A new Pakistani show, Tan Man Neelo Neel, has been lauded, and deservedly so, for its nuanced yet powerful portrayal of mob violence, patriarchy, male entitlement, and its critique of blasphemy. While a show created and set in Pakistan, it resonates with Indian realities as well, especially in times when mob violence and the weaponisation of religion to instigate and justify such violence is at a fever pitch. The show, in reflecting Indian realities in its depiction of Pakistani far-right extremism, forces Indian viewers to reckon with the fact that the extremism we are quick to recognise and acknowledge in the subcontinent plagues our own country.
The show, in reflecting Indian realities in its depiction of Pakistani far-right extremism, forces Indian viewers to reckon with the fact that the extremism we are quick to recognise and acknowledge in the subcontinent plagues our own country.
Starring Sehar Khan and Shuja Asad in lead roles, Tan Man Neelo Neel follows a young woman, Rabiya (Khan), who aspires to find fame online through her YouTube channel in the hopes of breaking free from the trappings of patriarchal control, and a male dancer, Sonu (Asad), who has to confront prejudice because of his choice of profession in a patriarchal, gendered society. At the heart of the show are the themes of mob violence, blasphemy, extremism, and patriarchal control. It also touches upon important issues of sexual violence against men, the weight of gendered expectations, and female solidarity.
Apart from its essential and timely choice of themes, what is perhaps the most delightful part of the show is that none of the characters are caricatures. All the characters are well-flushed out with a great deal of nuance to them, and no character is just one thing. And in refusing to caricaturise its characters, the show delivers an even more powerful message about how all of us can be vulnerable to the dangers posed by mob mentality – both as potential victims of it and its perpetrators. Reflecting the unfortunate realities of not just Pakistan but the subcontinent, Tan Man Neelo Neel is not just an effective cautionary tale but also an education in the dangers of political and religious extremism and the far-ranging consequences of patriarchal control and entitlement.
Mob violence and the weaponisation of religion in Tan Man Neelo Neel
The show opens with a dance performance during a college fest, interspersed with scenes of a group of armed men doing a corrupt politician’s bidding and rioting on the streets and clashing with the police. The show, in the run-up to its finale, manages these moments of lightness and darkness well and maintains an easy, hopeful atmosphere throughout its run, despite the intense themes. And this is what works incredibly well to not only catch the audience off guard during the last few moments of the show when the story culminates in a mob lynching but also perfectly displays the sudden provocation and unpredictable escalation of violence when mobs are involved.
The petty non-reason for the mob’s anger parallels how real-life mob violence often stems from nothing and is a product of ulterior socio-political motives that have little to do with whatever has captured and catalysed the mob’s anger. Rabiya’s cousin, Kami (played by Usman Javed), incites a mob into attacking Sonu after Rabiya decides to marry him, rejecting Kami’s advances.
Rabiya’s cousin, Kami (played by Usman Javed), incites a mob into attacking Sonu after Rabiya decides to marry him, rejecting Kami’s advances.
During a dance performance by Sonu and his friend, Moon, at a wedding organised by Rabiya’s event management company, Kami storms in with a group of armed men and shows a clip of Sonu dancing in front of an old house, which he claims is a holy religious site. He appeals to the people gathered for the wedding to teach Sonu a lesson for defiling a sacred religious site and to protect their faith.
The final scene cuts between this fictitious mob lynching and the pictures of victims of real-life mob violence in Pakistan, reminding viewers that while the show is a work of fiction, the themes depicted in it are rooted in reality. Kami’s deliberate inciting of the mob for his personal goals with appeals of protecting their faith reflects how mob violence often plays out in Pakistan, where allegations of blasphemy have cost lives, and even reflects how Hindutva mob violence unfolds in India, where political goals are obfuscated behind claims of threats to Hinduism and the need to ‘protect’ the faith.
The mob, incited by Kami, not only attacks and kills Sonu but also causes the deaths of Rabiya, her father, Moon, and Kami’s father. But an important aspect of the depiction of the mob in the show is that they are utterly ordinary men. Most of the men were guests at the wedding who didn’t set out to cause anyone’s death, but matters escalated so quickly, that these men surrendered their own judgment and reason to a collective mob mindset and are overtaken by the desire to right a wrong without stopping to judge whether any wrong has been committed in the first place. While these men don’t see themselves as killers or even necessarily set out to kill, they are killers nonetheless, which is why Tan Man Neelo Neel is such a remarkable cautionary tale not just against mob violence but against mob mentality.
While these men don’t see themselves as killers or even necessarily set out to kill, they are killers nonetheless, which is why Tan Man Neelo Neel is such a remarkable cautionary tale not just against mob violence but against mob mentality.
This is not to suggest in the least that each member of a mob doesn’t hold accountability for their actions and that they aren’t responsible for subscribing to harmful ideologies and beliefs that drive them to such violence; Tan Man Neelo Neel‘s message isn’t that, either. While the show ends with the mob lynching and doesn’t get into the psychology of the mob or where accountability lies or how it should be distributed, it portrays the perils of flirting with dangerous and reactionary ideas, such as blasphemy, and placing religious beliefs above the lives of actual people.
The costs of male entitlement
Apart from its remarkable portrayal of mob violence, the show also expertly depicts male entitlement with great depth. The show’s fatal end is as much a result of such entitlement as it is a result of mindless mob violence. Two of the show’s major tragedies, set decades apart, are a direct result of entitled men playing judge, jury, and executioner because they were unable to exert control over the women in their lives to further their own ends.
Tan Man Neelo Neel displays male entitlement not only in its everyday forms – patriarchal control –but also in its most extreme manifestation – violence. Everyday consequences of male entitlement are best encapsulated in the storyline revolving around Rabiya’s mother, Mehnaaz, who is subjected to patriarchal control at the hands of her husband, Ehsan.
But Ehsan’s sense of entitlement not only leads to him controlling Mehnaaz, it also drove Ehsan to murder decades earlier. Sonu’s mother, Farah, is revealed to be Ehsan’s former partner, who broke things off with him after Ehsan refused to allow her to continue her work as a dancer, citing dishonour to his family. A week after Farah marries Sonu’s father, Ehsan, in a jealous rage, kills him.
The mob lynching is also a consequence of the entitlement Kami feels over Rabiya and especially the material comforts marrying her would afford him in Tan Man Neelo Neel. Kami’s motivations to marry Rabiya lie in acquiring her father’s shop for its real estate value. While Ehsan’s motivations with Farah are emotion-driven, both men, in the end, commit violence because the women they wanted to marry refused them. Male entitlement costs women, and the show explores this in different ways throughout the run of the show.
Male entitlement costs women, and the show explores this in different ways throughout the run of the show.
In the first episode of Tan Man Neelo Neel, Mehnaaz is moved to tears when Ehsan thanks her for making his favourite meal. Mehnaaz laments how she has spent the better part of her life labouring over the stove for her husband, yet this is the first time he has ever acknowledged her or the value of her work. Her husband’s sense of entitlement to such labour made her work invisible and her world so small that it was limited to a cycle of performing labour in desire of some recognition or acknowledgement and performing more labour failing such recognition.
Ehsan also does other things that may seem small, or even normal, in a patriarchal context but disempower and infantilise Mehnaaz nonetheless. He picks all her clothes for her, arranged their daughter’s marriage without consulting with her, and trapped her in a loveless marriage.
The show does a phenomenal job of portraying how male entitlement, in its most ordinary or extraordinary forms, costs women dearly and often costs them their lives. Kami’s sense of entitlement costs Rabiya her life by leading to her death, while Ehsaan’s crime costs Farah the life she desired and also costs Mehnaaz a good, fulfilling life.
Female solidarity in the face of patriarchy
In Tan Man Neelo Neel, Rabiya’s mother, Mehnaaz, lives a very small life between endless housework and a husband who barely acknowledges her or anything she does. Mehnaaz has no respite from patriarchal control or expectations. However, instead of internalising the sexism and misogyny around her and perpetrating a toxic cycle of forcing compliance with patriarchal frameworks and values onto her daughter, Rabiya’s mother encourages her to break free from the trappings of the patriarchy the best she can by being self-reliant and financially independent to avoid being beholden to a man.
Rabiya’s relationship with her mother, for this reason, subverts convention. They are friends more than anything else. Her mother, instead of seeing herself as a patriarchal authority figure, sees herself only as an ally. Because Mehnaaz has to deal with the control patriarchal and gendered expectations exert upon her, she refuses to subject Rabiya to the same and seeks no control over her daughter, even when she transgresses the ideas of respectability or feminity her mother has internalised.
The quiet solidarity between Mehnaaz and Rabiya makes for a refreshing and radical portrayal of a South Asian mother-daughter relationship on-screen.
The quiet solidarity between Mehnaaz and Rabiya makes for a refreshing and radical portrayal of a South Asian mother-daughter relationship on-screen. This theme of female solidarity is also the crux of the relationship between Mehnaaz and Farah. Even though the better part of Mehnaaz’s life has revolved around her husband, she doesn’t hesitate to give him up following his admission of killing Farah’s husband.
Mehnaaz immediately confesses to Farah, knowing she deserves to know, and even encourages Farah to contact the police or do whatever it takes for her idea of justice to be served. Mehnaaz stands by this stranger and supports her, not because she’s trying to atone on her husband’s behalf but because she feels a sense of solidarity towards a fellow woman.
Tan Man Neelo Neel is a beautifully crafted tale that celebrates female solidarity and defiance while exploring and denouncing the ills of patriarchy, male entitlement, mob violence, and the weaponisation of religion that plague the subcontinent. The show is an important watch in our times of increasing extremism and rising violence, and the importance and intensity of its message are not limited by national borders. Whatever one takes away from the show, it’s inarguably radical, refreshing, and must-watch viewing.
All eleven episodes of the show can be found on YouTube.
About the author(s)
Akshita Prasad is a 21-year-old who intends to pursue a career in criminal law. She is currently pursuing an undergraduate degree in Social Sciences. She has been identifying as a feminist since the age of thirteen and has been writing about it since; she also writes about law, politics, pop culture, and the LGBTQIA+ community. If not writing or reading, she's scouring Netflix for a new TV show to watch or is on her millionth re-run.
