Dastak — A Window Into Divorce In Pakistan

 

Pakistani dramas are Pakistan’s largest entertainment medium. This is Pakistan’s greatest entertainment export, as Pakistani dramas are now viewed across borders and even across continents. And while our content tends to be painted with the broad stroke of “saas bahu stories,” there are many stories with depth. Recently, “Tan Man Neel O Neel” grabbed eyeballs with its unexpected, shocking tale of mob violence and how herd-think can destroy lives. While dramas like “Tan Man Neel O Neel” are every-so-often-gems, there are other writers and directors out there striving to tell different stories — case in point, “Dastak.”

“Dastak” follows Saif (Feroz Kadri) and Kiran (Sohai Ali Abro), a couple thrown together through the arranged marriage process. While Kiran enters the marriage with a positive outlook, Saif has been (quite literally) forced into the union, betraying the love of his life in the process. On the outlook, “Dastak” is a typical story of a woman being mistreated by her husband, a woman forced to endure grief from her spouse while he continues to maintain romantic relationships outside the marriage. But as the story begins to undwind, the audience can see the layers unfolding of this incredibly real, human story. 

How many marriages in Pakistan are arranged? Do we do enough research as a society before trusting a man to take our daughters into their lives and provide them with happiness? Is it enough to simply look at “good families”? In “Dastak,” we see that while Saif is aggressive with Kiran, he’s also a man with his own hang-ups, a man who was in an emotionally committed relationship for years, before being pushed into a marriage against his will by his manipulative parents. His parents had their own reasons for rejecting the marriage and have been nothing but supportive and loving towards Kiran, their daughter-in-law. But as Kiran rightly states — does a woman get married to earn the love of her mother-in-law? Isn’t it every woman’s right to be loved and respected within a marriage? Shouldn’t basic kindness be part of the package? 

As Saif plans his marriage to Fariyal (Momina Iqbal), Kiran plans for divorce — an option Saif does not agree to. Why? Because Pakistani society promotes this idea that divorce should be avoided at all costs. Divorce is not good for children — but is it great for a child to see his neglected, heartbroken mother while his father spends time with a different family? 

Ultimately, “Dastak” is the story of divorce, of how Pakistani society sees divorce and how that attitude is used to control women and chain them to toxic husbands — particularly when they have children. Kiran is a representation of so many women, women who are threatened with losing their children, woman who are taunted with divorce if they protest, women persuaded by their families to compromise. But do these women not deserve happiness and a promising future of their own? Why are these shackles reserved only for women in Pakistani society? Does having a child mean the end of the road for a woman while a man can build a new future?

The performances here are excellent, particularly Sohai Ali Abro’s, who has become this innocent, sweet character who stands tall and defiant on behalf of her child. Kiran is willing to take neglect for herself, but not for her child and it’s in these moments of anger and emotional breakdowns where Sohai shines. Feroz Kadri is also a stand-out performer as Saif, a man torn between his responsibility and love. Saif could be an out-and-out villain, but he isn’t. He’s a character who is struggling with himself. Is he a good man? He doesn’t consider himself a bad man. He just wants to be free to love who he wants — but now saddled with a wife and child, he tries to justify his actions by not divorcing Kiran……though this action is also riddled with selfishness, a need for a caregiver for his mother. 

There’s a silver lining to this story in the form of Ali Raza’s Moiz, a young man who was in love with Kiran in college. The overall pretext of “Dastak” appears to be optimistic, promoting the possibility of second chances at love and positive co-parenting relationships. We can only hope we can see Kiran’s life move towards happiness — but for now, “Dastak” is a realistic, almost upsettingly so, take on the perception of divorce in Pakistan. Can a show like this be a teaching moment? 

Tan Man Neel O Neel: A Shocking Twist Drives Home an Important Message

Back in 2009, audiences around Pakistan found themselves pulled into the love story of Bano & Hassan, their families, small personality quirks, their hopes, dreams and differences.  Halfway through the show, that same audience had the rug pulled out beneath their feet when Bano & Hassan's families were struck by immense tragedy - and reality.  The show was "Dastaan" and that show was the last time I cried profusely over fictional characters and went into mourning for weeks.  Until today.  

"Tan Man Neel O Neel" introduced audiences to Rabi (Sehar Khan) and Sonu (Shuja Asad), two innocent, naive dreamers with a drive to create a name for themselves.  We met their families, including their beautiful mothers, Rabi's father and uncle and Kami (Usman Javed), Rabi's controlling, manipulative cousin - who also dreams of being her husband.  

Through Rabi and Sonu's young romance, the past relationship between Ehsaan (Nauman Masood) and Farah (Samiya Mumtaz) is revealed along with the reality behind the death of Sonu's father, Mehnaz (Nadia Afgan) grapples between doing right by a good woman and doing right by her husband while Moon (Ali Ammar) struggles to find his spirit and fight back after being a victim of assault.  

There are so many wonderful stories being told in "Tan Man Neel O Neel," stories which are deemed taboo, stories which aren't openly spoken about and yet happen all the time in these small towns.  While this show has a light-hearted facade, once we look beyond it, the canvas is dark in a world where the actions of one person can affect many lives.  After "Mann Jogi" and "Nadaan," I recorded a video stating I almost hoped for a more tragic end in the final segment of Sultana Siddiqui's mob trilogy - because in reality, can anyone escape a mob?  The outcome is almost always death.  But despite mentally preparing myself, the finale left me in shock.  

In the finale, Rabi, Sonu and Moon look towards the future, business partners in a brand-new business, invested in their first event when tragedy strikes in the form of Kami with a bruised ego.  Throwing false allegations of blasphemy on Sonu, the trio find themselves being hounded by a mob.  And once a mob zones in, is there any escaping it?  Caught in the crossfire is Ehsaan, a man who has lived as a coward all his life, but stands tall to defend his daughter and Sonu against an angry mob - and loses his life in the process.  Is this retribution for all the pain he caused?  Taaya (Tanveer Hussain) steps in to save Rabi, defending the young woman he raised as a daughter from a mob set on her by his own son - and loses his life as well.  In "Nadaan," we saw Kashif Hussain's character cower when forced to face a mob of his own creation.  This time around, Kami sees his own father murdered before his eyes, murdered by a mob of his creation, helpless to put a stop to it.  

At the end, the trio is on their own - was it by choice?  Did the three make a conscious decision to separate in the hopes that at least one would be able to shake off this mob?  Or was this a conscious choice to show that these three lives had their own individual stories and, in the end, we are all alone in death?  We can't be certain, but what's certain is the fear one goes through in such a situation, a situation that no one would ever want to find themselves on the receiving end of.  And yet, Mustafa Afridi and Saife Hassan drive another stake through our hearts, showing visuals of the real-life victims of such lynchings like Mashal Khan and Priyantha Kumara Diyawandana as Sonu, Rabi and Moon fall prey to their own on-screen mob.  

It's those final shots which leave the viewer almost shell-shocked with Mustafa Afridi himself, once the animated MC, weeping on the streets and Laddu crying in an abandoned tent with Ehsaan's lifeless body in his lap.  

It's the bleakness of reality which hits the hardest.  Who were Sonu, Rabi and Moon?  Three individuals with their own emotional baggage, hopes and dreams for a better future.  While moving forward towards accomplishing those goals, suddenly, in an instant, those dreams are shattered.  Isn't this reality?  Isn't this how mobs play out in real life?  Does a bloodthirsty, riled-up mob care about the ambitions of their victim or who is waiting for them at home?  

It's difficult to discuss or dissect performances, because each and every performance deserves a shout-out.  Sehar Khan's performance as Rabi has gone beyond a performance - she became that character, one we grew to love before her dreams were snatched away.  There's no looking back for Sehar Khan as a performer.  Shuja Asad as Sonu, an innocent soul, gives the most earnest performance of his career, that innocence radiating from his every movement.  Shuja Asad has a bright future ahead!  Ali Ammar as Moon has been a revelation, along with Usman Javed as Kami.  Nadia Afgan, Nauman Masood, Tanveer Hussain, Saleem Mairaj, are all outstanding in their roles. But the true heroes of "Tan Man Neel O Neel" are writer Mustafa Afridi, director Saife Hassan and producer Sultana Siddiqui for making the incredibly brave choice to create this story for Pakistani television.  Thank you for such a thought-provoking piece of art.  But where do we go from here?  What do we take away from this story?  How does it stop?  When does mob violence stop?