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In the Pakistani television landscape, which is almost saturated with cookie-cutter dramas, the latest ARY Digital sensation Noor Jahan is making waves. From women-centric Facebook groups to community WhatsApp chats, Noor Jahan is reigning supreme, sparking heated debates, invoking speculations, and garnering loads of admiration. Even the most ardent drama skeptics are finding themselves drawn into the deliciously glamorous world of this drama, binge-watching episodes and discussing the revenge agendas and wardrobe choices of the female leads with the fervour of cricket fans analysing a Pakistan-India match.

This article is about exploring each delicious aspect behind the Noor Jahan hype.

Over the last decade, our television screens have been dominated by traditional family soap operas, popularly known as the “saas-bahu” dramas. These shows aim to reflect the spicy biryani of rifts between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law in joint family systems, generational conflicts, the ultimate social pit of marriage, and other perpetually problematic issues such as divorce, abortion, and second marriage.

Traditional family soap operas can swing from soaring high TRPs to the occasional complete flops, nonetheless this genre consistently holds a prominent place in the evening lineup, captivating audiences between 7pm and 11pm every day. Noor Jahan has literally taken all those clichés and reworked them, ingeniously recycling familiar formulas and infusing them with clever plot twists and performances that sizzle hotter than Lahore’s roads at high noon in June.

Here’s why I think this drama has become such a success.

A very relatable (and very toxic) mother-in-law

One may expect the people of Pakistan to be consumed by worries about the failing economy, political upheavals, climate change, or decay in educational system, and so on. But the nation’s true obsession is marrying off young women at lightning speed, sometimes even before they’ve outgrown their school uniforms.

The primary lifestyle favours a joint family system where the husband, parents-in-law, sisters and brothers-in-law generally possess the ultimate authority. Women are conditioned to tolerate the hundred shades of negative criticism that they are likely to receive from their in-laws. So, all the Pakistani viewers, especially the female audience, can relate to the leading female character, Noor Jahan, proud mother of three sons and the epitome of the clichéd controlling and cruel Pakistani mother-in-law.

A rich designer running her famous jewellery brand, she fixes the marriages of her two elder sons with girls from humble lower-income backgrounds so that she can control them to her heart’s content. As a proverbial domestic dictator, she runs her mansion like a twisted reality show, forcing her daughters-in-law to scrub and cook while she lounges like a queen and acts as the bedroom police, ensuring the couples stay as far apart as opposing parties in Parliament. Her perfectly miserable kingdom is shaken when she marries off her firecracker niece to her youngest son to take revenge on her brother-in-law, and the project does not go according to her plan.

The titular character of Noor Jahan is brilliantly played by veteran star Saba Hameed, who brings an intensity to her role with a haughty aura, raised eyebrows, and deadly stares. Noor Jahan’s toxicity is highlighted by her trashy treatment of her daughters-in-law, her revenge fantasies, and her hatred for girl children.

However, there is a backstory behind her toxicity that adds nuance to her character. The audience knows that the now formidable matriarch was once a young widow, shunned by her high-society in-laws for her humble roots, who had to single-handedly raise her sons and who transformed from an outcast to an overlord in the process. The popularity of the show lies in presenting the ultimate villainous mother-in-law in a way that makes the female Pakistani audience relate to her current tyranny and former victimhood.

The realistically remarkable daughters-in-law

One of the biggest achievements of the drama is the refined portrayal of Noor Jahan’s daughters-in-law. Each woman emerges as a distinct character, embodying various shades of strength and vulnerability, showing flashes of sass and remarkable courage alongside moments of fear and resilience.

Through the stories of the four bahus, the series masterfully explores the complicated balance between love and self-respect that often askew in desi marriages. Alina Abbas brings to life the character of Safina, the eldest daughter-in-law, whose journey is fraught with challenges. We follow her as she goes through a lonely marriage to Noor Jahan’s eldest son, deals with the devastating loss of a child, and faces harsh criticism from her mother-in-law for giving birth to a girl. What makes Safina stand apart from the regular victimised daughters-in-law on screen is her resilience and gradual self-empowerment.

Hajra Yamin portrays Sumbul, a daughter-in-law whose marriage begins and ends with deception. Coerced by his mother to wed Sumbul, her husband abandons her at a hotel during their forced honeymoon, fleeing to marry his true love instead. The audience watches with fascination as Sumbul tries desperately to please Noor Jahan, faces humiliation, learns to pull herself out of self-pity, and finally frees herself from consistent abuse.

The second wife of her former husband, played by Zoya Nasir, is surer of herself and refuses to be exploited by her mother-in-law. What makes the drama more poignant is that the narrative rises above the regular televised representations of jealousy and animosity between the two wives of one husband. It is refreshing to see the second wife cheering the ultimate success of the first wife and her freedom from a degrading marital relationship.

The strongest daughter-in-law is the niece who has money, wisdom, and class, and still gets manipulated by Noor Jahan into defying her beloved father. Kubra Khan plays this role of Noor Bano with finesse and brings a variety of expressions and emotions to the screen. She plots revenge against Noor Jahan and her discreet smiles of success have been celebrated widely by the viewers.

The success of the drama lies in the daughters-in-laws’ expressive tears of frustration, their failures against the cunning home politics of Noor Jahan, their acts of resistance, and their support for each other. The average Pakistani woman can relate to all stages of depression and setbacks that these four women face in their problematic marriages, and feels uplifted when the women on screen rise above their predicaments.

The ‘unmanly men’ or anti-heroes

Noor Jahan’s best twisting of stereotypes happens through the portrayal of the rich, handsome, and gullible heroes who are in awe of their own manhood and completely oblivious to the manipulations of their mother. The roles of Noor Jahan’s three sons are played by Noor Hassan, Ali Rehman, and Ali Raza. All three have a significant screen history of playing powerful leading roles, but in Noor Jahan they are pushed back in the shadows by the strength of the female characters.

Unlike the heroes in regular television dramas, the heroes in Noor Jahan exist as pawns in the hands of their mother, mostly devoid of any other emotions apart from the excessive love and loyalty they have for her. The drama subverts viewers’ expectations by presenting its male characters as flawed anti-heroes. We see these men enter into marriages, only to dishonour their vows through infidelity and disrespect, all while basking in misplaced pride rooted in their gender. Their characters act as foils to their wives — who are complex, evolving individuals — and their formidable mother.

The men remain largely one-dimensional, trapped in their delusions of societal importance and masculine superiority. Through this deliberate characterisation, the narrative transcends stereotypes, highlighting a society that overwhelmingly favours men while stifling women’s attempts for empowerment.

The housewife vs the career woman

The drama boldly critiques a culture that narrowly defines women’s worth through marriage, challenging viewers to confront these deep-seated inequalities. The toxic mother-in-law has a thriving career as the chief executive of her own jewellery brand but forces her daughters-in-law to take care of the everyday chores of cleaning her mansion and cooking their meals.

A hallmark of the drama is Noor Jahan’s complicated thought process. She recognises the potential of women as she has herself has succeeded alone in a highly patriarchal society. Noor Jahan, with keen insight into her sons’ arrested emotional development, knows their inability to think independently of her influence. And this awareness shapes her strategy for maintaining control over her daughters-in-law.

She deliberately cultivates an environment where these young women feel diminished and tethered to their husbands, unable to assert themselves. Noor Jahan strategically chooses brides from modest backgrounds, often lacking strong family support systems. This calculated decision serves a dual purpose — it ensures the women enter the family with minimal resources to challenge the status quo, and it leaves them particularly vulnerable to domestic abuse, with few avenues for escape or resistance.

Noor Jahan’s manipulative tactics match the ambiguous behaviour of Pakistani society towards women’s careers after marriage. Women in Pakistan are expected to scale the professional world with a demure dupatta on their heads, while being an exemplary 1950s housewife, cooking kormas and serving her primary function as the miraculous glue holding together households riddled with trauma.

The meticulous details

Noor Jahan may not boast the extravagant budgets, lavish sets, or glamorous costumes of high-end productions, but its meticulous attention to detail radiates a visual and emotional richness that captivates viewers. In many significant scenes, we see Noor Jahan ruling her world while rocking on the ornate carved swing in her living room, wearing a malicious smile on her face. The swing symbolises her power, and the camera often zooms out on her to provide a complimenting panoramic view of her mansion.

In a recent climactic moment, Noor Jahan and Noor Bano lock eyes through the tense gap created by the flailing arms of two male leads. In this brief but powerful shot, the audience witnesses a masterclass in silent storytelling. The shifting expressions of these two formidable women manage to capture a spectrum of emotions from confusion and hurt to triumph and defeat.

Many other shots showcase the strength of visual language in conveying the inner turmoil of the female leads, making them stand out as well-rounded individuals.

The costume choices are also powerful in their simplicity. The title stills shows Noor Jahan wearing a massive AI-generated piece of jewellery around her neck that is made up of the photographs of her sons and daughters-in-law, symbolising her urge to keep her family locked in a gilded cage of her choice.

Each frame of Noor Jahan is carefully crafted with subtle nuances that draws audiences deeper into the narrative, proving that compelling storytelling is not reliant on big budgets but on the power of immersive and thoughtful filmmaking. The cast shines in their respective roles in a way that speaks to an overwhelming majority of middle-class women across the country. This drama ends in the second week of September and, as I write these lines, I am reading the comments of Pakistani drama viewers in Facebook groups who are waiting for the appropriate downfall of Noor Jahan’s self-made kingdom and the success of her tormented daughters-in-law.

The fact that the men in the show are brushed off by audiences as little more than dimwitted fools says it all. It is a clever, intentional move by the creators to flip the script on traditional patriarchal stereotypes — giving the spotlight to the women, where the real power, complexity, and intrigue lie. In a world where male characters often dominate, Noor Jahan makes sure they’re just tagging along for the ride.