Joint family setups have been the target of many a Pakistani drama script – from doting grandchildren to overbearing grandfathers, sparring cousins and conspiracy mongering bahus – the joint family has been examined through the lens of mostly comedy plays in a long line of Ramzan dramas. To make sure the story stayed relevant, the script also shifted to show mothers-in-law like Shahana, who moved away from the saazishi, to the endearing, and then came the hero himself, who traveled a journey from toxic to protective and even empowering. And voila! The joint family became more palatable, easier on the digestion, finely tempered to the Gen Z soul.
The latest narratives featured working bahus, a hero who not only brewed a perfect cup of chai but also cooked, cleaned and stood up for the rights of his newly-wed wife before the over bearing parents – predictable much or palatable enough? But at the end of the day, the glaciers might melt (they literally are) and heaven and earth sway in simultaneous shock waves, but the joint family was always there to stay as a flag bearer of the institution, that we have managed to retain our cultural roots, our respect for family and our regard and total submission to it.
A big win, right?
But have you heard of toxic positivity?
Pakistani drama audiences took sides; from Team Mannat to Team Murad, from Team Jiya to Team Arsal, but no matter how it turned out in the end, one subplot always stayed the same, we knew there would be a happily ever after…together, in one big happy family. And it was this very whitewashing, of treating our deepest injuries under the guise of humour, light banter and prime time laughter, that Pakistani dramas told audiences – joint families are the centre of your world. Young girls romanticized the version of chachas spoiling their nieces and nephews, and cousins living together, spending weekends playing Tambola, or late night escapades for ice cream, or even badgering dadi for some extra pocket money on the side.
All that is well and good, and nobody is denying the wholesomeness of family love, but it can’t take way from the every day trauma, the cracks that appear in the relationship of a newly wedded couple, the years they stay grounded, not being allowed to spread their wings and fly or even spend quality moments together, and not because they can’t or don’t want to, but because someone in a joint family believes that cooking 40 rotis or washing clothes in a manual washing machine is what makes joint families click.
Well here’s the best kept secret on earth. It doesn’t. It’s what makes the system a pain, and even a form of quiet harassment, one that has been nullified and brushed under the carpet by the very people who might have suffered it at one time.
Audiences watching Jama Taqseem seem to be undergoing a catharsis of sorts. While some feel reality is stretched a bit too far, others have related to moments from the drama that seem to mirror real life incidents. What’s really sad, or perhaps, triggering is the number of women and young men, who watch, and speak for Laila and Qais online because these two have given voice to the real life trauma that real life audiences cannot voice or get away from.
Imagine watching the drama as a young bahu sitting beside her mother in-law, where Laila is reprimanded for going to her mother’s house without taking permission from her mother in-law, or Qais smuggles sushi in the room because… everyone does it, but no one admits it. Imagine an existence where this sneaky behaviour, of hiding chocolates, fruits and Sushi from the rest of the house has become normalized, and your children pick up the same behaviours… well, because they see you doing it too.
Now imagine if all this is treated as comedy onscreen. There is something about the Pakistani psyche that manages to turn our lowest moments into witticisms or a comedy of errors – reference the meme culture that we’re notorious for and flaunt proudly – Pakistani dramas and their romanticization of toxic heroes (don’t even make me us there), and toxic joint families is the reverse positivity we do not need to see.
When a young girl like Laila walks into a joint family system and is asked to prepare food, cook, clean and not work outside the house, in fact, ask permission from her in-laws before she leaves the house – can we call it by any other name but harassment? Harassment defined as excessive pressure or/and intimidation is what Laila was made to feel when Qais and she were berated for having some fun in the rain, washing clothes together or planning to cook a meal together.
And for all those who question why Laila had to walk into a joint family, knowing what was in store for her – victim blaming is also a thing. Just because one wants things to work out and sincerely plans to, does not mean toxicity or harassment can be excused in the new environment. It’s like saying, well – she asked for it. When Laila tells Qais, people who live with a smell around them can’t notice it, it is only when someone comes from outside that they smell it, seemed to bring the pooint home. Everyone who inhabits a toxic culture has already normalized it, just like Qais, who sees nothing gravely wrong with his family, just some superficial cracks that can or cannot be fixed. It is only an outsider who is not used to the stench, pardon the strong example, but just picking up from Laila’s words, who notices that something is seriously wrong. Case in point: When Laila questions why they are hiding the sushi in the room and eating it, Qais had no issues with this behaviour.
While girls like Laila might be empowered enough to walk away, or they might be like Nighat who comes from a wealthy family and forces a shift in the status quo, milking the situation to their benefit. But then there’s also Rashida, who has no family to turn to, and whose husband Majeed also cuts a meek albeit well-meaning member of the household. For Laila, the situations she encounters will make her react. She might not even comply with all the antiquated rules set down by her in-laws and won’t be coerced into it either. E.g. She left her in-laws’ home clearly frustrated with Qais’s attitude and didn’t follow the rule of asking her mother-in-law’s permission, let alone informing her. For Nighat, she rules the roost. As the eldest bahu with a family that carries social and financial clout, she’s able to get her way without asking for it.
But it is girls like Rashida who bear the maximum brunt of the joint family fallout. She and her children must do the grind. She is being made to do all the housework, her children neglected, harassed, to obey the older cousins, and also not to answer back. Their treatment might even border on quiet harassment. Nobody notices their forced silence that is born out of subtle intimidation, nobody wants to take on the aggressor – Nighat bhabi and Hameed, and hence, the cycle continues. Even Qais tells Laila that they are used to watching Nadir shower gifts on his family, so it’s really not that big a deal.
When watching Jama Taqseem, two parallel thoughts cloud the mind – one: is the drama intentionally showing a negative side to the joint family debate to play to audience sensitivities? More negativity, more conversations? Or, is the drama a counter reaction to all the positivity, mostly exaggerated, sometimes unreal, that the narratives of the past have served up as picture-perfect examples of joint family setups. And hence, even if the picture is a bit stretched now, to the other side, a bit more negative, a bit more lopsided than the real story, how come nobody was complaining when we made it look comical? That too, was a stretch of the imagine, but a stretch we were willing to digest because it served the larger purpose – of one big happy family, living together happily ever after… even if they didn’t in real life.
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Jama Taqseem is written by Sarwat Nazir and directed by Ali Hassan. It is a project of MD Productions and is airing on HUM TV. The cast includes Mawra Hocane, Talha Chahour, Javed Sheikh, Deepak Perwani, Madiha Rizvi, Hassan Ahmed, Tazeen Hussain, Amna Khan, Beo Rana Zafar, and more.
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