On November 14 (9th Muharram), Hum TV had an unusual broadcast: a teleplay about a family that had lost two men in a bomb blast on an Ashura procession last year. The family was torn between staying home and participating in the ritual again this year.

Following the deadly attack on the Ashura procession in 2009 in Karachi and in the wake of general sectarian unrest, many families must have been debating along these lines. Should one maintain a low profile and try to stay safe or continue to practice one’s traditions?

While newspapers and television programmes discuss the ‘security situation’ during Muharram, this was the first time one saw in popular culture the portrayal of the aftermath of sectarian violence. Safeer-i-Ishq marked a departure from the usual repertoire of marsiyas, nohas and historical documentaries that are Muharram staples on television.

Safeer-i-Ishq centers around Salman (Humayun Saeed in a heart-felt performance), who is a doctor who used to set up a medical camp every year during Ashura along with his father and his brother Faizan.

He intends to do the same this year even though his brother and father were killed in the previous year’s attack. The rest of the family, his mother (Zaheen Tahira), wife Natasha (Kaif Ghaznavi), his brother’s widow (Angeline Malik) and his young nephew Sherry do not want him to. This, in essence, is the crux of the story.

Safeer-i-Ishq effectively portrays the grief of the family, especially Sherry’s, who finds it difficult to even look at his father’s photographs and does not let anyone sit in his father’s chair. It is these fine details, scripted by Atif Ali Khan, that make the play an engaging watch.

Another character is Rashid, Salman’s friend and film-maker who is visiting from the US and staying with the family while working on a documentary on Muharram. He is used as a plot device to clear misconceptions about Muharram and to help Sherry accept his father’s death as Rashid too has lost his father.

On tackling ‘taboo’ subjects

Do plays such as Safeer-i-Ishq indicate that TV channels are now willing to tackle previously taboo subjects? Did the writer and director have to tone down the script? Were the actors hesitant in accepting these roles? Why have such plays never been produced before? I put these questions to director Shahid Shafaat and the former head of scripts at Hum TV, Abdul Khaliq Khan, who is behind the central idea of Safeer-i-Ishq.

“The actors were initially apprehensive,” Shafaat admitted, adding that “they did not want it to be one-sided. Also because of the sensitivity of the subject the script went through several re-drafts before it was finalised. We had to ensure that the play was not preachy but had a compassionate sentiment throughout.”

Khan said that the play was “experimental.” “We had to write it in such a way that there was no negative reaction from our heavily polarised society. Having said that, it was indeed inspired by actual events: a member of our fraternity — the well-known actor Sajid Hasan — himself lost family members in the Ashura blast.”

Shafaat mulls for a long time when asked why plays on such themes have not been produced before. “Honestly, I don’t have an answer. However, whatever is happening around us should be reflected in our TV plays. For instance, one can do a play on the loss of bread-earners of a family following a bomb blast. We don’t have to ascribe religious traits to the characters but just do a drama on what happens to the family after a bomb blast takes place. But then even TV has increasingly become conservative which is reflected in the plays that are being made.”

Khan agrees with Shafaat’s observations and adds that the television industry has a long way to go in tackling such subjects. And even if a TV channel does agree to take on a sensitive subject such as inter-sect, or inter-faith marriage they get cold feet and change the script mid-way. “A script penned by Amna Mufti arrived while I was associated with a private channel. It was about a Sunni-Shia couple and the obstacles they face in their inter-sect marriage. However, when the shooting began, all the sect references were removed from the script and the serial was broadcast without these elements.

“The producers are not willing to invest in plays and serials that do not ensure a good financial return,” said Khan when asked about the way forward. “The game is all about ratings. Those dramas depicting women’s miserable conditions which increase ratings will continue to dominate TV channels’ programming. Forget about hesitation in tackling socio-political subjects, the channels are even unable to stomach a strong female character such as the one I wrote last year for the drama serial Kaafir (produced by Six Sigma Entertainment for ARY Digital); it received poor ratings.”

Ultimately, it’s viewer attention (and channel interest) that will decide if such content makes it on to the small screen. Perhaps the only thing that really sells is escapism and people don’t want to be reminded of the often grim realities of life. However, for Pakistani dramas to truly become meaningful and memorable, art must, at some point, acknowledge the real world, warts and all.