Sher and the Silence of Our Regulators

Pakistan’s television dramas are powerful cultural mirrors. They shape public conversations, reinforce or challenge societal norms, and reflect the values, or lack thereof, held by regulators and creators. Yet with the release of Sher, one of the loudest questions remains glaringly unasked: Why was such a drama allowed to air in the first place?

The lack of pre‑air scrutiny, particularly regarding the drama’s visual echoes of a famous Bollywood scene, suggests two possibilities. Either the Pakistan Electronic Media Regulatory Authority (PEMRA) and the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting (MoIB) are unaware of subtler content issues, or regulatory frameworks lack the specificity to assess cultural and religious appropriateness before release. In the case of Sher, controversy ignited not because of overt content like violence or indecency, but due to aesthetic resemblance to a Bollywood blockbuster, something that oversight mechanisms appear ill‑equipped to flag.

In April 2025, the teaser for Sher drew widespread criticism when viewers noted that a gun standoff between the protagonists visually resembled a scene from the 2013 Bollywood film Goliyon Ki Raasleela Ram‑Leela. Comparisons were drawn between Sarah Khan’s look and Deepika Padukone’s attire, and critics accused the production of plagiarism. In response, Sarah Khan acknowledged the visual resemblance while insisting that the drama’s story is original.

Beyond the plagiarism debate, Sher also carries a religious subtext. One scene includes the line “Hum Syed nahi ban sakte kya?”, suggesting the protagonist’s family identity and hinting at a larger religious or class‑based tension. This gesture reflects an ongoing sensitivity in Pakistani media toward the portrayal of Syeds, who hold revered religious status in certain communities. Paradoxically, while the dialogue attempts an emotional appeal, regulatory bodies remained silent, even when religious symbolism was mobilized in emotionally charged narratives.

This pattern is not unique to Sher. Earlier in 2025, the drama Parwarish triggered controversy when a brief shot featured a poster with LGBTQ+ symbolism. Critics condemned it for allegedly promoting “foreign agendas” and undermining traditional values. The backlash included calls for cancellation, even though the scene lasted mere seconds. ARY Digital issued no official statement, and regulators remained absent from the discourse. Similarly, Mere Humsafar faced censure for a portrayal of Hindu funeral customs, with commentators decrying it as a betrayal of national culture.

These examples highlight a systemic issue. Drama can and should reflect cultural and religious values. Yet without formal guidelines, producers tread a risky middle ground between compelling storytelling and cultural misalignment. The religious undertones in Sher, mild compared to blasphemy or explicit content, still demonstrate how easily cultural offense can slip through. Audiences seeking reassurance from cultural guardians like PEMRA feel increasingly distrustful.

To bridge this gap, the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting should propose mechanisms that ensure dramas respect cultural and religious norms, avoid indirect plagiarism or visual appropriation, and reflect authentic narratives rather than recycled tropes. This is not to impose censorship but to cultivate cultural stewardship. A structured review board, informed by scholars, sociologists, and creative professionals, could vet early materials such as teasers for mimicry or discord. It could provide feedback to elevate originality, act as a mediator when controversies erupt, and create credible expectations for creators and viewers alike.

Such oversight should promote excellence rather than impose bans. Creators are deeply imaginative, and when guided by respect for cultural identity, they deliver impactful stories. Well-crafted originals resonate more deeply than borrowed imagery or sensational tactics.

Dramas like Sher generate buzz, yet they also risk backlash when audiences sense disregard for cultural authenticity. Smart oversight might prevent needless controversies, enhance public faith in content, and allow creators to proceed with clarity rather than responding after-the-fact to social media outrage.

In essence, the controversies around Sher were not rooted in threatening content, but in aesthetics and unspoken religious undertones. That such material passed review without challenge reflects less on creative freedom and more on regulatory inertia. A forward-looking approach by MoIB and PEMRA, grounded in dialogue, cultural sensitivity, and preemptive evaluation, could preserve cultural values while supporting strong storytelling. It is time for Pakistani drama to evolve from reactive regulation to proactive guardianship.