One of the most commendable aspects of India’s socio-cultural landscape is its strategic use of cinema as a tool for narrative-building and social transformation. Whenever Indian society confronts a pressing social issue, the film industry often steps forward to translate complex realities into compelling stories that resonate with the masses. Films such as Toilet: Ek Prem Katha and Pad Man exemplify how popular cinema can successfully mainstream taboo subjects and catalyse public discourse on deeply rooted social problems.
Recently, I watched an Indian film titled Haqq, featuring Yami Gautam and Emraan Hashmi in leading roles. The film handles the sensitive issue of divorce with remarkable nuance, balance, and ethical responsibility. Rather than sensationalising the subject, the filmmakers approach it as a socio-legal dilemma, presenting the emotional, moral, and legal dimensions with sensitivity and restraint. This cinematic experience prompted an inevitable question: why does Pakistani media rarely undertake such courageous and socially responsible storytelling on issues that directly affect women and marginalised communities?
Pakistan’s film and drama industry undeniably possesses immense creative potential, yet it often shies away from substantively addressing sensitive socio-legal themes. Our mainstream narratives frequently prioritise commercial appeal over social responsibility, leaving critical issues such as women’s legal rights, domestic violence, unlawful polygamy, and access to justice largely unexplored in meaningful ways.
There is an urgent need for Pakistani directors, producers, and content creators to move beyond conventional storylines and invest in informative, research-based cinema that can raise awareness, challenge stereotypes, and empower citizens with legal knowledge.
This urgency becomes even more pronounced in light of a recent landmark judgement by the Supreme Court of Pakistan, which has significantly clarified the legal framework governing women’s rights in marital disputes. In a historic ruling, the Court unequivocally held that a woman’s divorce petition cannot be converted into khula without her explicit consent. Moreover, it reaffirmed that a husband who contracts a second marriage without the consent of his first wife or the approval of the Arbitration Council is liable to face both civil and criminal consequences.
Cinema and television are not merely instruments of entertainment; they are potent vehicles of social education and normative change
The judgement was delivered by a two-member bench headed by Chief Justice of Pakistan Justice Yahya Afridi, with Justice Musarrat Hilali authoring the opinion. In the case of Naila Javed vs Nasir Khan, the Supreme Court set aside the judgments of the Family Court and the Peshawar High Court (Abbottabad Bench), directed the husband to pay Rs1.2 million as unpaid dower (mehr), and dissolved the marriage based on talaq rather than khula.
The Court further observed that an unlawful second marriage, failure to provide maintenance, and attempts to malign the character of the wife legally constitute cruelty. Under such circumstances, a woman’s refusal to live with her husband cannot be construed as disobedience. Anchoring its reasoning in the Dissolution of Muslim Marriages Act, 1939 (DMMA) and the Muslim Family Laws Ordinance, 1961 (MFLO), the Court affirmed that women are legally entitled to seek dissolution of marriage if their husbands violate statutory requirements governing polygamy.
Beyond its immediate legal implications, this judgement carries profound socio-political significance. It is not merely a judicial precedent but a powerful narrative that can reshape public understanding of women’s rights within Pakistan’s legal and cultural framework. However, judicial pronouncements alone cannot transform social attitudes unless they are translated into accessible narratives that reach ordinary citizens.
Here lies the critical role of media. Cinema and television are not merely instruments of entertainment; they are potent vehicles of social education and normative change. If Pakistani filmmakers and dramatists were to engage seriously with such landmark legal developments, they could bridge the gap between law and society, empower women with knowledge of their rights, and foster a culture of legal accountability.
India has demonstrated that cinema can function as an agent of social reform. The question now confronting Pakistan is whether its media industry is prepared to embrace a similar responsibility. It is time to move beyond melodrama and commercial clichés and to recognise storytelling as a form of civic intervention. Court judgements must not remain confined to legal texts and elite discourse; they must be transformed into narratives that inform, inspire, and ultimately transform society.
Until Pakistani media rises to this challenge, the promise of legal reform will remain incomplete, and the voices of countless women will continue to echo unheard.