of the media. It’s no longer the over-beautified and glorified early 2000s. Rom-coms from that era sold us a false dream of girlhood and making it as a successful writer. It was simply a tried-and-tested trope that worked at the time.

With the new movie, it’s clear that the trope looks quite different now. The Devil Wears Prada 2 was, on a whole, good. It was fun, nostalgic and exciting to revisit characters and spaces we cherished years ago. Meryl Streep stuns, as always, as Miranda Priestly, although I do think her character was much softer in this film and that she initially seemed to accept her fate in the downfall of Runway.

Stanley Tucci as Nigel is as witty and classy as ever. The movie touched upon the fashion, the conglomerates and the chaos of the industry but still somehow fell short because a sequel is never as good as the original. The plot looks different now and I think the best thing the movie did was comment on the dying media landscape. It hit all the right notes with the fashion, the art, the office space and the cameos, although the score could have been better.

Storytellers versus systems

Whether it was Runway, Poise Magazine (13 Going on 30), Composure (How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days) or Scarlet (The Bold Type), the early 2000s emerged as the girl boss, glossy magazine era. Today, the media industry (even in rom-coms) looks different.

The Devil Wears Prada built a brand that relied on the expression of bold fashion and luxury, as well as the rise of print media. But now, with part two, there are some realities fiction cannot hide from. Print media has died, leaving editors to create reels and polls, and writers to rely on clicks for their voices to mean something.

In the film, Runway has been digitised and the people behind the magazine are scrambling to hold it together. Finance bros like BJ Novak are now making big decisions for things they don’t know anything about. As Miranda asked in one of my favourite scenes from the movie, what about artistry?

The value society places on storytelling and good journalism has been dying for a while, but beyond that, the movie shows how power has shifted. Even Miranda, someone who has been in the field for years, has a lingering fear of being let go. And that is a clear reflection of the industry today. The stakeholders are different now and the power no longer lies with cultural producers — it lies with corporations.

As Kriti Gupta writes for Refinery29, “The ‘devil’ isn’t Miranda Priestly. It’s the room she’s standing in.”

We ask ourselves now, 20 years after the release of The Devil Wears Prada, how does the world look different? In an age of AI, clickbait journalism, doomscrolling and bed-rotting, people are not reading enough. Listicles rake in the numbers and long-form pieces are left in the dust.

When Andy publishes her first piece as features editor of Runway, she gets some solid feedback from others but Miranda asks a pressing question: “But did people read it?” And that was, in fact, what mattered to her. Even a journalist like Andy, who initially wanted to chase the great American story, began spending her time analysing metrics.

The collapse of feminist media spaces

So many women-run media companies have shut down over the past three years — Gal-dem, Bitch Media, Self Magazine. Refinery29 has been downsizing. Teen Vogue no longer exists. There’s a clear pattern here — feminist publications have been shutting down and shrinking and I don’t think it’s because people don’t read them.

In the age of AI and the finance bro, there seems to be a lack of value people place on publications like these, leading to a loss of independent female voices. I worked at an all-women-run digital media company for years and we housed voices from across the globe, told stories that mattered, but we shut down too. It isn’t that the media industry is dying — it’s that there has been a global shift from community-run spaces to corporate control.

An entire ecosystem is burning to the ground, and we can’t do anything about it because of ‘evolution’ and the patriarchy and the loss of individualism in this age.

The advertising economy

Magazines used to be filled with pages of luxury ads. Advertisers relied heavily on these publications to get word of their products out there. Brands now no longer need to rely on a “middleman” — they run their own ads on social media. Now, we rely on algorithms and there is no longer someone filtering the content we receive. The audience, the readers, never went anywhere, but the power has definitely shifted.

Journalist Harry Cheadle writes, “Digital media companies were attracting their audiences in large part through social media apps and search engines — that audience wasn’t ‘ours’ in any meaningful sense. These platforms gradually realised they wanted to keep people on Instagram or Facebook or the Google results page rather than sending the traffic to publishers.”

In the age of Substack, where Cheadle wrote his essay on the death of the digital media, writers are seeking out spaces to actively put their work out there. Some of that work may have initially existed within publications that have now shut down.

People are still searching for that community that was once created through this fantasy of magazines. But community looks different now. And while the end of The Devil Wears Prada 2 gave us hope, with Miranda still helming Runway, the message about the transformation of the media industry is clear.

The movie isn’t a serious retelling of the industry nor is it supposed to be. It’s just a reminder that we are now living in a solo creator economy. Every industry is shaped by the new generation and maybe it’s time to let go of the fantasy and ground ourselves in reality.

The media industry isn’t really dying, it’s just restructuring.

The activists, including Sheema Kermani and Karachi City Council member Shahzadi Rai, were released later in the day on the orders of Sindh Home Minister Ziaul Hasan Lanjar, but not before public outcry began on X over what some netizens called a sign of “shrinking” civil liberties.

Others called the display “shameful”. They questioned why the right to peaceful assembly was being infringed upon and whether it was even upheld anymore, especially when it came to Aurat March.

People, including activist Zulfikar Ali Bhutto Jr, were especially outraged at clips of Kermani being manhandled by police personnel and being pushed into the back of a police car.

People wondered if this is how members of the province’s ruling party are treated — Rai is a member of the PPP — how would the police deal with non-members. Her arrest was also condemned by netizens as “unacceptable”.

Another video of an activist being carried into a police van was labelled a “disgrace”.

As the date of their annual protest approaches, Aurat March organisers have said they “will not back down” from their demand to hold the protest in Karachi and will continue to seek the necessary clearance.

They called the police action a “scare tactic” and demanded an explanation from the government on why their activists were arrested and why the NOC is being delayed.

This underage casting trend recalibrates how Pakistani audiences view girlhood and its possibilities. Girls are being written into marriages and emotionally difficult relationships in unequal dynamics. Many TV series depict young girls playing adult roles; instead of casting them as adolescents navigating education, identity, or friendships, these series show girls as marriageable adults, romantic interests, wives, and emotional anchors. They compress, accelerate, and ultimately erase girlhood, both narratively and socially.

At first glance, this trend is just an extension of long-standing tropes and casting trends. It’s no surprise that young women have always been sexualised, commodified, and cast opposite much older men. Audiences have been conditioned to like young female actors. Pakistani TV has also historically relied on narratives of young, naïve, pliable girls paired with older, ‘more mature’ men.

These dramas frequently position the teenage heroine as both childlike and romantically desirable, or childlike hence desirable. However, what makes this recent trend more problematic is not simply the age gap — it’s the narrative insistence that these girls are ready for adulthood, that they can and should seamlessly transition into marriage and motherhood. This girl, this heroine is simultaneously someone to be dismissed, guided, disciplined, and ultimately possessed.

This trend is particularly concerning in a country where public discourse around women’s right to education, work, access to public spaces, and choosing a life partner is already very contentious.

Amid the ongoing debates over gender-based rights and responsibilities in Pakistan, this trend both normalises the adultification of girls, ie the premature attribution of adult roles and responsibilities to young girls, and also conditions the audience to accept it.

This adultification operates alongside implicit sexualisation of girls. Girls are not only expected to behave like grown women but are also consistently framed as desirable and thereby marriageable within adult romantic economies. It is critical to remember that violence against women in Pakistan often occurs because men believe that women should be available to them romantically, or because men insist that women should be available for marriage, or because men expect that women should unconditionally perform their gendered responsibilities as assigned to them by the patriarchy.

What happens when men watch the romanticised reassurances of the same beliefs and expectations on their TV screens? What happens when young girls watch romanticised versions of these patriarchal beliefs and fantasies portrayed as girls’ success on their TVs?

Meem Se Mohabbat, P Se Problem

Let’s look at Meem Se Mohabbat, starring Dananeer Mobeen and Ahad Raza Mir. Roshi is introduced as a chulbuli, clumsy girl who, in the first episode, fails her Bachelors of Engineering admission test. Based on this, she is presumably 17 to 19 years old. Yet, by the last episode, the same teenager is married to her boss, who is a successful businessman and a divorced father of a five to six-year-old son with a speaking disability. During her journey from an intern to boss’s wife, the story problematises this age gap.

At one point, the boss’s girlfriend accuses Roshi and says, “Tum apni kam-umri ka faida utha ker Talha Ahmed ko hasil kernay ko koshish ker rahi ho (you are trying to use your youth to get Talha Ahmed).” The boss, Talha, describes her as a “gher zimadar, immature, aur kam-umer larki (irresponsible, immature and underage girl).” On the surface, this attention to their age gap highlights that the relationship is inappropriate.

However, the narrative also uses it to infantilise Roshi, to show that she needs a caretaker. The drama ultimately resolves this tension of their age gap — not by challenging or undoing the romantic relationship — but by romanticising it.

Not only does the series romanticise and neutralise their age gap, but it also declares Roshi responsible for this romantic resolution. In the last episode, she incredulously says to the boss, “aap ne mujhse kahan shadi kerni thi (since when did you want to marry me)?” and he responds “tumahri zidd aur mohabbat jeet gai (your stubbornness and love won).”

The series shows that the boss married the intern only because of her persistence, ignoring that he makes Roshi’s fiancé disappear on their wedding day to ‘save’ her and marries her himself. Young Roshi’s zidd or stubbornness is framed as triumphant, while the man’s hesitation due to the age gap is recast as his moral conscientiousness.

Focus on her triumphant zidd creates the illusion of Roshi’s agency, and it absolves the boss of any wrongdoing. The drama rewards the young intern by endowing both wifehood and motherhood on her. This pairing of a young girl with an older man reinforces a model of heterosexual desire, one that privileges male authority and female youth. The drama becomes a reassurance of this male desire because it first problematises, then normalises, and eventually romanticises this desire for the audience.

Meem Se Mohabbat also maternalises the young girl. It links her desirability to her capacity for care, her potential for motherhood. Many of the romantic moments between the couple occur when Roshi interacts with her boss’s son. Instead of showing her as an adult with the child, due to Roshi’s childlikeness and her age, they appear to be children of different ages. And somehow, many of these scenes are followed by the boss romantically gazing at her.

The boss also goes on to threaten Roshi that if something were to happen to his son, he would hold her responsible. Mind you, the girl couldn’t even take care of herself at the start of the series. He himself appears to be failing at taking care of his child. But he shifts his own failure as a father onto the girl before they are even married.

Kafeel’s entirely too quiet feminism

Let’s also look at Kafeel, starring Sanam Saeed and Emmad Irfani, which is a women’s rights-oriented drama. Zeba’s parents suspect she is having an affair, so they quickly marry her off to the first available man, Jami. She is not allowed to even complete her education. After she’s married, she learns that her husband is unemployed, irresponsible, and disloyal to her.

Her father encourages her to get a divorce, but other women, including her mother and grandmother, push against it. Zeba becomes the sole bread earner in her household and raises her three daughters and a son without any financial or emotional support from her husband.

But Zeba, seemingly, does not learn much from her own experience as a woman in a financially and emotionally abusive marriage. Instead of teaching her daughters the importance of financial autonomy, she hopes that they will marry up. The sole aspiration she shares for her eldest daughter is a good husband, big kitchen, and a big house after marriage.

Zeba’s sister is a successful architect and lives in a palatial house that she designed with her husband. But instead of actively modelling her to highlight the possibility of financial autonomy along with a successful marriage, the drama reduces her to a minor character.

Many episodes focus on the eldest daughter Javeria’s marriage and use it as a tool to highlight the problems they face due to their father. Zeba’s daughters’ friend, Daneen’s whole character is based on her desire to marry Zeba’s son, Subuk. Daneen is a school-going girl and is shown wearing a school (or perhaps a college) uniform in the drama. Even inside the school, the topic of conversation is her marriage with Subuk. We never learn much about these girls beyond their own or their mothers’ desires about their marriages.

We never learn what any of these girls study, what their interests are, or what their career aspirations are. Though both their mother and aunt are working women, instead of learning about the importance of financial autonomy, the daughters are shown to hope for a more responsible husband for their chances at a life better than their mother’s. It reduces young girls to dependents awaiting marriage, without ever assigning them complete personhood.

Within the plot, there is an internal contradiction: the series that aims to highlight women’s rights ends up centring teenage girls in marriage plots, making its own message ambiguous. It feeds into the widely-believed idea of daughter as a liability, a responsibility, a burden. The series gestures toward themes of women’s empowerment — showing, for instance, a mother who gains independence through employment and secures a khula. Yet this lesson is not extended to the daughters.

This reflects a broader pattern of feminist façade in television, where dramas flippantly acknowledge feminist ideas but rarely integrate them into their storylines. They create the appearance of feminist engagement without a substantive shift in narrative priorities.

By framing early marriage as romantic or inevitable, these dramas also make limited access to education, economic dependency, gender-based violence, and legal vulnerabilities seem inescapable. By collapsing adolescence into adulthood, these TV series actively reshape the boundaries of girlhood.

Many of these female actors presumably come from the upper-middle class, and are academically and professionally ambitious, as any young girls should be. But, ironically, their work provides the Pakistani public reassurances of regressive patriarchal beliefs. At a time when feminists are challenging early marriages, advocating for women’s education, and demanding greater autonomy for women in Pakistan, the persistent portrayal of teenage girls as wives and mothers strengthens the barriers keeping women down.

This trend suggests that, despite the changing discourse, the fundamental expectations placed on girls remain the same.

These series also shape the aesthetic orientations of the audience as they get used to seeing girls in adult roles, and thereby age out senior female actors. Female actors have always faced this gendered ageism and often share how their professional prospects dwindle or become limited while their male counterparts continue to play heroes.

Comments on female actors’ social media posts are often ageist. Recently, in an interview, Firdous Jamal defined a heroine as a “15 to 16-year-old, or at maximum 18 to 20-year-old girl” who is “chulbuli”, “chanchal”, “innocent” and “excites the audience”.

Unsurprisingly, the actor playing the eldest daughter in Kafeel, Nooray Zeeshan, is 16 years old. She shared that she was offered multiple roles because she looks ‘innocent’. This casting practice eliminates or limits the possibility of work for female actors after a certain age. Patriarchies have always prized women’s innocence and naiveté and underage casting exacerbates this. Teenagers are the desired target of both patriarchy and capitalism: young enough to be moulded, old enough to be sexualised and commodified.

In centring teenage girls in adult roles on screen, these dramas offer both a reassurance and a continued fantasy to their male audience, of a world where young girls remain available to older men, where girls remain financially and emotionally dependent, hence exploitable.

For the female audience, these dramas romanticise the misconception that their value lies in their youth, their innocence, and their marriageability. But this reassurance and romanticisation comes at a cost that girls and women continue to pay for everyone’s entertainment.