A few weeks ago, my son confidently answered something I had asked him. I confirmed if he was sure and, when he replied in the affirmative, my response was, “Lock kar diya jaaye? [Should your answer be locked in?]” He looked at me blankly, completely clueless.
It was not that he had never heard of Amitabh Bachchan or Kaun Banega Crorepati?. But for someone who has grown up watching YouTube videos instead of television, the reference held no meaning.
My generation, and the one before it, built a repertoire of knowledge through active seeking: we searched libraries, waited for TV programmes, read newspapers and engaged in conversations to learn about the world. Perhaps that is why we valued information differently and retained so much of it. Today, children have access to knowledge at their fingertips, yet the shared cultural experience that connected generations is gradually fading away.
It was at the turn of the century that Gen-X and Gen-Y were introduced to the Indian adaptation of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?, the British television game show that debuted in 1998. Successful versions soon followed in the United States and India, with Pakistan eventually joining the trend as well.
Children today have access to knowledge at their fingertips. Yet, the shared cultural experience that connected generations via television shows is gradually fading away
In 2000, Bollywood superstar Amitabh Bachchan was chosen to host the Indian version, Kaun Banega Crorepati (KBC). At the time, Bachchan’s career was at a low point, yet the decision proved to be a master stroke. Bachchan’s towering presence, coupled with the show’s slick production and high-stakes format, turned it into an instant phenomenon.
Audiences would eagerly await each episode, discussing questions and contestants long after the credits rolled, and counting the time until the next broadcast. The show’s style of questioning became part of everyday conversation, while Amitabh Bachchan’s trademark laugh etched itself into our collective memory. On and off, the programme continued for nearly 25 years!
Interestingly, KBC even found an indirect connection to the Academy Awards. In 2008, director Danny Boyle drew inspiration from the show’s format for his Oscar-winning film Slumdog Millionaire, in which the protagonist’s appearance on the Indian show forms the backbone of the story. The film went on to win eight Academy Awards, while its signature song, ‘Jai ho’, became a global phenomenon.
Speaking of popular shows and memorable songs, I am reminded of a day in 2005 when our entire office staff — stationed in Dubai — witnessed a rare citywide power outage. The outage lasted only a few hours and, with little else to do, employees from both the morning and evening shifts gathered to find a way to pass the time.
The choice was not KBC but Antakshari — the immensely popular Zee TV musical game show that had become a household favourite during the 1990s. Before long, colleagues were divided into teams, singing songs and recalling lyrics with the same enthusiasm that viewers once reserved for the show.
During family picnics, Antakshari had largely replaced traditional board games such as Ludo and cards. Interestingly, this marked a significant cultural shift, as just one generation earlier, singing in front of elders was often considered inappropriate and actively discouraged.
The post-1993 era undoubtedly brought a wave of Indian television content into Pakistani homes, influencing viewing habits across Pakistan. Despite this influx, there were still local programmes that held an irresistible attraction for audiences.
One such show was That’s It!, hosted by Qureshpur, with the formidable duo of Ghazi Salahuddin and Obaidullah Baig providing intellectual sparring and insightful commentary. The programme encouraged curiosity and knowledge and made its debut at a time when television was expected to educate as much as it entertained.
A few years later came Kasauti, aired on Pakistan Television. The format was simple yet captivating. The Ghazi-Baig duo had to identify an object, person, place, animal or historical figure by asking no more than 20 questions. Their vast knowledge, sharp reasoning and remarkable ability to deduce the correct answer from the smallest clues transformed the programme into both an educational experience and a source of entertainment, making it a favourite with viewers of all ages.
What many viewers did not realise then was that Kasauti was actually a revival of a programme that had originally aired on PTV during the late 1960s and early 1970s. Poet Iftikhar Arif used to accompany Obaidullah Baig in the show which, when televised, led to deserted streets.
And finally, there was the show that began with “Ibtida hai Rab-i-Jaleel ke babarkat naam se [Beginning with the blessed name of God]” and ended with “Pakistan Zindabad! [Long live Pakistan].” You have probably guessed it by now: Neelam Ghar, later renamed Tariq Aziz Show and Bazm-i-Tariq Aziz.
Tariq Aziz was the first face that appeared on PTV when it started transmission in 1964. After a stint in films, he decided to return to television after his own film production, Saajan Rang Rangeela (The Flirty Beloved, 1975), failed miserably at the box office. Fate then brought him to Karachi.
In 1975, Neelam Ghar was launched on PTV and Tariq Aziz’s name became synonymous with it. For decades, he entertained generations through a format that combined prizes, knowledge, humour and audience participation. Whether it was testing the mind or memory, recalling prose or poem, or meeting celebrities, the show was one of its kind.
The programme continued under the name Neelam Ghar until the turn of the century, before becoming the Tariq Aziz Show and later Bazm-i-Tariq Aziz. Phrases such as “Mere bhai, mera sawaal hai [My brother, my question to you is]” and “Inka daawa hai [His claim is]” became a part of everyday conversation. Long before people were imitating Amitabh Bachchan, they were imitating Tariq Aziz!
The show remained closely associated with Tariq Aziz throughout his life and continued, in one form or another, until his final years. Even when it was taken off-air for a while, it never truly disappeared from the public consciousness, remaining an integral part of our cultural memory for more than four decades.
With life becoming increasingly fast-paced, families rarely have the time to sit together and enjoy such games the way they once did. The programmes that inspired them have either disappeared or evolved, while entertainment itself has become a far more individualised experience, consumed on phone screens rather than in shared living rooms.
The writer is a vintage cinema enthusiast. He can be reached at suhaybalavi@gmail.com
Published in Dawn, ICON, June 21st, 2026