Without a trigger warning, drama characters are all too eager to take their own life
To be or not to be? It is not just a question for Hamlet. William Shakespeare’s most famous line of all contemplates the fine line between life and death – and some 400 years down the road, it is a question Pakistani drama characters in dire straits also find themselves grappling with.
Faithful drama watchers will be aware, of course, that when it comes to the distressed drama character, unlike Hamlet, it is far less likely that a random uncle will perish. Rather, it is themselves. Be it a woman scorned or a man spurned, drama characters are all too eager to entertain the notion of snuffing themselves out. Sometimes they succeed. At other times, their attempt at self-harm is thwarted, and those in their orbit hastily mend their wicked ways to avoid this happening again. Whatever the case may be, with nary a hint of a trigger warning, come times of crisis in television, suicide is all too eager to rear its ugly head – and this casual glorification of taking one’s life is the slipperiest of all slopes.
Things that kill
Let’s get one thing out of the way first: when it comes to Pakistani television screens and things that kill, trigger warnings most certainly exist. If they didn’t know it already, any drama buff will now be aware that smoking kills, because it is what we are informed whenever a character toys with a cigarette.
We need look no further than Adeel in Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum. Every time this troubled philanderer took a soothing drag during times of stress, a grave trigger warning was promptly ticker-taped across the bottom of the screen. And say what you will about Pakistani dramas compared to their Western counterparts, but the gangster lovers amongst you will be aware that Cillian Murphy’s Tommy Shelby in Peaky Blinders came with no such advisory measures. Of course, there is the very real matter that Tommy is far, far more devoted to his cigarettes than Adeel is. Tommy smokes as though cigarettes are tethering him to life. Had a warning been mandated by law, it would have more or less shared permanent screen space with Tommy, which would no doubt have irritated fans who prefer reading subtitles instead of warnings. When it comes to cigarettes, then, it would seem that the Pakistani showbiz industry has got itself covered. A tick mark for Adeel, a great big thumbs down for Tommy.
But as we know, smoking is not the only lethal behaviour bandied about on Pakistani screens. You could argue that taking one’s life has a higher death rate than smoking, particularly when it is so tantalisingly easy to trigger someone who is already vulnerable and is an avid TV watcher to boot. With or without trigger warnings, the wisdom of presenting it as a solution is questionable.
The acceptance of suicide
Unfortunately for anyone who appreciates the importance of robust mental health, suicide is a popular go-to solution for characters in shows that are watched by millions. Case in point: Jafaa. Here is a show that has been (rightly) praised for discussing taboo issues such as birth control, anger management, and seeking therapy. But a few episodes down the line, we bear witness to young mother Andleeb actively considering suicide – twice – without getting the counselling she needs. What message does this send? Where is the warning for someone watching this with children in the vicinity? Or for a viewer who has struggled with suicidal thoughts and finds themselves irrevocably triggered?
It may be borderline understandable if casual suicide was the prerogative of just one show, but of course, it is not just Andleeb in Jafaa. Back in 2011, Humsafar – a show that even a determined drama hater will know of – featured a woman resorting to suicide when she felt she had lost her man. Meanwhile, earlier this year, Murad, Noor Jahan’s son in the generational-trauma drama Noor Jahan, whips out a gun in times of despair and announces to his wife Noor Bano that he intends to shoot himself.
We do not see the immediate aftermath of this cliffhanger, but we are given enough information to deduce that Noor Bano does some damage control and Murad retracts his gun without anyone getting killed. The subtext could not be plainer: when you threaten to kill yourself, you may not suffer consequences, but you will be able to guilt people into taking you seriously. This was an episode that has received upward of 12 million views on YouTube alone. Repeated exposure breeds acceptance. Is this message – that a suicide attempt is a cure-all – something that should be so openly displayed to millions?
A dangerous pastime
A therapist who specialises in counselling Muslim women discussed this very trope with the Express Tribune on condition of anonymity. She is convinced that such a casual depiction of self-harm poses a threat to society at large.
“What they are doing is dangerous and irresponsible,” she maintains. “Studies have shown that even the word ‘suicide’ leads to an increase in suicide attempts. We should be using terms like ‘taking your life’. I don’t think they have researched into how suicide actually happens.”
When even the word itself can prove to be a trigger point, what sort of ramifications will watching such a desperate last resort splashed out on a screen have on someone who is already at risk? As Bismil, a drama currently airing shows, the ramifications have the potential to spiral out of control, particularly for viewers where therapy is not an option they can freely consider.
“I started watching Bismil because I am going through the same,” confides one viewer. “I wanted to see how Moosa would cope with his father’s second marriage. I’ve been triggered ever since I watched them show his suicide. I can’t go to a therapist and I am absolutely shattered.”
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