Zard Patton Ka Bunn — A Case of Exploding Expectations

Is ZPKB a broken promise?

Wipe that tear dear, we are going to get back at ZPKB for cheating on us.

In fact, let’s all collectively channel Anjali and scream, “ZPKB is a cheeta” on repeat until the writer Mustafa Afridi, Kashf Foundation, and the director Saife Hassan go the Tina way. The drama was promoted as Shahrukh’s character from Swades (sorry in this house we don’t remember names of boring looking characters) but it turned out to be Rahul — thirty, flirty, and dirty.

I’d say it is neither Rahul nor the character-whose-name-we-don’t remember.

ZPKB is Arjun from Pardes. The calm dignity to Rajeev’s debauchery.

A wholesome soup to clean the palette — preparing it for the bombardment of flavours ahead in the week full of halal romance and cancelled fictional hubbies. So, it is only fitting that it aired on a Sunday.

Sunday is a looming threat of a day. It doesn’t have an identity of its own. It is like that yellow traffic light which wants to prepare us for what is to come, but we’re never prepared are we? But for Zard Patton Ka Bunn we were fully prepared. We had seen all of Kashf Foundation shows; from Rehai to Dil Na Umeed Toh Nahi (in this house we don’t consider the mild Kuch Ankahi a Kashf Foundation show). We had our tissue box by our side. Some smelling salts to calm our nerves. And our laptops buried away in the folds of our comforter with comfort food on the speed dial.

Because you certainly need all the comfort you can get after witnessing a harrowing portrayal of Paa Imtiaz sexually abusing young Zaibu and an unassuming Rakhi being sold as a sex worker.

In comes the Sunday of the inaugural episode and the show opens to lush green fields gradually making way for an open ground where a lot of people are gathered for an intense fight between…kukkars.

We press pause.

We press rewind in our minds and conclude this is fine, Udaari also had Meeran running after kukkars in the first episode and then running away from Pa Imtiaz’s harassment a few episodes later.

But that dark twist never came in ZPKB.

The question now arises — does that dilute the effectiveness of the drama? Do we stop liking it because it was a soup and not a spicy Korean fried chicken that makes your insides burn?

That depends on two things:

1. Your palette.
2. Your expectations.

Speaking of expectations, there are certain things you always expect from a Kashf Foundation show. A really strong message wrapped in solid storytelling that keeps you engaged.

Did ZPKB serve on all three fronts?

For some it did and for others it didn’t. Personally for me, I made a few adjustments like including Kuch Ankahi in the mix and moving out of my little laptop-comforter-cocoon — where I was fully prepared to trauma bond — to a more family friendly environment — which meant it was time to heal.

ZPKB is not a show that traumatizes you, it is a show that heals.

That’s the difference between Meenu’s Kesarkalan and Meeran and Rakhi’s gaon.

There is a pre Kuch Ankahi era for Kashf Foundation and a post Kuch Ankahi era. It is evident that the team led by Roshaneh Zafar has re-revised the strategy to become more solution-oriented instead of focusing on the problem itself. Their storytelling has also gone from being heavy-handed to light-hearted. They clearly want to engage a wider audience and the messaging is a mix of situations that live forever in your subconscious mind and monologues that sound like radio advertisements for mehkma-e-behbud-e-abadi.

The former we love, the latter we could do without.

Cue to the scene under the tree featuring Meenu and her BFF where Meenu suddenly turns her ad-mode on and rolls out a, “educated mothers lead to lesser population and better children”, message.

That was jarring and an oversell.

Then again, we’ve seen that in Kashf dramas previously. In Rehai, we had a sequence of silayi machine centre which was clearly a plug from the foundation. In Udaari we had Zaibu looking into the mirror and assuring herself, “Mein victim nahi survivor hoon.”

When I attended the press conference for Udaari in 2016, Roshaneh Zafar spoke about how they wanted to make their product more commercially viable. Udaari was a successful step in that direction, but then there are some issues which you cannot be light-hearted about and in came DNTN from the brilliant Kashif Nisar.

It was Kuch Ankahi that ruffled a lot of feathers in the audience.

In the last two years, I have watched and completed (yes, that is the keyword here) three dramas along with my family — Kuch Ankahi, Standup Girl, and Zard Patton Ka Bunn.

While this proves Kashf Foundation’s new strategy has widened the reach, we cannot look away from the difference between the marketed product and the delivered one. Kuch Ankahi was supposed to be a retelling of the very famous, and very desi, Jane Austen novel Pride and Prejudice.

If you ask me, essentially every Pakistani drama is an ode to P&P. Ghareeb maan baap, betion ki shaadion ke liye pareshan, and then a sarrial but rich good looking man accidently enters the chat. Then refuses to leave without a hand in marriage.

Anyway, coming back to the dhoka that was Kuch Ankahi, it was a Pride & Prejudice reverb that had a very minor detail missing — Mr. Darcy. If Azfar was your Mr. Darcy, then well, it failed to register because he didn’t get the girl. The girl, Lizzy, went to Mr. Bingley — who was supposed to be Jane’s man — and Jane ended up with Mr. Wickham. And Lydia was actually Phuppo!

There’s a lesson somewhere in here for the makers. And even for the viewers.

You don’t refuse to read a comforting book just because it didn’t end up being the thriller or romance you wanted it to be.

You recalibrate and enjoy the ride like we did with Kuch Ankahi.

Coming back to ZPKB, as I was saying you won’t see Rani being beaten up by her employers. You’ll see people talking about why it happened; and how parents should react if such a tragedy takes place.

This might make one say, “But that’s all talk no walk. Don’t tell us over population leads to high mortality rate during labour, child labour, consequently child abuse, and general lack of quality of life and education; show us.”

While Saif e Hasan chose not to show us the gory details, we did witness small pockets of stories that connected with the overarching themes of the drama which were education and overpopulation.

An instance that comes to mind is when Meenu, in her idiotically brave brainwave, decides she must meet Dr. Nofil in the middle of the night for a light chit chat. As she’s sneaking out, Population Control Chachi saves her neck by inviting her into the house of a woman in labour who dies because she was giving birth back to back and her health couldn’t take the toll. The local dayi (midwife) pronounces the woman shaheed, glorifying her death instead of admitting the lack of healthcare and need for gap between pregnancies.

As a viewer, you are expected to connect the dots that had the dead woman been educated she would have known about the rights she has over her body. The rights Meenu very openly asks from all her suitors and they end up leaving scarred for life because, “haw haye kitni besharam larki hai shaadi se pehle bache ki baat kar rahi hai.”

My mother, who soon joined me and my sisters in our weekly ZPKB viewings after we realised it was no DNTN, which can only be watched alone, belonged to the haw-haye party. Back in the initial episodes, when Meenu laid out her shartein for marriage, it wasn’t just Nadia’s brother who was stunned speechless, a huge segment of our aunties also found it jarring.

The same aunties smiled and blushed when Meenu narrated the very same stipulations to Nofil in the last episode and he smiled and sealed it with an, “I love you”.

Was it the way Nofil reacted that made her rights endearing to the audience? Or had ZPKB been successful in conveying the message that females should have complete autonomy of their bodies and their husbands can’t force anything on them?

A follow-up study by Kashf Foundation can help conclude that hypothesis. But speaking of Kashf Foundation changing gears, I’m sure their research must have shown a positive impact after Kuch Ankahi which made them stick with the slice of life format.

The con of slice of life dramas is that they can very easily lose grip on the audience. While we love snooping into the lives of our beloved influencers on the daily, getting weekly viewing of the life that is being lived in Kesarkalan can become redundant…unless the humans of Kesarkalan become our beloved.

And beloved did they become!

Bhoora Khan (Syed Tanveer Hussain) bhangra-ed his way into our hearts perfectly portraying a father who will be remembered more than Romeo Juliet because in this house we prefer a father who communicates with his daughter openly unlike the tragic couple who assume their way to death.

Speaking of death, we all recited innalillah on Malik Nadir only to find out later that he’s alive and not well. Rehan Sheikh portrayed the intricacies of a politician’s mind beautifully. He kept saying he’ll show his cards at the right time, only for them to backfire. The fear he was banking on was gone. The community stood up against him and so did his own son. A bit idealistic, but hopeful and that’s how change begins — from your own home.

Roshan, just like his name, lightened up the screen whenever he appeared. Mubashir Mehmood played the perfect bhateeja to Sajal Ali’s bua. The performances matched, the energies even more so, and Mustafa Afridi’s situations added meaning. Meenu telling Roshan that he needs to be brave in love instead of sneaky was a one she learnt herself later. Her little taunts at Roshan for not helping with household work was again not without purpose. Then, of course, the welcome beating created the perfect platform for Meenu and Dr. Nofil’s journey.

Saga bhateeja (Mubashir Mehmood) and Bua (Sajal Ali) giving death stare to taang pe taang rakh kar betha hua Dr. Nofil.

We all laughed aloud when Nofil took a step back when he saw Meenu approaching him with a stick, only to draw a line to explain Karachi’s infamous pull ke iss-paar-uss-paar phenomenon in Kesarkalan’s setting.

Afzal chacha, with his cycle and world war stories, had a character growth Emily Henry heroes can only dream of. The love to hate trope of Afzal Chacha and Nofil is for the history books along with Ali Tahir’s masterclass performance.

Afzal Chacha was maybe the only character in ZPKB with an arc. The rest stayed put in their snuggly spots.

The writer can argue that the story began when all the characters had matured and personalities rarely change unless you undergo a trauma. So, the only growth we saw was in Afzal Chacha and Nasreen when they experienced Rani’s pain and consequent death. Afzal accepted the need for a proper doctor in the village and Nasreen became fearless.

If our popular shows are anything to go by, then we love a good transformation, a time leap, and some accidental weddings leading to a halal romance. Zard Patton Ka Bunn had none of that. We kept expecting Meenu and Dr. Nofil to be “forcefully” married after the allegation of Malik Nadir and his hype man, but they waited and waited and we waited and waited until Meenu herself opened her heart to her father and he…agreed to marry them both amicably.

We were robbed of the most coveted TRP-inducing wedding related drama. We were also robbed of the wedding.

My mother is the most upset. She came into my room this Sunday to proclaim, “Zard Patton acha drama nahi tha”. Imagine my surprise because it was she who would come unravelling her namaz ka dupatta every Sunday sharp at 9:10pm and do me a favour by saying, “Bulao sab ko dekh hi letay hain drama.” A curious me, looking for honest critique, asked the reason and in came a prompt, “Shaadi hi nahi dikhayi kisi ki. Maza hi nahi aya.”

I was speechless.

I told her that wasn’t the purpose of the drama. The purpose was education and emancipation, that’s why they showed her convocation instead. She angrily replied, “Sirf parhai maqsad nahi hota, shaadi bhi karni hoti hai.”

“Tabhi to woh Maimoona Nofil thi convocation ke time. Shaadi bhi karli sab ne,” I had to reiterate.

We shall shamelessly avoid the change of name post marriage debate at this point and move on.

A month back, our unassuming (not really) selves witnessed the biggest haw-haye moment of the year.

Our beloved Meenu didn’t just fall off the wall, but also the pedestal we had put her on. Why are our female leads doing this to us? Sneaking off into the night and exhibiting such forward behaviour asking Nofil, “Mein aap ke baal choo sakti hoon?”

Scandalous!

We tch-tch-ed on the front, but smiled inwardly. Because as Sadaf our genius puts it, “hamara culture hamara miyan hai.” A good girl is one who must be miserable while finding a suitable boy and then continue to be miserable because the suitable boy didn’t turn out to be suitable.

Those are the majority of our stories; and if any character dwindles they face assassination of the highest order. Poor Andaleeb is facing the consequences in the neighbouring Jaffa. All she did was, love a boy…and break her father’s trust. So her father decided to break her.

That’s decided then Meenu is not a good girl. But Meenu is thriving in her personal and professional life. Toh phir girls, ZPKB se humne kya seekha?

No, not to elope in the middle of the night. That is extremely unsafe and not a stunt you pull unless in a fictional setting under the careful guidance of Saif e Hasan. We learnt to be brave, but not foolish, and if you make a mistake then share it with a loved one you can trust instead of carrying the burden alone and unleash a frightening domino effect.

This brings us to the said loved ones, who often in our society are absent or aggressive.

In any village, the biggest threat you can give to someone is, “ke hum tumhari izzat uchaal denge”. Izzat is everything. That’s why we associate honour killing with our rural areas the most. Through Bhoora and Malik Nadir’s interaction we saw how one can avoid killings. By trusting your children and standing by them. Even if they’ve done anything wrong, you reprimand them in person instead of making a public spectacle and involving the entire village and even siblings who might misstep.

In Meenu’s case, her brothers were quite capable of carrying out the heinous act, but Mustafa Afridi showed how once her community (Sartaj chachi) and second time her father’s support saved her life.

She did get a good scolding from chachi but only after de-escalating the situation.

Anyone who has any links to a village would be privy to such horror stories. We would go on vacation and find a girl living with one of the relatives until the community decided how to calm the parties involved. The matters are either settled with money or marrying the girl to an older person who is willing to protect her. And in most of these cases, the victims are actually two consenting adults who are not allowed to marry, and threatened to be killed. In recent times, honour killings have gone down, in our village at least, because now paying a hefty sum can save your life, which is probably why ZPKB didn’t go down that route.

There is also a misconception that village girls are shy and not daring.

In my experience, they are more daring than all of us combined because they feel they have nothing to lose. We, in the city, care more about propriety or being spotted at a cafe with someone we shouldn’t be spotted with. It’s an open field (pun intended) out there and they take full advantage of it.

Like Meenu did to us romantics’ great delight. But she also didn’t step into the room when Nofil casually suggested, “andar aao” THAT night, to us self proclaimed righteous aunties’ even greater delight. It was interesting how my mother was more accepting of Meenu’s escapade than us sisters. While we got scandalised, she smiled and recalled how one of the girls she knew placed a shovel on her charpai and ran off with someone she loved. The girl was pretty and was getting married forcefully.

No one knows what fate that girl met, but Mustafa Afridi’s Meenu and Nasreen showed us that never giving up can define your fate. The words we hear so often, but do we practise them with the zeal Meenu did?

Walking for hours to reach the college. Waiting years until a secondary school opened close by. Willing to let go of Nofil too if he didn’t agree to her stipulations. Meenu never gave up on her dream.

And our dream man Dr. Nofil joined her midway as a pillar of strength…along with his unnerving moustache. Hamza Sohail first impressed me in Raqeeb Se. Going from a douche in Bee Gul’s lovely story and a prince charming in Fairytale to a level-headed Dr. Nofil in Zard Patton Ka Bunn, Hamza makes his presence felt. Him crying to his father or smiling proudly at Meenu after she narrates her last letter, he has the ability to conquer the silent moments as well as monologues that sound like honest outpour of feelings and not dialogues written on a piece of paper.

It is safe to say, Mustafa Afridi brings out the best in Sajal Ali.

She lived Meenu and not once did we feel she was acting (except maybe when she delivered that ad message we referred to above and when she cried loudly under the tree). We last felt that with Chammi in Aangan and as she breezed through Shanaya, Rabia, and Aaliya, we kept waiting patiently for the artistry we know she is capable of.

We can criticise the lack of Seraiki accent and overdose of highlighter, but I rarely noticed that when Meenu came on screen. Her polished Urdu was also more visible because the rest of our actors in ZPKB hail from Punjab and have that twang any way. Ali is mesmerising on screen and once you spot her you don’t press skip. Her presence commands your attention and her true strength lies in her ability to deliver dialogues differently for each character. From the calm sadness in Momina’s tone and the street smartness and exasperation in Aaliya’s to the optimism of Meenu — if you close your eyes and listen to Ali’s characters, you will certainly be able to tell them apart. Not many actors can infuse feelings and personality of the character in their voice.

Here’s to hoping Sajal Ali continues to deliver dramas that we can enjoy for years to come.

A small critique for her would be to take on a character role and not your (not so) regular, strong woman next. We have seen greats like Saba Qamar and Fawad Khan, fall in the trap of delivering and nailing those subtle, close-to-reality characters, but as an actor we wish to see them get creative and push those boundaries. A large chunk of the audience might resist, but the willingness to take up challenges is what separates a star from a true artist.

And true artists are who don’t shy away from making a Zard Patton Ka Bunn. A calming drama devoid of your regular shenanigans to hook you — except maybe romance — it isn’t a show you watch once and then never revisit or think about later.

You can suggest it to friends confidently without giving disclaimers like, “Supporting actors ko skip karlena, cliches ko bhi ignore karna, bas chemistry enjoy karna, and don’t think too deeply”.

The only thing you might warn them about is to not quit watching after Nadia falsely accuses Dr. Nofil of harassment. That scene put me off and could have been avoided because it was quickly brushed off when Meenu explained the consequences of falsely accusing someone on real victims to the nadaan Nadia.

Zard Patton Ka Bunn depicts certain stereotypes of our society and then counters them and gives us hope with bravery, empathy, and a heavy dose of idealism. Do watch it if you haven’t and while we are not the primary target audience of their messages, we do deserve to smile giddily at the poetic romance and humorous unpredictability highlighted through use of three beautiful ghazals and two OSTs.

If you wish to read my old reviews, please head here.