The last episode of Pakistani drama ‘Tan Man Neel O Neel’ — a brave take on intolerance, misogyny and patriarchy — takes a dark turn as it sheds light on mob violence
In December 2021, a Sri Lankan national, who worked as a factory manager in Pakistan’s Sialkot, was lynched by a violent mob on suspicion of blasphemy. This is not an isolated incident. In Pakistan and India, there have been several instances of mob lynchings that have resulted in the deaths of innocent people. Social media platforms have often been used to spread misinformation and incite crowds. The Pakistani mini-drama series Tan Man Neel O Neel that recently concluded on Hum TV (February 15) has bravely gone where not many directors, writers or producers would dare to go, to bring us a drama that leaves us shaken.
A Sultana Siddiqui production, Tan Man Neel O Neel has been written by Mustafa Afridi and directed by Saife Hassan. Available on Hum TV’s YouTube channel, the show doesn’t exactly centre on the entire drama around mob violence but brings it up in the last few minutes of the last episode, a turn not many audiences expected, although there was some foreshadowing. The shock is heightened because there’s a lightness of touch through the early parts of the drama. In fact, it gives us plenty of moments throughout that leave us chuckling.
Aspirational Gen Z leads
Rabia Irum (played by Sehar Khan) is a chirpy and talented Gen Z girl who is convinced that social media is her ladder to success. Rabi, as she is called, lives in a neighbourhood in the older quarter of a Pakistani city, but could be from any small town in the subcontinent. She has her own vlog, which she calls RIP, an acronym she coins from her name, Rabia Irum Productions. This is a clever and well-thought-out touch by the makers, because it makes Rabi believable. She is aspirational and wants to be thought of as a smart person.
She meets Sonu ‘Danger’ (played by Shuja Asad), who is part of a dance troupe. Sonu is a well-raised youngster, who knows his place in the world and hopes that his talent will take him far. Rabi claims to have a “business model” and wants to start a partnership with Sonu and upload dance videos on social media platforms. Social media is an intuitive route for those who want to be seen, validated and appreciated. Social media is also a tool that democratises knowledge and gives people agency.
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Rabi is a brave girl who knows how to use the platforms at her disposal and create something — for the first time after interviewing Sonu, she sees three comments on her video and is thrilled. Rabi has tasted engagement and wants to scale it up. The drama is a great commentary on the digital age, with social media serving as a tool for both agency and misinformation. While social media can mirror our deepest dark insecurities, it can also offer us a way out of our own small worlds. For Rabi, social media is a chance to step out of her milieu and belong to a bigger world.
The Sonu-Rabi relationship is just one aspect of the drama, which has layers that unravel as it plays out. TMNoN talks about male sexual abuse, forced marriages, gender stereotypes, the patriarchy, and intimacy and relationships with a delicate and empathetic touch. Rabi’s mother, played with aplomb by Nadia Afghan, yearns to be seen, acknowledged and loved by her husband. Rabi herself pines to bridge the gap between her and her distant father. The father, Ehsaan, (played by Nauman Masood), with a backstory of his own, is incapable of loving or being loved because of his own guilt — he has blood on his hands.
Sonu’s mother Farah, played by Sammiya Mumtaz, is a dancer and has raised her son single-handedly. The mother-son relationship is easy – there are no expectations and they are like good friends. Similarly, Rabi and her mother, Mehnaaz, also share an easy camaraderie — they are partners who have each other’s back in an ecosystem where there may not be overt oppression or abuse, but there is a conspiracy of silence.
Pawns in a political game of chess
Rabi and Sonu soon become pawns in a game of political one-upmanship. Sonu’s friend, who goes by the nickname Moon (Ali Ammar), the manager of the dance troupe, is sexually abused by a small-time politician and businessman (Saleem Mairaj). This news is then used by another politician (a cameo by the director himself) to strengthen his vote bank. Rabia’s cousin Kami (actor Usman Javed) is a small-time protester for hire, and a key player in this game of one-upmanship. He is an opportunist and wants to make the most of the issue.
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He also wants to marry Rabi, his cousin, and is therefore unhappy with her collaboration with dancer Sonu. The collaboration soon turns into a romance, with the parents also giving their nod. That’s when a desperate Kami comes up with a desperate plan: to set the mob against Sonu and Rabi. When Kami deliberately paints Sonu’s dance clip in the backdrop of a domed structure as offensive (when it is, in fact, just a house) and gathers a crowd, there’s no stopping them. The mob consumes everyone — from the one who triggers the lynching to the innocent pawns in this grand power play.
What you are left with are the visuals of Rabi’s footprint, her bright pink dupatta strewn on a narrow street, Sonu’s bright patterned jacket dangling from the wires overhead, the rhythmic jingling of ghungroo as Rabi runs, and a deep sense of sadness. Tan Man Neel O Neel’s great strength is in juxtaposing colour and mirth with the heartbreak that unfolds in the end. The closing credits include a montage of images of real-life victims of mob violence, including the tragic lynching of two teenage boys in Sialkot in 2010 over allegations of theft.
Rabi, Sonu, Moon, Ehsaan, Kami and his father may have been fictional characters but for 11 episodes, they were living, breathing, laughing, talking people who were part of our lives. What then of the many real men, women and children in our midst whose dreams were snuffed out in no time? Mere death toll numbers on our news tickers?
