Why Pakistani Dramas Rule the Search Bar—But Not Our Standards

Google’s Most Searched Dramas 2025 reveals itself, and the list is seriously triggering for anyone attached to Pakistan’s Entertainment Industry – always in the news, always trending, yet not always on the same page. While some audiences celebrate stories like Zard Patton Ka Bunn and Nadaan, others attach little value to the meaning in the narratives as views do most of the talking. “Show me the views,” say creators and sponsors (we might have heard if we were a fly on the wall in a major production house – no names, only assumptions; disclaimer: this article is a work of fiction, any resemblance to drama creators present or past is purely coincidental). Nonetheless, many stories that meet critics’ approval or win over a small segment of viewers as breakthrough content do not necessarily guarantee mass audience traction.

Hence, in a world where viewership ratings do the talking, how can we keep producing content that has no traction? The debate is exhaustive, yet it resurfaces every few months — are creators responsible for irresponsible and sensational storytelling, or are they merely putting out what audiences want to watch in a free market?

Well, to put it simply, the market is not completely free. Were all Pakistani audiences able to access Netflix, Amazon, and major streaming networks at the same cost as local channels and YouTube, would they not gravitate towards K-dramas, 12th Fail, Adolescence, and yes, even Delhi Crimes, instead of Judwaa, Sher, and Aas Paas? Is it more about the diet audiences are force-fed rather than a genuine preference for it?

Think of it this way: if a nation is fed deep-fried chicken nuggets every day, will it ever develop an appreciation for home-prepared food — healthy, diverse, and less likely to give you diabetes, heart disease, and a dozen other conditions? If a child is handed a digital screen instead of being encouraged to play outdoors, will he not become pale, vitamin D deficient, unable to unwind, exercise, or grow into a balanced mind and body?

The approach closely resembles an industry that mercilessly feeds us stories where society sees itself in toxic heroes, even more toxic mothers-in-law, helpless or desperate heroines, and a culture of conspiratorial joint families laced with extra-marital affairs. The “more layered” stories come with a hero who needs his heroine to “fix” the poor parenting he received, or a heroine who abandons her ambitions for the first man who stalks her, never takes no for an answer, and miraculously earns her love.

If this is the only diet a nation is given, then these are the dramas that will trend all year long. Young men and women will continue to live out their fantasies vicariously — and some, disturbingly, will become these characters in real life.

When creators lament that they don’t have a free hand to tell stories, when writers are forced to write what sells, and when actors agree to star in content boasting viral views, it’s not because these are the stories we want. It’s because we haven’t heard better stories, and we no longer believe we can tell them. It’s the same with chicken nuggets: if fast food is your lifelong diet, there is no way you develop a palate for anything healthier.

Presently, the Pakistani drama season is delivering great storytelling with scripts like Biryani, Pamaal, Jama Taqseem, and Jinn Ki Shadi Unki Shadi doing the rounds and receiving genuine audience love. Pakistani viewers are breathing a sigh of relief that they can finally switch off from streaming apps and watch meaningful narratives on local television.

But the victory might be short-lived. Because for every responsible story that strikes a balance between messaging and entertainment, there are five others promising sensationalism, fantastical storytelling, and eager audiences waiting to push up the views — because they still haven’t detoxed from the toxic drama diet.

In many countries, fast food restaurants have a quota — a neighborhood cannot host more than a certain number. Similarly, while entertainment industries abroad may produce cringe-worthy reality shows, they remain a small part of a much larger ecosystem that consistently delivers thought-provoking stories, real-life narratives, and acclaimed adaptations.

In Pakistan, it’s not that we lack writers who can deliver sharp scripts — just look at Tan Man Neelo Neel, Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum, Zard Patton Ka Bunn, or Mrs & Mr Shameem (first streamed on Z, now on YouTube). The issue is that these stories aren’t allowed enough airtime to seep into our collective conscience. A consistent diet of quality content is not sustained long enough for audiences to connect with characters who resemble them, rather than characters they wish to become in some darker fantasy.

Until we repeatedly allow these stories to play out on screen, until we counteract toxic narratives with wholesome ones, we will continue feeding an ecosystem where fiction walks off the screens and into our real lives. The Zahir Jaffars and Noor Mukaddams of our time will continue to appear in headlines because we failed to tell the stories of Pakistan’s Sana Mirs, Asma Jahangirs, and Muniba Mazaris.

In the coming year, Google Trends 2026 may follow its predecessor and showcase Pakistan’s most-searched dramas — but not necessarily the stories that deserved to be searched. So who’s to blame? The audience or the creators?

Did you know heart disease is on the rise in Pakistan, and diabetes is one of the leading causes of death? But that’s only because we love the sugar in our food. It has nothing to do with the hand that made it in the first place.

Throwback Thursday: 3 Classic Pakistani Dramas You Should Never Miss A Chance To Rewatch!