uch has been written on this subject and will continue to be written, until the media stops glorifying and celebrating people who continue to suffer and endure abuse in their relationships. Abuse is a extremely broad term. It encompasses verbal, physical, mental, psychological and financial maltreatment.

Case No 9, a play that recently aired on GEO, was a laudable attempt by the writer, Shahzeb Khanzada, to shatter stereotypes by portraying strong female leads, unafraid to stand up for what they believed in, even if it meant sacrificing their marriages. This bold endeavour was a huge commercial hit also and emerged as a trailblazer in the television industry.

For a change, the drama did not glorify abuse. It accurately portrayed the kind of invasive and humiliating questions that rape survivors are frequently subjected to. The huge success of this production has paved the way for more bold and strong scripts. Case No 9 not only received critical acclaim, it also set the cash registers ringing.

A certain sense of ennui has set in amongst the masses. While there are still takers for run-of-the-mill stereotypical television productions, the winds of change can be felt. This is largely due to the availability and accessibility of OTT platforms, where content from all over the world is being screened 24/7. Maybe people are beginning to tire of seeing weak women, a regular fixture of television productions aired before prime time and are craving for something different.

Viewers’ tastes have clearly matured over time. The audience today is quite fickle. Spoilt for choice, they shift loyalties at the drop of a hat.

Misery loves company, so stereotypical productions with one-dimensional characters will always find takers. The plays aired before the prime time slot, such as Meri Bahuain continue to perpetuate and propagate violence by demonising and belittling women.

With one-dimensional characters and hackneyed scripts, the women portrayed are either holier than thou with not an evil bone in their bodies, like Khirad in Humsafar, or complete fiends like her mother-in-law in the same play. Most of us lie somewhere on the spectrum but of course; painting stereotypical characters is far simpler than penning complex and layered characters. In addition, viewers who thrive on the typical fare aired before the prime-time slot are generally big on the soppy and regurgitated scripts churned out with amazing regularity.

The viewers of these B-grade productions seem to thrive on the melodrama and the excessive sentimentality. Their favourite look decidedly mawkish. As the misery multiplies, so does the rating. This makes it a win-win situation, Meri Bahuain being a classic example. Viewers seem to derive some sort of sadistic pleasure out of watching women being harassed, abused and maltreated. Women suffering silently and compromising endlessly in the hope that eventually the tide will turn, set the TRPs ablaze. This tried and tested formula works like a charm. For example, watch Kafeel airing nowadays on HUM.

Why does such a formula always hit the bull’s eye? Why do people enjoy other people’s misery? Quite simply, many women identify with the sobbing, ill-fated and miserable women portrayed so often on screen. They see themselves in them. The idea that they are not alone and that this is the story of every other household is apparently reassuring.

A case in point is Zeba in Kafeel, stuck in a toxic relationship with a loafer who delights in sponging off his wife and in-laws, despite claims of being raees and khandaani. After all, there are scores of women stuck in toxic relationships who are repeatedly told to keep on enduring and tolerating the abuse and the misery. They are told that, at some point in distant future, this pain and suffering will prove to be their redemption.

The logic given is that God sides with those who endure misery, toxicity and pain and will definitely reward them, if not in this world, definitely in the hereafter. Religion is thus used as an excuse to justify their agony. Examples are recalled of women who endured all kinds of abuse and eventually emerged victorious (the righteous white-dupatta wielding Khirad in Humsafar). By victorious, they mean that they earned a place for themselves in heaven by enduring hell on earth. The misery suffered in this life is apparently directly proportional to the rewards earned in the life hereafter and vice versa.

Isn’t that twisted logic, though? Definitely sounds like it. However, it is a surefire way to induce some women to accept their lot in life. Good, pious and virtuous women will go straight to heaven. The ones who demur will be destined to eternal damnation and will rot in the fires of hell. Zeba in Kafeel will fit the definition of a good woman. Those who refuse to conform or strong women, like those portrayed in plays like Case No 9, willing to put their marriages at stake, will obviously not fall in the category.

Hell and heaven are relative, though. After all, one man’s meat is another man’s poison. The concept of heaven and hell also varies but the promise of paradise should not be used to justify abuse and suffering. Most of us have our own interpretation of religion and follow it. We tend to pick and choose what suits us and lends credibility to our arguments.

How long will this continue? As long as the glorification of abuse and victimisation sets the TRPs ablaze and rakes in the moolah, women will continue to be blackmailed in the name of religion and enticed with the promise of eternal salvation in the life hereafter. Many viewers will keep falling for it.

The writer is an educationist. She can be reached at [email protected].