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What is it about award shows that makes us pause our doomscrolling? Why are we so enamoured by the perfection of a celebrity posing on the red carpet? And why do some spend hundreds of dollars just to stand close enough to touch but never quite close enough to know a celebrity? These were some of the thoughts running through my mind while people-watching between interviews on the HUM Awards red carpet in Houston Saturday night.

This was my second time covering the event. The first was in 2019, when I was very pregnant and the world was just months away from shutting down because of a global pandemic. The difference half a decade makes is incredible.

​​This year, the show was completely sold out (even my eyebrow-threading aunty, a diehard HUM TV superfan, couldn’t get a ticket) and the star power had multiplied with industry veterans rubbing shoulders with TikTok-literate Gen Z darlings who’ve made Pakistani dramas cool again.

But after two days of covering celebrities and production staff, I came away realising that the real winners of award shows aren’t the ones clutching trophies. They’re the hundreds of people who fly halfway across the world to put on a show for 10,000 diaspora Pakistanis hungry for connection to their country and culture.

In between photographing celebrities, I had quick but revealing conversations with the people who make the magic happen. There was the set designer who creates luxury homes and injects old city charm on drama sets. During dress rehearsals, she guessed I was a journalist because I had a “serious face,” a laptop and a utility jacket. There was the costume designer whose job it was to dress all the celebrities who’d be performing as well as hundreds of backup dancers (the design team was armed with steamers and sewing machines backstage). There was the choreographer, who I watched run a 12-hour rehearsal the night before, and found in the bathroom on the day of the show perfecting a cat eye in minutes.

Award shows are meant to celebrate recognition, but what being backstage and at the dress rehearsal really revealed for me was the invisible labour it takes to create one night of glamour. By the time a celebrity steps onto the red carpet, everything looks effortless. But there are people who have spent almost a year beforehand building out the illusion of effortlessness.

Then there were the fleeting moments with the stars themselves. The worst thing that can happen to those of us tasked with covering the show is a celebrity skipping the carpet entirely. Others rush through, eager to get inside. And then there are those who are generous with their time. Who linger and engage with every last reporter and selfie request from fans.

Red carpet coverage moves fast. It’s loud and it’s high-energy (hours later, as I write this, I’m still recovering from sensory overload). But in the chaos is where you catch a glimpse of the true nature of the people who we see daily on our small and silver screens.

For instance, Mahira Khan and Mehwish Hayat remain the most effortlessly gracious and warm stars when dealing with everyone from press to backup dancers to hundreds of emotionally strung-out fans. Dananeer Mobeen, Ramsha Khan, and Shuja Asad have the most infectious presence. They’re thrilled to be there, and it shows. Ahad Raza Mir carries a quiet reservedness but his responses never miss the mark, while Humayun Saeed and Imran Ashraf are the rare type of stars who’ll come find you if they’ve promised you an interview. Meanwhile, as the press pod learned the hard way this year, Bilal Abbas doesn’t do interviews, and some stars (Sajal Aly and Durefishan Saleem) managed to pull off a vanishing act by skipping the red carpet entirely and somehow avoiding press backstage.

Just like any job, it’s not all pretty pictures and sidling up to celebrities.

This year, we shot dozens of images and videos every hour for nearly six hours straight, with my husband carrying 30 pounds of equipment and then us racing to send content to the editorial team before the moment fades from the internet’s collective attention span. Because if you didn’t see it right away, did it really happen?

Cover image via HUM TV/Instagram