Behind the tender moments and apologies, Pamaal quietly exposes the cycle of trauma bonding. Keep reading.
While Malika and Raza walk along the dreamy paths of romance interjected with anger, rage, and abusive moments, viewers are left with a feeling of relief — just like Malika’s character — thank goodness all is well between them, and the couple has moved back to a happy equilibrium.
One wonders if this is exactly what abusers and their victims crave — that the relationship swings from one extreme to the other, setting up a cycle of pain and relief, almost as if it was fated to be this way — lovers manifesting intense, passionate outbursts interspersed with equally passionate bursts of love.
Many would call this the perfectly played-out definition of trauma bonding.
Trauma bonding is built on a cycle of reward (your partner being nice) and punishment (your partner being abusive), triggering the brain’s reward pathways and reinforcing attachment to the abuser.
Through these hormonal responses, trauma bonding creates a psychological trap where the victim relies on the abuser for both stress and relief — perpetuating a cycle that feels nearly impossible to escape, and one that isn’t too different from other addictions. (Recovery Unplugged)
Malika and Raza’s relationship started off with just the right mix of warm, comfortable love — Raza saving Malika from a pair of goons, falling in love with her storytelling, then proposing, but keeping in mind the magic word: consent.
However, these reward moments soon transitioned into Raza’s controlling behaviour masked by possessiveness, his bullying masked by tender loving care, and his anger masked by a need to protect Malika from the big, bad world.
In the course of just a few months, Raza’s rage took on a new low — targeting Malika’s self-esteem, sense of self-worth, and identity. She didn’t know any better — or she couldn’t, wouldn’t be competent enough to take on simple tasks independently and sensibly, know right from wrong, good from bad — let alone hire her own domestic help, do groceries, or pick a sofa set for her living room. Raza’s outbursts took on a humiliating tone, his words handpicked to hurt and make her feel she was, in fact, not really up to much good without his constant support and ‘helicopter husbanding’ — more like suffocating partnership.
Life is tough when you’re a Malika living with a Raza, because everything you do must be approved by the higher command. And not just that — very soon, under the weight of constantly being questioned, criticized, and degraded, you settle into a comfortable medium of acceptance and thankfulness. This is my life. I must be thankful to Raza for looking after my every need, catering to my moods, driving across town to pick me up in the middle of the night, and serving me food while I lie in bed — tired, angry, ignored, fed up — after cooking for his friends at a moment’s notice. All that dissolving into a plateful of warm biryani in a tray on a bed, served by the same man who made you go through all that pain, resentment, and anger just moments earlier.
And the reward-punishment cycle continues.
One wonders why Malika doesn’t just walk out once and for all and leave. But if we look up close, we see a woman who’s deep in the throes of a bond laced with trauma — riding the cycles of reward and punishment almost as if this was her destiny, what dreams are made of — a partner that always, always comes back to her, apologizes for throwing her into the depths of despair one moment, and lifting her up to the skies the next.
As Malika tells Anas, “Raza is the one I love. Whatever happens, I will never leave him. And no matter what, he is my life partner.”
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Pamaal is a Multiverse Entertainment production, written by Zanjabeel Asim and directed by Khizer Idrees, with Tehreem Chaudhary serving as producer. The cast includes Saba Qamar, Usman Mukhtar, Haris Waheed, Salma Asim, Adnan Jaffar, Faiza Gillani, Naima Khan, Shahnawaz Zaidi, and Fatiq.
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