When the Churails trailer came out, it felt like it had encapsulated all of the nightmares of Pakistani men together in one short video: women in burkas fighting men, women swearing, women drinking, women smoking, women being unapologetic and most importantly, women being flawed and human and not parading around as Madonna’s or whores. After having watched the show, I can comfortably say that there were several artistic flaws but it definitely provided a much needed parallel discourse in the Pakistani media, and it should be celebrated for being a step in the right direction.  

The much needed Revolution

The most refreshing aspect for me was the fact that this show had an ensemble of female cast members and for once, tried to humanise the women of Pakistan. If one would try to understand the modern woman of Pakistan from a recent Pakistani film or drama, they will probably end up concluding that all women in Pakistan do is make tea for their husbands, weep about their lives or perform item songs in a crowd of lecherous men. The four Churails, on the other hand,  are anything but perfect, Sara is an elite politician’s wife who sways between saving other women and putting her family first, Jugnu struggles with alcoholism (which is thankfully not the reason she is empowered) Batool’s traumatic past keeps triggering her to make wrong decisions while Zubaida’s attempts to reconcile with her parents are naïve at times. There are also seven other mini Churails in the show which comprise of all sorts of women from all sorts of backgrounds: computer geeks, middle aged queer women, trans women, sex workers etc. These women are not altruistic, perfect superheroes who instinctively know what is right and wrong, rather they learn to explore the murky, moral complexities of trying to rescue wronged people in a landscape ridden with so much systematic discrimination. 

The inclusion of male characters like Shams, Dilbar and Inspector J. was also nothing less than refreshing- without falling into the stereotype of presenting working class men as violent and toxic, the show actually gave us memorable male characters who support and uplift their women as allies without any display of chauvinism or entitlement. The romantic relationship between Zubaida and Shams was not only heartwarming but also possibly one of the few instances of romance in our pop culture which is not toxic or based on unfair power dynamics. The acting done by each and every actor in the show, whether the main characters or the cameo appearances were also nothing short of being perfect. 

The breathtaking cinematography by Mo Azmi reinforces the dark and horror genre while capturing Karachi and Hyderabad on camera like never before. The art direction is nothing short of brilliant either, each detail from Jameel’s cavernous garden to Jugnu’s alcohol ridden shelves adds a layer of reality to the characters’ lives (Jameel’s obsession with gardening and his dramatic changes to the garden also foreshadow Mehek’s secret). The choice of songs is excellent- the fact that the makers of the show chose to represent indie musicians from Pakistan on a global platform is truly laudable. One of my most emotional parts of the show was when Meesha Shafi’s Mein played while Shams collapsed on the floor- the reminder of Meesha’s voice amidst a display of female helplessness and rage gave me goosebumps. 

There is also a lot of symbolism in every episode: the dress Meherbano wears alludes to the Red Riding Hood, the shot of steak being chewed in Ifti’s mouth foreshadows his predatory role in the Animal Club while Jameel’s obsessiveness with growing new plants is actually a cover up of  his attempt at snatching away  women’s motherhoods. The show is also one of the few shows from Pakistan which doesn’t have whitewashed female protagonists, for once brown skin is embraced and normalised.  

Whether the show succeeded in accurately representing the struggles of people from different marginalized backgrounds or not is another debate (and one I am not qualified to participate in), but it does manage to be intersectional– the plight of women is not limited to patriarchy or cheating husbands but also to classism, colorism, homophobia etc. As the CEO of Jalwa admits without any shame, existing as a woman in a capitalist patriarchy involves a lot of bargaining-often at the cost of other women. The biggest (and the most pleasant) shock for me was the inclusion of queer narratives in the show. The inclusion of the spunky trans woman, Baby Girl was a much needed step in an industry fond of hiring cis-het men for trans roles. I also loved the characters of the two queer lovers- they are the only queer characters in the show who remain unjudged and unharmed by society- because as ex-convicts away from their families and kin, their invisibility protects them. 

Some people have also argued that the show is homophobic, however I felt like the violence employed in episode four is to show Ehtesham’s character (played by the famous actor/director, Sarmad Khoosat) as a victim and not as a villain. Ehtesham is painted as a friendly, kind man who genuinely cares for his wife, but has no other choice than to betray her in a heteronormative society like Pakistan. However, the amount of camera time given to the gore in the fourth episode sensationalized the violence which was not needed and should have been avoided. Similarly, the homophobic remarks by Jugnu exist because she is shown to be a homophobic, classist and fat phobic woman who genuinely doesn’t start caring about others until the end of the show. 

The flaws

Despite it’s radicalism, like all shows-Churails is not perfect. The last five episodes look like they tried to archive every single issue marring the Pakistani society. The question of race which the writer attempts to deal with Jackson’s entry is not done justice to- rather, the whole idea of Jugnu agreeing to leave her husband because of her father is very inconsistent with her unapologetic and selfish character. Similarly, the imposition of the Jalwa Cream plot added nothing to the story other than what it was obviously made for-tackling colorism within the entertainment industry. There are also some parts of the script which do not accurately represent the reality in Pakistan. The kind of lingo Zubaida employs (Puta hai humko tum se love kyun hai) is not the kind of Urdu people in Pakistan speak but rather an Indianised version of it. Similarly, the act of possessing alcohol is illegal (and quite endangering) in Pakistan which means you can’t drink it openly on the road like some of the characters do. Also, contrary to what Sara argues, women in Pakistan don’t have divorce settlements-rather, they barely know they have the right to divorce. 

With that being said, does the show manage to keep you on the edge of your seat with its thrilling plot line -yes it does. Whether or not you enjoy it, it has to be admitted that this was a much needed step away from the tragedy porn we are witnessing on television right now. Let’s hope this only paves way for better content, opportunities and representation.