Written by: Hurmat Majid
Posted on: May 07, 2025 | 
Faysal Qureshi and Hina Afridi in Raja Rani
HUM Television’s latest primetime offering, Raaja Rani, arrived with considerable fanfare and an impressive cast lineup. Directed by Amin Iqbal and written by Sana Zafar, the drama promised an emotionally charged love story set against the backdrop of class divides, mental trauma and familial greed. At first glance, Raaja Rani had all the ingredients for a compelling serial: a leading star returning to an intense, challenging role, a rich-versus-poor dynamic ripe for drama and the gloss of big-budget production. Yet, despite its glossy exterior, Raaja Rani has stumbled early on, weighed down by implausible storytelling, exaggerated performances, and a surprising lack of narrative depth.
Javed Sheikh, Kaisar Nizamani and Faysal Qureshi
At the heart of the drama is the character played by Faysal Quraishi, a powerful business magnate who suffers a life-altering accident. The trauma leaves him mentally regressed to the emotional and cognitive level of a young child, though he still legally retains control over his vast business empire. His condition forces his opportunistic family to treat him delicately, knowing that his signature still controls their lifestyle. Easily triggered by loud sounds, he escapes his home one day after a sudden horn sends him into a panic, leading him to wander into a lower-income neighborhood. There, he meets Rani (played by Hina Afridi), a spirited and a kind young woman who instantly connects with him, not for his wealth or status, but for his vulnerability. This chance encounter becomes the foundation of an unlikely romance, one that will inevitably ruffle feathers in his elite family, especially when the specter of marriage and inheritance looms large.
Salma Zafar and Arez Ahmed
On paper, the concept sounds like a risky but intriguing premise. But Raaja Rani quickly begins to unravel when you examine its foundation more closely. The most glaring issue is the medical plausibility of Faysal’s character’s condition. While fiction certainly allows for creative liberties, the show portrays a form of trauma-induced regression that borders on fantastical. The idea that an adult could experience a complete and sustained cognitive regression to a child's mental age, while retaining legal and financial authority, motor coordination, memory and selective speech, is medically indefensible. In reality, such specific and functional regression simply does not occur in the way the drama portrays. The show doesn't even attempt to ground his condition in a known neurological disorder; it just asks viewers to accept the transformation at face value, which becomes harder to do with each episode.
Then comes the acting, another area where Raaja Rani disappoints. Faysal Quraishi, usually a reliable and nuanced performer, swings between infantilized expressions and exaggerated gestures that feel more caricature than character. His portrayal lacks the emotional layering needed to evoke sympathy or make viewers believe in the trauma he's supposedly enduring. Hina Afridi’s Rani has moments of charm but too often slips into melodrama. Her dialogue delivery is inconsistent and lacks the quiet strength her character is meant to project. Veteran actor Javed Sheikh, as a manipulative family elder, turns in a performance that feels forced and theatrical. Arez Ahmed and Haris Waheed, playing the scheming younger generation, rely on familiar tropes and overplay their roles with sneers and snarls that feel ripped from a daytime soap. The cast as a whole seems trapped in a heightened style of performance that robs the story of its potential emotional weight.
Hina Afridi And Rashid Farooqi
Strip away the central conceit of the male lead's mental condition, Raaja Rani reveals itself to be a surprisingly ordinary story. At its core, it’s another iteration of the age-old “rich man falls in love with poor girl” formula, one we've seen countless times in Pakistani television. What initially seems like a bold narrative choice (a mentally regressed mogul falling in love with a street-smart girl) quickly morphs into a predictable tug-of-war between love and wealth, complete with scheming relatives, inheritance disputes and class prejudice. If the story had committed to exploring the psychological journey of its protagonist with sensitivity and realism or even tackled his recovery arc with emotional depth, it might have stood apart. But in its current form, the drama leans too heavily on its gimmick and offers little else in the way of freshness.
On the production side, things are decent, but only just. The visuals are polished, the wardrobe reflects the class dynamics well and the soundtrack is pleasant, if unremarkable. Scenes are competently shot, with a few nicely composed frames that elevate the mood. But good production can only take a story so far. With the writing and acting pulling in the opposite direction, even the best lighting or music can't salvage the sinking tone. There is a noticeable disconnect between the visual elegance of the drama and the juvenile, often implausible, events unfolding on screen.
Javed Sheikh and Faysal Qureshi as father-son
There’s still time for Raaja Rani to course-correct. If the narrative shifts its focus to character development and starts to realistically deal with the protagonist’s psychological trauma, or at least clarify it, there may be room for redemption. More grounded performances, tighter scripts and a deeper exploration of class, identity and emotional healing could potentially turn this drama around. But that would require a bold departure from the current formula, and as of now, there are no signs of such a pivot.
In its present state, Raaja Rani struggles to hold attention, not because it’s too experimental, but because it isn’t daring enough. It clings to outdated storytelling crutches while pretending to offer something new. The drama entered the scene with the promise of being something unusual and profound, but it’s quickly sliding into the forgettable zone.
Faysal Qureshi and Hina Afridi
To put it bluntly: unless Raaja Rani makes a sharp and deliberate recovery, it’s off our watch list. There are far better options on air right now, telling richer, more credible stories with stronger performances. This one may have arrived wearing a crown, but it’s stumbling fast, and we won’t be sticking around to see if it finds its footing.
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