Theatrics. This word sums up Bashar Momin and we’re only on the second episode.
I could start by listing everything that’s bad and perhaps do the same for everything that’s good. If that’s what you’re looking for I suggest you go somewhere else. Kyun? Well, for starters, writing a review is not always about listing things, this isn’t a lecture and you’re not taking notes. Writing, they say, is an art, and my reviews talk about someone else’s masterpiece, thus, the least I can do is be fair to their efforts.
And it’s in all fairness that I say Bashar Momin is like a Bollywood film. It’s colourful, it’s bold, it’s innovative and unique, there are new actors (Ushna Shah) and old ones in roles that we didn’t think they could do (Maheen Rizvi), the story is far removed from our obsession with mazloom aurats and gharayloo sadeeshain, even the scale at which things come across is large and grand (what with three butlers serving food!). Yet, I’m not impressed but that doesn’t mean I’m not curious to know what happens next.
If we want a story-strong, character-driven drama, then we won’t find it here. And that’s okay. Not every single drama series has to be the torch bearer for Urdu adab.
What I see in Bashar Momin is aspiration. Aspiration for a glitzy, glammy, showbiz industry on-par with it’s regional cousin (read: rival). A momentary glance will tell you that Bashar’s screaming-shouting disposition is inspired by Vikram from Chotti Bahu or Sahira’s teekhi aadayeen are courtesy of Komolika from Kasautii Zindagii Kay. Elsewhere the aaleeshan bangla (with palm trees and mediterranean roofs!) is symptomatic of Ishq-e-Mamnoon. Even the clothes and jewellery are a sign of changing domestic tastes. There’s no arguing that our dramas are inspired by external factors but that inspiration simultaneously leads us to look beyond our borders.
What we have here is a drama that is being catered to a wider television viewing audience and not necessarily one that is just Pakistani, Indian, or Bangladeshi.
This episode is proof of this two-way exchange. Ushna’s dramatic Paro-esque jaunt from the bedroom to the staircase coupled with oh-so-dramatic music – all aaahs and uuuhs – leads us to the maiyat where we see Sahira in a red dupatta (seriously at your father-in-law’s funeral?!). As though Ushna hadn’t been through enough grief we’re reminded that Buland is not the right match for her, and this time around by mohallay wali Aunties too!
Sahira, I find, is hiding a deeper, darker secret. One that stems from insecurity, the same insecurity that plagues Tayyaba, of a khandani, sharif man not valuing her as is evident from the sisters’ conversation. In true naya pasia fashion, it is all about being weighed in gold here!
What I absolutely loved about this episode was Faysal Quraishi’s eye for detail. As he walks in on his sister crying he sends his niece and the manservant out of the room before screaming his lungs out at her. This, my friends, is khandani contrary to what the Bashar Momin team would like us to believe. I think Bashar’s character is tarnished by his illegal ventures combined with an angry demeanour, otherwise his manners (at least around his sisters) are rather impeccable.
For Bashar, the main problem stems from an inability to fulfil Tayyaba’s wish to get married, it has nothing to do with Salman or his family who just happen to be on the receiving end of his anger. Aadmi chahay jitna janglee kyun na ho bahan par gussa nahi nikal sakta.
Another scene that caught my attention (and was very well-shot) was the meal at Adil and Sahira’s house. They had it pat down to a T. Excellent lighting, perfect sets, the maid used as a prop (a bit out there agreed!), and the stressful family dynamics, all done without a lot of words.
The relationship between Adil and Rudaba is somewhat far fetched because I cannot fathom a hipster-haired Adil calling Rudaba “Beta” but hey that’s just me. On the other hand, Sahira seems to be speaking the same language as her brother especially when she tells Tayyaba that “You’re over-reacting”. I wonder who’s over-acting, then. Although I will say Bashar and Sahira make a good team!
As much as this is Bashar’s story, it is also Rudaba’s and we saw the first sparks of that relationship in another beautifully shot scene, even if over shadowed by Bashar’s screaming!
What I hope for next week is a bit more restraint for that will surely add to the story. Sometimes, as the say, things are best left unsaid, which is the strength of Urdu adab and by extension our dramas. The audience can read between the lines, give us a chance to do that with Bashar Momin.
Until next week,
Shaba Khair aur Rab Rakha.
RB (Tweet me!)
