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Pakistani dramas have seen a drastic shift in their reception since their origin.

Despite the release of innumerable dramas over the years, our parents’ generation continues to reminisce about the impact of Dhoop Kinarey, Dhuwan, and Tanhaniyaan on the landscape of Pakistan television — though I believe most of their longing stems from the nostalgia of their big family squeezing together in a small room with TV for an hour every day. Albeit for a short time, it further underscores the significance of popular culture bringing families — and even strangers together despite all odds.

Blame it on the plight of adulthood for the loss of this tradition over time, or the significant decline in storytelling quality, our dramas certainly lost the interest of a significant portion of the audience over the years. When Humsafar aired in 2011, it was lauded as a renaissance for Pakistani TV. Despite its regressive storyline, with the third-act conflict hinging on showing a woman’s futile attempts to prove her chastity to her insecure, controlling husband, it enthralled the audience like no other.

Next came, Zindagi Gulzar Hai, packaged as a progressive drama with a strong female lead, still anchored to a hypocritical male counterpart. Despite this glaring contradiction, both shows enjoyed massive success in Pakistan and beyond.

The exhaustive run of the alpha male trope

Now, I wouldn’t dare botch down the indelible efforts of our drama makers by claiming they haven’t produced any empowering stories since then.

Shows like Udaari, Sinf-e-Ahan, Yakeen Ka Safar, and most recently, Zard Patton Ka Bunn have demonstrated that our televisions have the space for meaningful content to thrive. Yet, the continued creation and subsequent popularity of stories featuring the classic alpha male trope — violent, controlling men paired with meek, submissive women — can’t be denied.

As much as I would hate to admit it, this dynamic resonated deeply with viewers like Samina Khalid, a 28-year-old house helper, who found comfort in these shows after long workdays. Her fascination for characters like Murtasim from Tere Bin was rooted in the strength they display.

“I don’t like when he’s harsh,” she admitted, “but there’s something powerful about how he stands by his wife, even if he’s controlling. In my world, men don’t share their emotions openly, and maybe that’s why these characters appeal to me. They show love in ways I don’t see around me — even if those ways aren’t perfect.”

Anabiyah Kashif, a 22-year-old student, also found herself drawn to a dominating personality like Murtasim, gushing over the way he treated Meerub and Mir Hadi in Khaani and for the way he carried himself.

Toxic characters as a mirror of society

The alarming glorification of these figures, including Shamsher from Kaisi Teri Khudgarzi, the titular character in Bashar Momin, the leads in Deewangi and Ishq Hai among others, offered an insight into the creators’ assumptions about their audience — and whether you disagree or not, those assumptions aren’t entirely wrong.

This brought the art influences society debate into focus.

When male leads are consistently portrayed as aggressive and hyper-masculine, relying on the powerplay against the female lead to assert their masculinity in shows marketed as romantic, viewers, especially younger and more impressionable ones, internalise this as normal behaviour in real life.

It subverts the notion of healthy relationships, and for those who aren’t exposed to healthier examples, these portrayals could reinforce toxicity as acceptable.

“In my family, men make the rules, so it’s normal to see a man being the one in control. I think that’s why I don’t mind the way male characters are shown,” said Farzana, a 27-year-old seamstress. “But sometimes, it feels like they cross the line.”

Tuba Farooqi, 30, a manager at Pakistan Stock Exchange Limited, couldn’t help but enjoy the portrayal of Murtasim due to his complex personality, all while recognising his poor choices.

“I loved [the portrayal] as it was grey. It was a male-centric drama, and the creators tried their best to make him lovable. The only grey parts were the slap scene and the marital rape scene which was conveniently changed after backlash. But even in those scenes, the female lead character was equally as vocal and aware.”

Blurring the lines between abuse and romance

The appeal of a strong male lead is understandable, yet the distinction lies in the mere principle of display of their power. When a character is shown as dominant, take Dr Ahmer from Dhoop Kinarey as an example, their strength is not defined by their ability to control people around them — or if I were to be more specific, they don’t have to put a gun to their head to coerce the female lead into marrying them.

“Being abusive is not the same as being romantic. I think Pakistani dramas portray men at either of the two extremes. Either they are complete soy boys or evil toxic men. Male leads should be realistic. I don’t know many men around me who are that toxic or who are complete doormats to the women in their lives. Both characterisations of men are equally problematic,” 35-year-old Rimsha* affirmed.

Here’s where it gets tricky: our audience enjoys it — or that’s what Angabeen Shah, head of content at Six Sigma Productions said: “We target TV viewers, especially the lower-middle class, because they need to be educated on these matters. Many have normalised abuse because it’s been a part of their lives for generations. But at the same time, people want to be entertained. Even when we try to change things, audiences often prefer stories with villainous women or manipulative plots.”

Justice for the portrayal of soft, kind men

It would make for a good argument if (and there’s a big if) the less toxic shows were not getting views.

Exhibit A: Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum — Despite its numerous flaws, the drama set a record as the most popular drama of the year. And the reason has extraordinarily baffled me while simultaneously making complete sense.

“After a long time, we have seen a character where a male lead honours his wife and gives her the respect that she deserves. Even though we know he is not perfect, he tries his best to be the best version possible,” said Aeliyah Zaidi, a 25-year-old news sub-editor.

“He is funny, charming, hardworking, and dependable, which is what women usually look for in a man they want for themselves.”

Other underrated softer, more complex male characters also made it to the list. “I like Humayun Saeed’s character in Mere Paas Tum Ho for how he used to treat his wife,” gushed Tara, a house helper.

“Sheheryar [Munawar] in Radd recently played the troubled son so beautifully, it brought tears to anyone who would watch it,” said Priyanka, a 32-year-old public relations specialist from New Delhi.

“I loved Ahmed Ali Akbar’s character in Ye Raha Dil opposite Yumna Zaidi. His character was soft, innocent, and sweet. He was one of the fewer well-written characters in our dramas,” said Farooqi.

These testimonies prove that characters without toxic traits can and are liked by the audience. However, I would understand a creator’s approach to crafting characters that bring with them a sense of excitement and thrill to the viewers. After all, the real issue does not lie in the existence of toxic characters themselves but rather in how their arcs were resolved.

Redemption is only believable in the face of a character’s consistent growth and actions throughout the story — not simply in a singular moment of kindness towards the end. The scope of their actions should be carefully considered as it often ends up blurring the lines between a toxic character and a genuinely flawed but redeemable one.

For 22-year-old Najiba, a psychology student, the line is drawn at the groundless defence of abuse. “In Tere Bin, the marital rape scene from the original story or the ‘angry sex’ bit from the edited version is unforgivable. Showing this on national television gives the impression that it’s okay. Characters like Zaroon in Zindagi Gulzar Hai, are indeed problematic, but the show plays out the lives of two flawed people. Though realistic, I personally wouldn’t wish well for a guy like Zaroon.”

“A lot of our dramas perpetuate a patriarchal mindset where if a woman makes a mistake, she can’t be forgiven, but if a man does it, it’s okay because he ‘didn’t know any better.’ This storytelling flaw makes it seem like women are there to fix men,” said Fatima Zulfiqar, a freelance photographer and researcher.

Real-life impact on young women

In 2023, Zulfiqar contributed to a study published in the Pakistan Journal of Humanities and Social Sciences titled ‘The Glorification of Misogyny and Violence in Pakistani TV Dramas and its Impact on Young Women in Karachi’.

The study surveyed 250 women aged 18 to 35, revealing that 73.9 per cent agreed that combining themes of romance and violence fosters an acceptance of abuse. Participants expressed concerns that this blending of themes distorted viewers’ perceptions of relationships, particularly influencing young women’s understanding of romance and acceptable behaviour.

Dr Sana Yasir, a neuro-encoding coach and relationship expert, explained the intent of these toxic portrayals as an attempt to draw engagement from viewers at the expense of poor storytelling.

“Writers like Khalil-ur-Rehman Qamar often script stories that exhibit cruelty toward women, portraying them in submissive roles that normalise toxic relationships. This trend influences the viewers’ psychology, especially young women who begin to form expectations based on these portrayals,” she said.

Shazia Haseen, a 35-year-old Karachi-based tailor, expressed concern at the consistent portrayal of toxic behaviours, such as that of Shamsher in Kaisi Teri Khudgarzi, who routinely resorted to physical violence towards the female lead.

“I tell my daughters to remember that respect in a marriage goes both ways, but I worry they’ll think otherwise if they see these kinds of men being romanticised on TV,” she said.

Clinical psychologist and relationship therapist Dr Neelam Naz expanded on Shazia’s concerns: “Repeated exposure to controlling and abusive behaviour can lead individuals to perceive such actions as normal. Over time, this normalisation can make people expect similar behaviour in their own lives, fostering a sense of denial about the harm these experiences cause.

“Consequently, individuals may become hypersensitive to criticism and perceived wrongdoings, leading to heightened anxiety. This anxiety often manifests as an overreaction to potential threats, such as fearing that they might experience similar abuse themselves,” she added.

A lens into the industry

Archaic portrayals of masculinity in our shows could also be explained by the scepticism of the industry in changing their ways due to the fear of losing their audiences.

Hence, our dramas are still a concoction of five types of characters, give or take: a bechari (helpless) female lead, her poor parents, a head-strong female antagonist dressed in flashy Western attire, a morally ambiguous “bad boy” who straddles the line between charming and toxic, and an evil mother-in-law.

Sirah Haq, a script consultant, screenwriter and development producer, advocated cultural values influencing the creation of these characters.

“Writers often reflect societal norms in their dramas, whether consciously or not. However, even when writing negative female characters, there needs to be a focus on why they are the way they are — developing empathy and understanding for all characters is crucial. Unfortunately, we don’t always see because there’s often a tendency to keep characters on the surface without delving into their motivations.”

Shah cited her experiences interacting regularly with people to explain why the industry leans towards such extreme portrayals. Her observations about audience preferences and interactions offered insights into the demand for these intense, often dramatic characters, which helps justify why the industry highlights them.

“The educated segment of the audience often appreciates positive content, but when I visit a salon and talk to the women there, 110pc of the time, they’re watching dramas with toxic male characters. They’re drawn to these stories because they mirror the men in their lives — men who are also toxic. These women see their traumas on screen and believe it’s normal.”

Parallels between Pakistan and India

The reality is undeniable and persistent: the portrayal of toxic male characters does engage a certain audience, leading to their popularity and subsequent romanticisation. However, limiting this phenomenon to Pakistani television would be unjust. Dr Naz dated this back to 90s Bollywood films that romanticised the “angry young men.”

She claimed the saviour complex in women could be ascribed to the storylines where if a female lead character tolerates enough abuse, their partner will realise their sacrifices and change.

“However, this belief traps even educated women in abusive relationships, reinforcing the abuser’s control and making it harder for them to leave. It ultimately normalises and perpetuates abuse, which is extremely unhealthy,” Dr Naz added.

Being an avid watcher of both Pakistani and Indian TV, Priyanka highlighted the deep-rooted societal issues presented in these shows as entertainment. “I have seen multiple shows, where male leads are often dominant, controlling and whatnot. It is the same story, sometimes worse on Indian TV. But that’s where psychology comes into play — the gender dynamics. The soft male lead, who is like butter won’t appeal. We want our male leads to dominate the screen and the heroine.

“Sometimes it is kind of romantic, but in some places extremely problematic. This is where the difference between reality and cinema comes in. It often happens on TV shows, here in India — men are toxic, verbally offensive, or forceful towards the women they set their eyes on. Danish [Nawaz’s] dramas remind me of this type. The female lead resists, but ultimately gives in, like Meerab does [when she] falls for the man she is forcefully married to! Control becomes a showcase of dominance and presence — which the male lead has to embody. Problematic yes, but watchable too.”

Dr Yasir described it as a battered wife syndrome or simply, “an attachment to chaotic love.” When viewers are repeatedly exposed to toxic relationships on-screen, they can become familiar and even comfortable with conflict as a part of love.

“This familiarity with chaos leads them to seek out similar dynamics in their relationships, mistakenly equating turmoil with emotional connection,” she explained.

Anything for the mirch masala

Rida Bilal, who has written screenplays for popular dramas like Khudgarz, and most recently, Jaan e Jahan, absolved herself from the responsibility by passing it on to the viewers.

“Fan accounts and actors also play a role. If fans love an actor, they may idolise his toxic character. Unless I’m justifying toxic traits as good, I don’t feel culpable. In Jaan e Jahan, people loved Haris Waheed’s portrayal of Tabraiz. They even created hashtags for him despite his evident manipulation and harassment towards the female character.”

She also attributed the romanticisation of these characters to the audience’s hazy sense of right and wrong, as well as exposed the internal industry pressure on writers to create such roles for the sake of “mirch masala” (spice and drama).

To emphasise her point, the screenwriter narrated an exchange with a popular network when she wanted to do a story about postpartum depression in women. “We make dramas for the masses and masis [house help], this won’t work with them,” the channel told her.

However, it begged the question: with the constant barrage of these same poisonous narratives, can we expect audiences to recognise healthy relationship models? It implies a concerning pattern of conditioning rather than reflecting actual viewer demand, one in which viewers are effectively led to accept flawed depictions rather than complex, realistic personalities.

“In Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum, people are drawn to Mustafa’s character because he’s portrayed as a flawed, relatable human who lashes out under stress — realistic, but still behaviour he should work on. Meanwhile, Sharjeena is an almost perfect ‘Mary Sue’ type,” Werda, a 22-year-old MBBS student, opined.

“She endures her husband’s moods without reaction, manages a 9-5 job, an MBA, and takes care of her biased in-laws. I find this portrayal unfair, as it sends a message that women should always be tolerant and self-sacrificing, while men get the space to be imperfect. In a society where women already bear many expectations to compromise, this double standard feels wrong,” she said.

It’s not on us

In the last few years, dramas featuring toxic male characters have become increasingly frequent. According to Haq, it has more to do with audience expectations influencing channel demands than the writers. Meanwhile, Shah argued the landscape was evolving and dramas ought to get positive feedback even if they do not follow the same, old, and predictable archetype for their characters.

“As a production house, we are mindful about not showing harmful characters or glorifying toxic behaviours. It’s not about ratings anymore. For example, in Noor Jahan, while the story might have seemed cliché, we explored different angles to ensure it resonated with viewers in a meaningful way,” Shah explained.

“If the content is strong, it will make an impact. Changing the narrative takes time because audiences have been programmed for so long to accept certain things.”

…Or is it?

Despite the sound argument, the impact of these portrayals remains indelible within the minds of the young, who often end up moulding expectations based on media representation.

“Audiences — particularly younger viewers — develop expectations about relationships from these shows,” said Dr Yasir. “Behaviours like possessiveness are mistakenly portrayed as love, while sacrifice is equated with true devotion. Such portrayals can lead people to think that a partner’s controlling or jealous behaviour is a sign of deep love, while in reality, these are traits of emotional abuse.”

This is why Bilal tried to “carefully construct scenes to ensure the character’s toxic actions are shown for what they are.”

Giving an insight into her writing process, she explained: “If a character is manipulative, I make it clear he isn’t romanticising that behaviour. This awareness is crucial in today’s social media age, where stories are discussed widely, and I’m conscious of the impact my writing may have.”

“Writers do hold some responsibility for the influence a character asserts, but the larger issue lies in how the entire industry functions,” Haq reiterated.

She said channels often dictate what is produced, often prioritising profit over quality content.

“However, as creators, we do need to recognise the impact these characters have on impressionable minds, and that’s why there needs to be a concerted effort to improve the writing and character development in dramas,” warned Haq.

Pick me, choose me, love me

The extreme opposite of a toxic male character is an equally helpless, naïve, goody-two-shoes female lead, who at best, enables her love interest’s toxicity or at worst, falls victim to it.

The victim mentality of a woman being at the mercy of a man has been perpetuated since the advent of fan-favourite Humsafar.

“Pakistani dramas are so, so regressive in that respect. Tere Bin, Yakeen Ka Safar — these two women just face the ultimate wrath of society — what is their honour, what is their limit, what they should or shouldn’t do,” Priyanka expressed her frustration.

“That part of the dramas annoys me as hell and I cannot figure out why they show this. Again, relating to the above, there is a set audience that would romanticise the union, the whole dominant man submissive woman saga. The female lead must often be redeemed by the male lead.”

Zulfiqar noticed a similar pattern in our storytelling where the repercussions for female villains are shown worse than for male villains. Male villains often get a redemption arc, while there is no forgiveness for female villains.

“This reflects a storytelling flaw and a lack of creativity on the writers’ part,” she said.

“We have never had a concept of an empowered woman,” Farooqi asserted. “In the dramas that I have watched, I have never watched a heroine being portrayed in a human way that she makes a mistake. She is either a vill-vamp or sati sawatri [paragon of virtue]. The vamp characters almost always get the same ending; either kill herself or go mad.”

Dr Naz explained how this portrayal deeply impacted how women view themselves in real life, despite being very different from what is shown on TV. It could also be ascribed to our natural desire for acceptance that leads many to conform to societal moulds instead of embracing their true selves, creating inner conflict.

“Sadly, media perpetuates the notion that a woman is only attractive when she’s vulnerable, with a man’s role defined solely as her protector. This dynamic fuels a constructed male ego, leaving men with the emotional burden of caretaking and sometimes leading to their own breakdowns,” she added.

Bring back toxic men!!!

Interestingly, Rimsha* does not agree that the issue exists, and her worries lie elsewhere. “I think female leads are shown as strong women with good character arcs. I’m more concerned about how young men must feel, constantly shown as either villains or fools. It’s frustrating. I started watching Kuch Ankahee with Sajal Aly and Bilal Abbas, and every male character, from the girl’s father to the maid’s husband, was either a failure or abusive. Even the male lead was a mumbling fool.”

“It feels like post-feminism dramas are all about making girls feel empowered, while the boys watching are left feeling belittled. I recently watched Man Jogi, and it was hard to watch. It felt like I was watching the dream of an extreme feminist.”

This difference of opinion is not unhealthy, however, it offers a lens into the cultural values of our society that are deeply entrenched in patriarchy. It also stemmed from the traditional expectations our society has from men and women at large. We find it either too fantastical or hard to believe when the male character is not coercing the female lead in some way.

The conditioning also sees female characters as those directly responsible for the actions of these men, and they must comply with his every whim to avoid him acting on his worst instincts.

Because of this Bilal also believed that women are more prone to choosing their life partners who fit the traits of their favourite hero on TV — and it may not always be the best one.

“Characters like Mustafa, who may not be financially successful but is kind and respectful, often get ‘friend-zoned’ because toxic traits are glorified instead,” added the writer. “Media can shape what is seen as desirable or romantic.”

Dr Yasir decoded the underlying message of these dramas as being rooted in our society rather than a mirror of our religious values. “[They] try to assert that a woman’s worth lies in her sacrifice, while a man’s harsh behaviour is often excused or even celebrated,” she said.

Hope for change

Despite the prevalence of such narratives during prime-time slots, Shah reassured me that behind-the-scenes efforts in the industry are aimed at changing this trend, giving credit to those responsible for shaping these narratives in the first place.

“[Director] Nadeem Baig and I frequently discuss how to change narratives, like addressing the issue of cousin marriages or showing healthy relationships. We are trying to bring about small changes, little by little. Even actors and actresses push back if they feel their characters are being written in a problematic way, and that helps too,” she shared.

However, she agreed that the path is ought not to be easy, and luckily, she was not expecting it. “Our country struggles with a lot of depression, and people need entertainment, not constant lessons. When we try to teach too much, audiences get bored. If we show something dark or heavy, they don’t engage with it. So, we are trying to strike a balance,” added Shah.

So over the alpha syndrome

While writing this article, I came to the realisation that industry insiders significantly undermine the comprehension abilities of the audience. They believe that viewers aren’t ready for more complex media, citing their desire for entertainment as a reason. Yet, every woman I spoke to voiced a need for better storylines than those dominating primetime slots today.

Asma, a 38-year-old tailor and mother of four, highlighted her preference for watching real-life issues on screen. “They think we just want to watch silly dramas with people yelling and fighting, but that’s not true. I’d rather see something real — why can’t they make stories that show respect and real life instead of all this nonsense?” she wondered.

“I think everyone, especially women, would prefer to see male leads that give women their due respect. I don’t think anybody enjoys watching toxic male leads, except for some men since they are seen as alpha with dominating and controlling tendencies,” shared Zaidi.

Priyanka offered a blueprint for writers to follow when it comes to crafting male characters. “Salar from Radd, Salman from Kuch Ankahee, Saad from Ehd-e-Wafa, Basim from Ishq Jalebi, Hamza from Mere Humsafar, Sarmad from Hum Tum, are the green flags kind from a fundamental’s standpoint,” she said.

“You have seen shades of amber in places where they are quite problematic — in terms of choices and wants; but they are respectful, kind, considerate and nontoxic.”

( * Name changed to maintain anonymity.)