Drama or Damage? How Pakistani Serials Shape Our Views on Abuse, Fame, and Femininity

Read time: approx 10-15 mins

Pakistani dramas are more than evening entertainment — they are a mirror of our society and, sometimes, a dangerous script for it. As millions tune in nightly, characters who glorify emotional abuse, male dominance, and the myth of the "redeemable" toxic lover continue to shape our perception of love and identity. Actors like Danish Taimoor and Feroze Khan have repeatedly portrayed these roles, and instead of critique, they are often met with admiration and fanfare. But when reel life begins to influence real lives — as seen in the tragic murder of Sana Yousuf or the misunderstood legacy of Qandeel Baloch — it forces us to ask: what stories are we celebrating, and at what cost?

The Repetition of Toxic Male Leads

Pakistani dramas have long glamorised a specific type of male lead: possessive, emotionally unavailable, and, disturbingly, often abusive. Danish Taimoor, one of the most prominent faces in recent years, has taken on such roles repeatedly — from Deewangi (2019) to Ishq Hai (2021) to Kaisi Teri Khudgarzi (2022) to more recently Mann Mast Malang (2025) which is making waves on the internet- all for the wrong reasons. In these stories, his characters often stalk, manipulate, or force their way into the lives of women, only to later be “redeemed” by love or loss. His roles often promote a dangerous fear of rejection or being told “no”, suggesting that a woman’s refusal is not a boundary to be respected but a challenge to overcome. This reinforces the harmful idea that persistence—even if it borders on harassment—is a form of love, which not only distorts emotional boundaries but can have real-life consequences when absorbed by impressionable audiences. The troubling part is that these roles are not condemned within the narrative — they are celebrated. This sends a dangerous message: that obsession equals love, and control is passion. Danish Taimoor is now being typecast into repeatedly playing these roles because we, as an audience, sit down to watch these dramas, increasing viewership and TRPs and encouraging producers and channels to show us more of this content. 

We cannot forget where the glorification of such characters started- Feroze Khan's breakthrough drama Khaani (2017). His character, a murderer who guns down Khaani’s brother, is positioned not as a villain but as a romantic anti-hero. Despite his crimes, audiences swooned over his intensity and devotion. A particularly disturbing scene unfolds when he threatens Khaani on her wedding day, attempting to emotionally blackmail her into loving him. This scene — meant to be dramatic — is consumed by many as romantic, reinforcing the idea that dominance, entitlement, and manipulation are acceptable expressions of love.

The unease doesn't end there. Feroze Khan’s real-life controversy with his ex-wife Alizeh Sultan brought troubling parallels into sharp focus. In 2022, Alizeh publicly accused Feroze of domestic abuse, submitting evidence including medical reports and photographs in court. The irony was unsettling: the man who rose to fame romanticising abusive power dynamics on-screen was now facing serious allegations of inflicting harm in real life. Yet, even then, many fans rushed to his defence, further proving how the repeated romanticisation of abusive men in media has real consequences. It doesn't just desensitise us — it conditions us to excuse and even admire abuse, as long as it’s wrapped in charisma.

These repeated depictions don’t just remain on screen — they seep into our cultural consciousness, normalising toxic behaviour and desensitising audiences to real-life violence against women.

When Art Imitates Life - and Becomes Dangerous

This dangerous normalisation of toxic masculinity is vividly dramatised just recently- the murder of 17‑year‑old TikTok influencer Sana Yousaf, who was fatally shot inside her home in Islamabad by her 22‑year‑old cousin, Umar Hayat, after she repeatedly rejected his unwanted romantic advances. Police described the murder as “gruesome and cold‑blooded,” noting that the suspect had loitered for hours before breaking in and shooting her at point‑blank range.

When dramas like Khaani depict emotional blackmail or wedding‑day threats as “romantic,” they don’t simply entertain—they broadcast and reinforce a toxic mindset, where male entitlement and control are acceptable, even admirable. Sana’s murder shows what happens when that message leaks into real life: rejection becomes a provocation, assertion becomes a crime, and saying “no” becomes deadly. Her death is a tragic, irrefutable demonstration of how romanticised abuse in media isn’t harmless—it perpetuates a worldview where violence against women is normalised.

Qandeel Baloch & Baaghi: The Misunderstood Feminist Icon

The story of Qandeel Baloch, Pakistan’s first major social media star known for her boldness and outspokenness, highlights the brutal realities faced by women who challenge societal norms. Baaghi, the drama based on Qandeel’s life and portrayed powerfully by Saba Qamar, delves into these complexities with remarkable fearlessness. The drama depicts how Saba's character was repeatedly used by her own family members as a source of money, with relatives flattering and exploiting her for financial gain. Yet, the moment they discovered how she earned that money — by risking her reputation and safety through bold self-expression — they turned their backs on her, spitting on the very woman they had drained dry. The family’s hypocrisy was laid bare: no one questioned or cared about how she was supporting them, only that the means were socially unacceptable.

At its core, Baaghi is a devastating portrait of a woman murdered in the name of honour—a euphemism that continues to mask the cold-blooded killings of women who defy patriarchal norms. Qandeel’s real-life death at the hands of her own brother wasn’t about honour—it was about control, ego, and the fear of a woman who refused to be silenced. The drama boldly confronts this reality, shedding light on how honour is weaponised to justify violence, particularly against outspoken, independent women.

A striking contrast is seen in the character played by Osman Khalid Butt, who views Saba Qamar’s character differently from other men around her. Unlike the family members and society who exploit, judge, or reject her, his character shows empathy and respect, recognising her strength and struggles. This rare male perspective highlights how societal norms often cloud men's understanding of women who dare to be different, and his character serves as a subtle reminder of the empathy and support that are so often missing in real life.

Saba Qamar’s choice to play this challenging role fits within her broader career of bold and fearless drama selections that often tackle taboo and socially relevant issues. Known for portraying complex, layered women who refuse to be silenced, Saba’s work carries real impact precisely because she takes on stories that force viewers to confront uncomfortable truths. Her portrayal of Qandeel felt especially authentic, as if it resonated deeply with her own commitment to highlighting women’s struggles and agency in a conservative society.

Through Baaghi, audiences were offered a raw look at the double standards women face — exploited when convenient, shamed when assertive. Unlike the “redeemed” toxic male characters in other dramas, Qandeel’s narrative is one of constant vilification and tragedy, reminding us how far Pakistani media and society still need to go to truly embrace and protect women who dare to defy.

Doosra Chehra: Unmasking the Glitter

Doosra Chehra (2025), starring Saboor Aly and Sanam Saeed, explores two women living parallel lives in the world of fame and public scrutiny. The drama pulls back the curtain on the glamourised lives of celebrities and the darker realities beneath the surface. It exposes how the shiny, enviable world of fame is often a carefully curated illusion — filled with pressure, loneliness, and emotional turmoil. Instead of idolising the sparkle, Doosra Chehra invites viewers to question the price of celebrity worship and the toxic envy it breeds.

The show also reflects the public’s obsession with stars, revealing how society often envies the glamour without understanding the pain that comes with it. It challenges the fantasy of perfect lives and relationships, offering a sobering look at how the facade of fame can mask deep insecurities and personal struggles. This is a much-needed wake-up call in a culture that frequently elevates celebrities to unreachable standards, only to tear them down when they falter.

The Urgent Need for Responsible Storytelling

As Pakistani dramas continue to shape public attitudes and cultural norms, the need for responsible storytelling has never been more urgent. When toxic masculinity is romanticised and abusive behaviours are framed as love, dramas risk normalising harm rather than challenging it. Creators have a powerful platform—and with that comes the responsibility to depict relationships and characters in ways that promote respect, consent, and equality.

Regulatory bodies like PEMRA must step up to enforce stricter content standards, ensuring scenes that glorify violence or inappropriate behaviour—such as the recently viral and controversial scene from Man Mast Malang—are banned or handled with care. Such content not only disturbs viewers but also perpetuates harmful norms that can seep into societal attitudes.

Actors like Danish Taimoor face particular scrutiny, as many of his recurring roles have been criticised for glorifying controlling and abusive behaviour. It’s important, however, to consider the complexities of typecasting and the pressures actors face in an industry where such roles are prevalent. While Danish’s choices do have an impact on public perceptions and he should take accountability for promoting positive messages, it’s also true that acting is his livelihood and means of providing for his family. The responsibility lies not only on individuals but on the entire industry to create and promote healthier narratives and opportunities.

Audiences deserve stories that do not just entertain but also educate and empower. Portraying the real consequences of abuse, the struggles of survivors, and the importance of healthy boundaries can spark crucial conversations and inspire societal change. Actors like Saba Qamar, who bravely choose bold roles, set an example of how art can challenge entrenched stereotypes and encourage empathy.

If Pakistani dramas are to continue their tradition of cultural relevance and popularity, they must evolve beyond glorifying control and obsession. It’s time to embrace narratives that uplift, protect, and respect women and men alike—stories that reflect the reality many live, while inspiring a future free from violence and injustice.