I'm Every Woman

Making my way back on my daily commute from university to home, ear phones plugged in and proceeding to zone out from the humdrum of the city. I scrolled through my Facebook newsfeed and stopped momentarily on an article on Robin Wright’s demand for equal pay for acting in the critically acclaimed series, House of Cards. In good timing, Chaka Khan ‘s ‘I’m Every Woman’ proceeded to play on my Spotify playlist and this immediately struck a chord with me.

Growing up, as a female, you would imagine that equality was embedded in our society from the outset. However, as the years go on and you slowly start noticing the minor things that differentiate between the genders. Perhaps the time when you completed a set of allocated chores but received a sum significantly less than what your male sibling received. Perhaps the time you worked at a café as a waitress and came to discover the boss was paying you significantly less to your male colleague. Or even perhaps even the time you were in a playground and proceeding to go down the slide, only to be interrupted by a boy and told to go after him.

Simply, because he was a male.

The Taming of Mann Mayal- A Law Student’s Perspective

It’s an epidemic that’s engrossed every household in Pakistan. Mothers and girls alike sit in anticipation every week. It’s captivated the minds and hearts alike of Pakistani’s across the globe. It’s left us in tears, fits of laughter or simply spellbound at times.

Unfortunately, I’m not talking about lawn fever. I’m referring to HUM TV’s extraordinaire drama, Mann Mayal. A drama to be applauded and commended for it’s stellar performances, somewhat laudable characterisation and that’s about it for myself.

That’s right, Mann Mayal could have been much more and unfortunately it remains that for this instance. The drama has taken a perilous road and does not seem that it intends to reverse anytime soon. The drama has openly invited unethical, borderline criminal behaviour elements to the story development and they’ve clearly overstayed their welcome.

My concern remains with the depiction of the male protagonist, the self-made, over-zealous Devdas akin figure pining for his love lost, Salahuddin. I’m really not sure whether the writers are aware of the domino effect that this may in turn have on our Pakistani society. Let me get this straight, you’re actually telling me it’s okay that I pursue my love despite the fact that she’s married and a mother to two children, it’s okay that I follow her every move, it’s okay that I ask my office employee to disguise himself as help and keep an eye on her on my behalf, it’s okay that I pose as a baba jee (elderly wise man) over social media?

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