Transcending boundaries, breaking stereotypes

This is perhaps not the first time that television content from Pakistan has been welcomed with open arms in Indian living rooms. Indians growing up in the 80s would find it difficult to not recall the fondness with which they consumed Dhoop Kinarey (1987), arguably one of the best known Pakistani television series in India. In the decade of the 90s, Tanha (1997-99)—a collaborative project between the television industries of the two countries—made waves on the small screen, particularly remembered for its soulful title track rendered by the legendary Late Jagjit Singh. During the satellite revolution in South Asia, Indians routinely switched on their television sets to receive PTV on their ubiquitous cable TV networks. Although one could argue that the impact of television content from Pakistan is restricted to north India due to linguistic affinity, the warmth generated by any programming from across the border is unmistakable. The recent foray of Zee Network into the collaborative minefield could be described as nothing short of revolutionary. Their entertainment channel—Zindagi – Jodey Dilon Ko—marks the beginning of a tantalizing new prospect primarily in terms of the possibility of cultural exchanges between the (sadly) territorial rivals. Notwithstanding its utility as a tool for Track II diplomacy, beaming of syndicated content from Pakistan could be regarded as a huge opportunity for the permanent destruction of stereotypes about the “other”. It would not come as a surprise if the evident cultural similarity between the people of the two countries shocks a few quarters in India. After all, structures and institutions in India, including the system of education, media, and socialization mainly of the coming generations, have done more harm than good to the process, if any existed in the first place, of breaking established stereotypes and engendering common cause with the neighbor. Pakistan has not done any better either. Cricket and cinema have, however, remained the most enduring bridges between the sparring neighbours—a pity considering the enormous potential the countries would accrue if their creative energies are channelized in the right direction. The prospect of reversing the negative stereotypes that pervade the psyche of common Indians with regard to common Pakistanis, now that Zindagi is up and running, is mammoth. First, the programme content remains head and shoulders above the average Indian daily soaps with regard to scope of the narrative, coverage, social issues understood and addressed, and most importantly location of the subject matter in relatable milieu. The daily viewer is not subjected to jarring displays of restrictive and exclusivist opulence, the stories and characters coming across as common men and women with very typical and very similar problems to deal with. Second, the television content provides a glimpse of the upwardly mobile, aspirational Pakistan, faced with the seemingly insurmountable issue of a gaping class divide. Viewers in India have been quick to latch on to the lovely relationship between a lower-middle class young woman, Kashaf Murtaza, and a wealthy young man, Zaroon Junaid, erstwhile rivals in college, in Zindagi Gulzar Hai, the flagship show along with Aunn-Zaara on the channel. Subsequent programming, even if akin to certain Indian soaps of the past have been bringing alive elements of the Pakistani society which find resonance in the Indian half of the subcontinent. Consider for instance the excellent show Kaash Main Teri Beti Na Hoti which portrays a beautiful young woman born to excruciatingly poor parents who trade her womb for money, marrying her off to a disgruntled yet filthy rich young man. Even though the narrative is reminiscent of Agle Janam Mohe Bitiya Na Kijo, such clarity of concept has rarely been in evidence in Indian television entertainment programming. Well mounted and performed, the show lends itself to comparison with its counterpart, Kitni Girhain Baaki Hain, an ode to the travails of women in Pakistan with significance across South Asia. Haven’t we heard of lustful employers dishonouring virginal women forced to work as maids or libidinous relatives devouring female family members? How familiar is the story of young lovers parting because of social constraints to descend into degenerate lives? Kitni Girhain… brings alive lived experience; a welcome change from saas-bahu sagas, it is a series of short films strung together. The programme is different from crime shows such as Savdhan India and Crime Patrol in that it does not restrict itself simply to crime against women, but explores the socialization propelling the misdemeanor. To view the characters as part of our society and milieu with undeniably identical life stories would not be misplaced. For the Indian woman, therefore, the Pakistani girl facing torment from the society for being a tomboy and having a mind of her own reflects a disconcertingly similar reality. Most Indians might be discovering these similarities for the first time, particularly true of the next-gen viewer unmindfully numb and comfortably unaware of the shared history between the countries of the subcontinent. While television viewers with roots in present-day Pakistan would feel affinity with the cultural ethos of the characters depicted in the programming, largely in terms of the Punjabi ambiance of most of the serialized stories on air at present, a young viewer devoid of any feeling of kinship and fed on propagandist as well as true accounts of Islamic radicals and terrorists emanating from Pakistan would most definitely be surprised to discover a number of new facts about the demonized neighbor. Some of those facts might be with regard to clothing and attire, especially of Pakistani women. A section of Indians would be quite shocked to realize that all Pakistani women are not clad in black burqas; in fact the almost complete absence of burqas and hijabs from the landscape of the programming in question would have come as an eye-opener for a few. Although it is true that these television programmes do not depict the Pakistani society it its entirety and are reflective of only the aspirations of a wealthy, upper middle class setting, they provide an indication to the transformations taking place in Pakistani society even as the old order refuses to die down. For generations of Indians force-fed on the fearsome imagery of rabid mullahs running amok in the neighbouring country, controlling the day-to-day lives of people, the images beamed on Zindagi are a revelation. Yes, large swathes of the country are being taken over by the hyper-radicalized and Talibanized zealots and their brand of Islam, but the aspirations of the English-speaking, liberal Pakistani are not very different from counterparts in India. What programming on Zindagi does best is take this liberal, sophisticated Pakistani into the living spaces of similarly liberal, educated and sophisticated Indians bridging the perceptual gap and breaking stereotypes. If bridges are to be built and an atmosphere of trust created, the doing away of stereotypes would be a positive beginning.