

Meerasim. Thank you, now I have an audience. The Pakistani drama Tere Bin has been going viral, garnering millions of views – no, record-breaking views – within an hour of being aired – for all the wrong reasons! Read with caution.

Having grown up in the 90s, we heard our parents talking about the brilliant dramas produced by our people, with strong characters, solid storylines that challenged the taboos of those times, meaningful narratives, plain settings, and excellent OSTs. One comparable drama that nearly harnessed equal fame was Humsafar, starring Mahira Khan, and Fawad Khan in the lead. I was in my early 20s, and I was as smitten by it, as the young Pakistani masses are by Tere Bin, right now. In hindsight, though, I realize there were major issues with it, too. As the elders said, ‘roads par traffic nahe hoti thi 8pm par’. Shocking! Social descent is the word.
Fast forward to 2023, 11 years later, we hit a new low. Tere Bin has not only become popular in Pakistan, but is trending top in the neighbouring counterpart, India, despite copyright issues. I will not review the drama, I’d like to highlight the issues I have with it, under the lens of ‘is this responsible?’.
With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility
Visual media is an integral part of social fabric. It leaves an immense impact on the audience – it can change mindsets, it can influence opinions, it can create an emotional connection. It holds the power of gaining the audiences who want to invest in media consumption. With this power comes great responsibility.

I realize that two decades ago, the television industry was churning actors, directors, and writers, who happened to be artists. Pakistan has never had any educational institute or other training ground to enable creative sensibilities. And despite that, our dramas were forward-thinking, leaving us with a treasure trove to hold dear. Today, when we can boast such literate and cultured actors, can highlight social disorders with more outreach and better technology, why are we producing mediocrity?
The Fame Is Troubling
I understand how life-changing one drama can be for an actor, director, writer, and other BTS leads. Many struggles for years, before they get a breakthrough. Many lose hope and exit the industry to do something commercially viable. Of course, the industry is there to make business, and it is all about the numbers.

Fine, well-groomed actors like Yumna Zaidi, and Wahaj Ali are few and far between. They are a rarity to come by – they are good looking, who know their craft well, and who bring a good body of work with themselves. I wonder what made them choose this script. Read commercial viability again. We wish they would do more responsible roles, as they have done in the past. They shoulder the responsibility of shaping the future mindsets of our generation – that is already fighting for gender equity and empowerment, and against patriarchy and social wildfires (love obsession, physical abuse, suicide, self-harm, gun violence, etc.)
Honestly, this kind of fame is troubling – socially, morally, communally. The difference between being famous and great begins with making good choices. I’d like to see them both focusing more on impact. Because the more positive impact you create, the more successful you’ll become. This is the metric that matters.
The State Of The Industry Is Like The State Itself – Clueless And Deteriorating
Cracking the plotline, from the beginning, Meerab is shown as a vocal, articulate, bold girl who knows right from wrong. Yet we see her as a damsel in distress – a done to dusted, intolerable character written poorly. And frankly we need not teach these lessons to the lot of girls who are watching this as ‘entertainment’.

The recent episode showing Meerab making an attempt to jump off the terrace to prove one’s point/loyalty is NOT a lesson we need to teach the girls. Why must we show this to the masses who are already fighting a toxic, patriarchal culture?
With Haya’s character attempting to cut her wrist for not being able to marry whom she wanted is troubling.
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