Who hasn’t heard of the recent exchange of words between Atiqa Odho and Fahad Mustafa that began after a rapid-fire Q&A segment on a television show?

During the aforementioned segment, senior actress Atiqa Odho was shown an image of a much younger Fahad Mustafa, which led her to suggest that he should consider working with actresses closer to his age rather than repeatedly being featured opposite much younger ones.

Reacting in a different show, Fahad Mustafa retorted that Atiqa Odho should undergo more cosmetic surgery if she wished to appear as a heroine opposite him, which unsettled many viewers. Although Fahad Mustafa later apologised for his remarks, many people questioned whether the exchange was about personal ego or a much deeper issue within our showbiz culture.

Incidentally, Fahad Mustafa’s remarks were made in the presence of producer-actor Humayun Saeed, who is also guilty of ‘age gap’ casting. Earlier, Humayun Saeed had shared an image from an old Eid play, in which he had starred opposite Atiqa Odho.

The recent spat between Atiqa Odho and Fahad Mustafa has reignited the debate about age gaps between male and female co-stars. However, this raises a more important question: do age differences actually matter or does storytelling ultimately trump everything?

Now approaching his mid-50s, he continues to work opposite significantly younger actresses both in TV dramas and films, such as Sajal Aly (Main Manto Nahin Hoon), Mehwish Hayat (Punjab Nahin Jaoongi), Ayeza Khan (Mere Paas Tum Ho), Sohai Ali Abro (Jawani Phir Nahin Aani), Kubra Khan (Jawani Phir Nahin Aani 2) and Mahira Khan (Love Guru), to name just a few.

Such casting choices echo the earlier days of Lollywood, when age gaps between male and female actors were rarely questioned.

For example, Atiqa Odho’s first feature film was Jo Dar Gaya Woh Mar Gaya (1995), opposite veteran star Nadeem, who had started his career decades earlier with Chakori (1967) — a year before she was born! (Incidentally, the song Zindagi Mein Mujhko Itna Pyaar Mil Gaya from the film still retains its freshness and, every time it is played, it feels as vibrant and heartfelt as ever.)

In the same vein, many years earlier, veteran actress Firdous Begum played Nadeem’s mother in Aansoo (1971) and Lazawal (1984), even though she was six years younger than him. At that time, age gaps between co-stars were not only common but almost structural to the industry.

During that time, it was common for actresses, who were significantly younger than their male counterparts, to be cast opposite them — or sometimes even in maternal roles — without it raising any eyebrows. Age differences were secondary to the demands of the script, and audiences readily accepted such pairings as part of cinematic convention.

Take a look at Sultan Rahi’s collaborations with actress Deeba. Over the years, he portrayed her father in Shehnai (1967), her brother in Meri Muhabbat Tere Havaalay (1972), her romantic lead in Taqdeer Kahaan Ley Aayi (1976), and even her son in Shaheen (1977). All this despite the fact that, in real life, Deeba was nine years younger than Sultan Rahi!

The late ‘Chocolate Hero’ Waheed Murad romanced leading ladies such as Bahar Begum in Doctor (1965), Shamim Ara in Doraha (1967) and Naghma in Mastana Mahi (1970). In later projects, these actresses played maternal roles opposite him, in Dilruba (1975), Waqt (1976) and Awaz (1978) respectively.

Even Muhammad Ali — one of the finest actors of Pakistani cinema — followed a similar trajectory. He dominated the 1960s and 1970s as a leading hero yet, by the late 1970s, he too was appearing opposite much younger actresses.

His body of work demonstrates how fluid onscreen equations could be. Veteran actress Rani, for instance, shared varied dynamics with him in many films — as his mother in Ghar Ka Ujala (1966), his daughter in Wehshi (1971), his wife in Ek Gunah Aur Sahi (1975), and his sister in Behen Bhai (1979). Rani was also paired opposite Azm-ul-Haq and Ajab Gul in PTV dramas, both of whom were younger than her.

People still remember Faisal Rehman openly admiring a much older Shabnam in Nahin Abhi Nahin (1980), but that dynamic was rooted firmly in the script. The story demanded it, and the audience accepted it without hesitation. Similarly, many viewers are unaware of the actual age differences between Babra Sharif and her younger co-stars, such as Asif Raza Mir, Ayaz Naik and Faisal Rehman. Those pairings were embraced because audiences were invested in the narratives of the films these actors appeared in, not in their age differences.

This tradition is not unique to Pakistan. The legendary actor Alauddin, who played all kinds of roles with Neelo (Neend, Badnaam, Gehra Daagh and Nizam Lohar) during the 1960s, had earlier played the role of Indian actress Nargis’ father in Mela (1948). He was six years older than Nargis, but months younger than Nargis’s beloved — Dilip Kumar — in the movie.

Another notable example from Hindi cinema is Amitabh Bachchan, who was seen romancing a blind Rakhee in Barsaat Ki Ek Raat (1981), while the very next year he addressed her as maa [mother] in Shakti (1982). Similarly, Jackie Shroff has shared multiple relational arcs with a much younger Madhuri Dixit in films such as Tridev (1989), Sangeet (1992) and Khalnayak (1993). These examples underscore a long-standing cinematic convention: the audience’s willingness to suspend disbelief.

An interesting anecdote involves Juhi Chawla and Salman Khan. During a television appearance, Juhi remarked that she regretted never having worked with Salman as his leading lady and suggested, playfully, that they could still collaborate in that capacity. Salman quipped that, at this stage, she might instead play his mother! The comment was delivered lightly, not as an insult, yet it revealed the industry’s enduring fixation on female ageing.

Cinema thrives on storytelling. If a script justifies a pairing and the performances are compelling, viewers are generally willing to accept the narrative. A younger actress can convincingly portray a mother, an older actor can credibly play a college student, and a seasoned star can transform into a historical figure with decades removed from his life. Craft, preparation and conviction matter far more than arithmetic.

In the end, the magic of a film lies in its power to make audiences believe in it. What lingers in people’s memories is not the date of an actor’s birth but the authenticity of their performance. Ultimately, when storytelling triumphs, age fades into the background — and cinema and television, at their best, transcend time altogether.

The writer is a vintage cinema enthusiast. He can be reached at suhaybalavi@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, ICON, March 8th, 2026