At a time when Pakistani television desperately needs a saving grace, Ek Jhooti Love Story, starring Bilal Abbas Khan and Madiha Imam, provides one. There is sweetness, intellect and elegance in the story and its characters. The show portrays a young couple trying to make their ordinary lives mean something. Both Salma and Shoaib, middle class and living in a suburban Karachi mohalla, are awestruck by Natalia and Nofil, respectively. This results in each creating a fake persona of their idol on the internet and inevitably finding (and hopelessly falling in love with) each other.

The show, although lighthearted, treads with care on social issues such as rishta culture, the notion of a marriageable age for women, difficulties of the middle class and aspirations of social mobility. It does all of this in a non-preachy and engaging way – a fairly new sensibility for Pakistani dramas. Ek Jhooti Love Story premiered as a Zee5 Original in November 2020, after the tremendous success of Churails, both across the region and globally.

Unfortunately, the Pakistani viewers, who severely needed (and deserved) a refuge from everyday preachy and mediocre TV shows such as Nand and Mere Paas Tum Ho, have been deprived of Ek Jhooti Love Story. As tensions between India and Pakistan rose, Zee5 subscriptions were blocked by the State Bank of Pakistan in November, when the show aired. Across the border, Zee5 also faced backlash from the right-wing for collaborating with Pakistani creators and artists.

Ek Jhooti Love Story was created by the writer-director duo of Umera Ahmed and Mehreen Jabbar, who have previously given us iconic shows like Malal and Daam. Umera Ahmed, who has also written Zindagi Gulzar Hai, is in an entirely new element with this show. The premise is also original and relevant to today’s cyber landscape. Mehreen Jabbar, an award-winning director, brings the show to life through impeccable visuals and engaging scenes. The transitions are breezy and flow seamlessly. Never before have I watched, in the contemporary Pakistani drama landscape, a show as relevant and current to the suburban circumstances of young, middle-class people in their twenties. It allows us to imagine possibilities within cyberspace to explore ourselves and expand beyond our own constraints. Salma and Sohail primarily craft their fake identities in search of an escape from their own middle-class-ness, only to get further entwined in it.

Moreover, the show goes to lengths to talk about Pakistanis’ obsession with marriage, showing not one, not two, but three instances of it in a single episode. It depicts people getting married, people talking about getting married and people talking about not getting married. It sheds a blinding light on the intrusive rishta culture of Pakistan unlike any other Pakistani TV show. In one impactful scene, Salma’s eldest sister Shabana says “mein zara showpiece ban ke aati hun” (I’m going to turn into a showpiece), when her mother calls her to meet with the aunty who is to find her a rishta.

The ensemble cast, consisting of Hina Bayat, Kinza Razzaq, Muhammad Ahmed and more, is riveting. The supporting character that shines is of Salma’s mother, played by Beo Raana Zafar. She is compelling as the bossy and grumpy woman who is eager to get her children married to respectable families – it’s a bonus if they live abroad. It also has little moments of absolute purity: playful teasing between parents and children, sibling banter and the incredible chemistry of the lead pair.

Even though the show is not without its clichés and loopholes: how does one never guess that a social media profile is fake? How did the protagonists fall so hopelessly (and quickly) in love without ever meeting each other, going on to acknowledge each other as their ideals? The viewer lets it slide because they know the show isn’t trying to be as complex as a Christopher Nolan movie. It is a fairly simple TV show about the mundane and ordinary lives of middle-class people and that is exactly where its grace lies.

On the other hand, the Pakistani drama industry is a slave to ratings. They want raunchy premises, dramatic sequences and over-the-top (if mediocre) characters. Writers and directors have contended many times that they do not get much freedom to write what they want to. This results in TV shows glorifying domestic abuse and shaming the victims of abuse. OTT platforms, like Zee5, then become a beacon of light, giving artists the freedom to explore and innovate. The banning of these platforms sets us back in our progression from the clichéd primetime drama.

Ek Jhooti Love Story, at its worst, is a reminder for the Pakistani audience of what they are missing on their local TV channels, as well as what Pakistani artists are capable of producing when given the opportunity. At its best, it is a powerful commentary on middle-class rishta and dating culture executed in a lighthearted yet careful manner.

The writer is a student at LUMS