Precipice at the 20th – Mann UnMayal (Part 2)

Let us begin with the absurd, misguided, moronic Mann Mayal.

The last time I met Pyare Afzal, he called me auntie. The sixteen year-old inside me who had a monumental crush on Pyare plunged into an identity crisis.  Only after I watched some of his earlier work, like Merey Dard Ko Jo Zuban Miley, did I discover that Pyare was not always pyara.  In fact, he was quite the maila at one time; “rapist jaisa”, if expressed in the words of my goddess and idol, Social Butterfly.  That he has transformed himself into a delectable, edible dish is credit to his hard work and sound grooming tips from experts.   Now, whether he just hangs around on top of a container (yes, I know, so do all the rest), rants on FB about this or that, or unwisely - and ineffectively one might add - challenges communal intolerance on religious reality TV, in all avatars he’s pure, handspun, sparkling eye-candy (swooned, died and gone to eye-candy heaven).

Thus, it was offensive to witness eligible Salahuddin’s pitiful wooing of the poster child for inconsistency and helplessness and Hum TV’s Penelope Pittstop, Munnoo.    Over the thirty-plus episodes I could not fathom why Salahuddin was refused, he refused, Munnoo defied, she acquiesced, Mikail was charming, he was twisted, Munnoo was rich, she carried neither credit cards nor cash, Jeena seemed normal, she was psychopathic, Jameel was mild-mannered, he became vengeful, Amma was old-fashioned, she let her daughter stay for months with – technically – a “ghair mard”. Did I just hear someone ask “kya yeh khula tazaad nahin?”.

It was contradictory, irrational, implausible and arduous and, predictably, fell into the precipice around the 20th episode. Had it ended there, we would remain somewhat sympathetic towards Penelope and less disappointed that despite his pyara-ness, poor Pyare was finding no love.

But as in everything, there is some modest redemption. Despite repetition ad nauseum, the OST with QB’s striking vocals and Shuja Haider’s composition is notable. Production quality, which I find is Hum TV’s USP, must be commended.  Hum TV lives in cities where “androon shehr” streets are clean, lovelorn women run about in them fearlessly, and abundant power supply keeps havelis perpetually lit up. “Kidher, kahan, kaunsa?” I exclaim excitedly because it is a Pakistan I cannot recognize, but it is easy on the eyes and pleasant for the senses so I don’t protest. Maya Ali’s histrionics are a discovery and she seems to improve with every undertaking.  That she was dumped with a ultra-distressed damsel role is no fault of hers, although she may want to refuse the next which I am sure will come her way.  I feel senior performers, a combination of delight and disappointment. deserve honorable mention. Former because the ease with which they climb into a role is a treat to watch, and latter because towering talents like Saba Hamid, Naeem Tahir, Shehryar Zaidi and many more are so poorly utilized by directors and producers. I imagine if stories were developed with them as central characters they would be immensely watchable.

In the final verdict, I find it unpalatable that an educated woman who is a mother of two and hails from a financially comfortable background would ultimately display defeatist tendencies despite the spunk she portrayed earlier. Mann Mayal proved yet again that, with regard to women, the Pakistani psyche is stagnant water, now murky and exuding stench.  A woman must be redeemed either by a love interest, a father, or even a Jameel and she must be defined as a wife, mother, daughter, or beloved but never as just herself. Reality is different.  From time immemorial, women have been their own saviors and often their families’ as well.  Alternately, they have independently destroyed themselves too.  Either way, plenty of times they are masters of their own destiny, and this deserves representation on TV.

In this respect, little orphan Jeena emerges victorious. She is deceitful and vindictive, but she operates independently, relying on no one, expecting nothing….more woman than morbid Munnoo.

In the words of Anupama Chopra, “I go with minus two and a half stars”, It sucked.