An unmarried, Punjabi cloth merchant in his 50s and a poor, young widow from war-ravaged Afghanistan are unlikely ingredients for a romance, but they were the heart of Kabuli Pulao, the serial that recently completed a critically successful run on television.

The drama attracted many viewers who had all but given up on the melodramatic domestic intrigues that usually characterise most television prime time productions.

Known for his detailed characterisations, veteran playwright Zafar Meraj offered us a very different kind of hero, whose main attractions were strength of character, honesty and a nature that erred towards rough-edged kindness.

A man of many talents, Mohammed Ehteshamuddin is better known as a successful film and TV director, but he is also a talented actor — he got his start from theatre — and has played a range of supporting roles. Stepping into the limelight as Haji Mushtaq in Kabuli Pulao, Ehteshamuddin showed us his ability to carry the most emotional and moving scenes with restraint, but which could still communicate the depths of joy, loss and quiet shame with cutting precision.

When the story began, Haji Mushtaq had long put thoughts of a personal life aside; the eldest son of a widow, he had raised his siblings as his children and channelled his energy into charity and religion.

Green Entertainment’s Kabuli Pulao drew in viewers who had long ago abandoned Pakistani television dramas because of their reliance on melodrama and sensational storylines around domestic intrigue. There was a reason why

His union with the young widow Barbeena was a sight unseen, imposed on the reluctant Haji Mushtaq by Barbeena’s wish to honour the man who had saved her brother’s leg. The wedding was an embarrassment for Haji Mushtaq, who shuffled and mumbled through it, leaving all agency and consent to Barbeena.

Compare this to the popular “heroes” of prime time Pakistani television, whose first glimpse is usually the shine on their imported shoes, as they step out of a large car with guards in tow. Their brand of masculinity involves stalking, abducting and coercing women into relationships. Filled with violent rage, and given to primitive displays of dominance and control, they destroy anyone who gets in their way.

One particularly egregious scene, repeated ad nauseam, is of male leads threatening women by putting a gun to their own heads. Yet this is considered commercial gold.

Haji Mushtaq also fights off dragons for Barbeena, but they are the monsters of the ego, and jealous and insecure family members that cast their union as a midlife crisis or, worse, lust.

Midway through the serial, a well-meaning Pakistani official takes Barbeena aside and asks her, “How much did he pay for you?” because, with such a gap in both means and age, the first thing that comes to everyone’s mind is human trafficking.

“With a lot of love and compassion,” she replies.

We have seen Sabeena Farooq in several prime time shows, most notably as the clingy Haya, the prime villain of this year’s blockbuster hit Tere Bin, where her role required cartoonish melodrama.

In contrast, Barbeena is a painfully modest soul who misses her lost love Baran, but marries Haji partly out of gratitude and partly to move on. Farooq captures Barbeena’s ability to live, love and hope perfectly (it’s definitely a bonus that she’s also a native Pashto speaker), but where she really shines is when we see what, as a woman, she dares not express.

Barbeena’s anguish and confusion at seeing her first husband return from the dead, her fear of Haji’s brother-in-law Ghaffar is buried deep inside her because then she would be doubted or blamed.

Director Kashif Nisar is a master storyteller, and once again elicited an array of fantastic performances from his actors.

Nadia Afgan is always a delight to see on screen, and her portrayal of Haji Mushtaq’s forever-unwanted fiancée Shameem, sometimes bitter but always loving, was another gem. Negative characters, such as Ghaffar played by Saqib Sameer, Umer Darr as Inspector Ilyas and greyer characters such as Chhammo played by Raima Khan also stood out in an array of strong performances.

Green Entertainment’s YouTube production model allowed director Nisar the freedom to edit and skip filler episodes and the irrational twists they require, giving us a sleek, well-plotted drama that was easy to watch. Recognising the potential of a good story is the sign of a great producer, and Green Entertainment added not one but two beautiful songs, ‘Mussawwir aakhain’ and ‘Tooti phooti’, which were used very effectively to enhance the intensity of emotions.

Like its namesake culinary dish, Kabuli Pulao was a mixture of the salty and the sweet, reminding us that all traditions are not inherently bad and can sometimes provide more structure and stability than the illusion of modernity.

The story’s commentary on relationships was equally fascinating. The bickering young couple who married for love are violent and unhappy because they demand so much, without giving in or resolving their issues. Shameem is lonely because she stubbornly clings to a one-sided attraction that Haji Mushtaq will never return. Another perspective is offered by Chhammo and Ghaffar’s abusive, transactional marriage, where the wife suffers open adultery and violence for the sake of “respectability”.

Finally, there is Haji Mushtaq and Barbeena’s relationship that worked out despite the age gap and differences, because both were sincere, willing to sacrifice and put in the work to be together.

This was the kind of TV drama Pakistan Television was once acclaimed for in its golden era.

Published in Dawn, ICON, January 7th, 2024