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This week, drama Meem Se Mohabbat aired its 18th episode, yet it seems far from reaching its conclusion — unless, of course, the writer chooses to wrap it up hastily in the final five minutes. Unfortunately, this has become the norm lately; stretching shows as much as possible, keeping audiences hanging in anticipation of pivotal moments, only to leave them wanting more.

Meem Se Mohabbat is yet another example of this trend. Written by Farhat Ishtiaq and directed by Ali Hassan, the drama follows the lives of Ayat Suleman (Roshi), played by Dananeer Mobeen, and Talha Ahmed, portrayed by Ahad Raza Mir. The characters are polar opposites, and we find ourselves dropped into their overly dramatic and chaotic interactions. With unnecessary side characters, exaggerated performances, and a rather cliché storyline, the drama offers nothing fresh or memorable — ultimately fading into the realm of forgettable content.

The only redeeming aspects are the performances of the Mirs (Asif Raza Mir plays Ahad’s father in the series) and Naveen Naqvi. The real to reel father-son duo, along with Naqvi’s graceful presence, are the only elements that give any depth to an otherwise merely passable show.

Meem Se Mohabbat encapsulates everything that is wrong with contemporary Pakistani dramas. It highlights the Pakistani drama industry’s decline, characterised by predictable, overused characters, dragged out story lines, and cringe-worthy performances. The inclusion of a “modern” female antagonist, frequently dressed in Western attire, is a tired trope.

In one of the recent episodes, both the female protagonist and the antagonist chase after the male lead, completely disregarding their self-respect. The only good thing about that scene was Mobeen’s hair colour — and, of course, the fact that it ended.

The responsibility for the repetitive portrayal of the young, energetic character — whether it lies with the performer or the director — can be difficult to pinpoint. Mobeen’s portrayal of Roshi is too exaggerated to digest. She appears to be intentionally off-balance whenever she approaches Talha, and it seems as though she has a different expression and body language for every second spent in front of the camera. It is disappointing to see this performance from her, especially given she delivered such a strong performance in a somewhat similar role in Mohabbat Gumshuda Meri.

As for the hero, he is no different when it comes to stereotypes. A wealthy man single-handedly managing his father’s business at a young age, he is portrayed as both humble and principled. Despite his powerful position, he remains grounded and sensible. We find him pining for the innocent and bubbly girl, but refuses to give in to his whimsies due to the significant age gap.

While Talha is shown to be well-established in his career, Roshi seems to be fresh out of college, interning at his firm. It is a rare, refreshing take in a sea of problematic portrayals, particularly given the current trend of older men romancing younger women, which often feels both awkward and laughable. Since Talha and Roshi are the main leads and will ultimately be portrayed as a couple, it is commendable that the issue of a significant age gap crossed his mind.

There is one scene in particular that deserves mention. Note that it has not been aired yet. Yes, that one — the long-awaited confrontation between Talha and Roshi on the beach, teased in last week’s promotional clips. Viewers were led to believe it would feature in the current week’s episodes, but it was nowhere to be found. Are you wondering why? Most likely because the scenes have been unnecessarily stretched to fill more episodes. Alternatively, did the TV channel air the wrong teasers? Only the channel can clarify, but given the trend, the former seems more plausible.

It is safe to say that the days of quality content — stories told with precision, thoughtfully crafted characters, meaningful dialogue, crisp dialogue delivery and skilled actors — are far behind us. Now, we are inundated with poorly edited shows, irrelevant side characters stealing screen time, cringe-worthy humour, and overzealous “bubbly” female leads.

Today’s industry seems more focused on chasing TRPs and prolonging shows that are begging to end, rather than delivering a cohesive, engaging narrative. Need proof? Just take a look at the comment section of Jafaa on YouTube; a perfect example of a compelling story that could have gone down in history as a cult classic, ruined to increase the episode count.