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Do you remember the last time you saw a stay-at-home dad on Pakistani television, let alone a plot that focused on the struggles of a middle-class man trying to make ends meet, or a Christian character in television truly integrated into the storyline?

Despite dramas being made left, right, and centre, characters who don’t fit the “television-perfect” mould are few and far in between, leaving a massive chasm in our stories, just waiting to be filled.

The vanishing lives of middle-aged women

Relegating the beauty of women aging — finding themselves, discovering their voices, going through ups and downs, experiencing insecurities, and rediscovering sources of happiness — to the background is as much a reflection of our dramas as it is our society.

They are often just shown in the roles of a mother or a mother-in-law, where the height of progressiveness is through them not being evil. But we forget that these living, breathing creatures take on roles beyond being mothers, making choices, having reasoning, and possessing likes and dislikes of their own.

Rare though it is, whenever we see women being shown as more than just mothers or mothers in law it has been a breath of fresh air. Case in point, Rafia in Zindagi Gulzar Hai and Durre Shehwar in the eponymous drama, both roles brilliantly portrayed by Samina Peerzada. While having entirely different plots, both dramas portrayed nuanced mother-daughter dynamics, with each character preserving her individuality yet remaining supportive towards each other amidst all highs and lows that accompany any relationship.

We also saw Danish Nawaz’s Dobara, where Hadiqa Kiani portrayed a widowed middle-aged woman who discovers a part of herself capable of making choices and how can we not mention Vaneeza Ahmad as Sofia Agha in Kuch Ankahi, playing the protagonist’s aunt. In it, she comes with her own share of sorrows, regrets, and a refreshingly optimistic approach to life. This is exactly what we want and deserve to see more of on television, because the stories that need to be told are those of the very people who make up the core of our television audiences.

The missing single parents

Unfortunately, in our dramas characters leading lives that don’t revolve around getting or staying married rarely exist as central figures. Stories of how single parents juggle commitments deserve recognition, and the stories of those reinventing their lives after divorce need to be heard.

A brief departure from this norm was seen in Jafaa, written by Samira Fazal and directed by Danish Nawaz, where Mawra Hocane’s character Zara goes through a divorce and then embraces a new life. Similarly, Hira Mani’s portrayal of a young, pious divorcée in Ibn-e-Hawwa was a step in the right direction, but these instances are far too rare.

The youth are looking elsewhere

It’s no surprise that our youth flock to new Netflix series, eagerly await HBO releases, or find comfort in K-dramas and C-dramas. The audience for Pakistani dramas seems to be slipping away, and why wouldn’t it? They’ve been deprived of seeing their own lives reflected on screen.

One might argue that most Pakistani dramas are about youth, but that’s precisely where the issue lies. The stories are often confined to romance, overlooking the weight of academic pressures, career dilemmas, and the complex balancing act between religion, cultural values, and social expectations. What’s missing is the depth, the rawness, the stories that echo the turbulence of young adulthood.

We need more Ehd-e-Wafa, College Gate, and Sinf-e-Aahan. Perhaps only then can we aspire not only to reconnect with our youth but also to elevate our storytelling. The more we invest in crafting youth-centric dramas, the better equipped we will be to refine them and eventually produce more exceptional dramas like the ones we cherish to this day.

Missing stories from the white in our flag

With cases of religious intolerance on the rise, blasphemy allegations leading to violence, and attacks on religious and ethnic minorities, our dramas remain just as blind, and dare we say, intolerant as the rest of our society can oft be. Whether it’s refugees striving to build new lives, people from different religious backgrounds, or ethnic minorities seeking acceptance, their stories rarely make it to our screens. The white in our flag represents the country’s minorities, yet this promise of inclusion doesn’t translate to the stories we tell.

We hardly see storylines that explore the everyday lives of our minority communities, who should, in fact, be effortlessly woven into different dramas. While Sinf-e-Aahan did introduce us to Syra Yousuf’s Christian character, Arzoo Daniel, such instances of representation remain rare.

Our industry often falls short even of token representation, unlike in western media where the token person of colour (POC) friend has long been a familiar if imperfect trope. In Pakistani dramas, we seldom see even that minimal acknowledgment of diversity. It is about time our dramas reflect the full spectrum of our society in an attempt to bridge divides and celebrate the diversity that makes Pakistan what it is.

The silent gender

Men are, of course, a pivotal part of any Pakistani drama, yet somehow, we’ve hardly seen or heard their stories. Too often, they’re reduced to mere romantic interests where they are either the prize in a love triangle, swooning over a woman, or playing the stereotypical evil husband. But where are the stories that focus on their minds, explore their struggles, and reveal their journeys?

We need more dramas like Parizaad, where a man’s story takes centre stage, embracing not only his ambitions and challenges but also his emotional and vulnerable sides.

While on a surface level it may seem that the audience for these dramas is entirely made up of middle-aged women, considering the lack of diversity in our characters, rest assured that today’s youth and men are equally invested in Netflix series or even K-dramas, so there definitely is an opportunity to create stories for them too.

Maybe it’s time our screens reflect the full spectrum of male experiences, breaking free from one-dimensional portrayals.

Stories from across the seas

Many people that comprise our drama-loving audience do not actually live in Pakistan. These are people who hold onto these stories as a lifeline to their homeland despite being miles away. Yet their stories remain largely untold.

Introducing stories that sensitively represent the push and pull of tradition and modernity and the joy and struggles of finding a home in a foreign land would indeed be a treat to watch.

We’re certain audiences would enjoy a drama where they could see the integration of characters who stay back and those who leave and the emotional interplay of making and breaking of new connections. The currently airing drama Meri Tanhai subtly touches on this theme where the character of Ameema Saleem is depicted suffering the heartbreak of losing the love of her life to a long-distance relationship.

Daldal, directed by Siraj-ul-Haque, on the other hand, gives us a brief but grave overview of the literal representation of the “grass is greener on the other side” and a solemn outlook on life abroad through Zahid Ahmed’s character Shuja, who moves abroad illegally.

Imagine what a treat it would be to see new stories sprouting from these characters, and the various interesting layers that could unravel. With dramas expanding their reach, building stories that promote inclusivity, and giving more people a chance to be heard, there’s so much potential to create something truly impactful.