Written by: Hurmat Majid
Posted on: May 26, 2025 | 
| 中文
Faysal Qureshi and Madiha Imam
Green Entertainment’s latest offering, Behroopia, had all the makings of a game-changer for Pakistani television. With its psychological thriller premise centered on dissociative identity disorder (DID), a rarely explored theme in our drama landscape, the show promised a gripping deep-dive into the human mind and the scars of trauma. Led by a powerhouse actor like Faysal Quraishi and supported by the talented Madiha Imam, expectations were sky-high. However, several episodes in, the verdict is more conflicted than enthusiastic: while Behroopia impresses in concept, its execution leaves much to be desired.
Let’s begin with the positives, because Behroopia does deserve credit for its ambition. In a world of repetitive saas-bahu conflicts, marital melodramas and regressive tropes, Behroopia took a bold detour. The story revolves around Mekayel Ahmed (Faysal Quraishi), a man suffering from DID, a condition that manifests through nine distinct personalities developed as a result of childhood trauma. The show also follows Zara (Madiha Imam), a woman who enters Mekayel’s life and eventually marries him, only to find herself entangled in his fractured world.
Kaif Ghaznavi and Faysal Qureshi
Mental health, especially something as complex and misunderstood as DID, is uncharted territory for most Pakistani dramas. The attempt to not only show the psychological turmoil of a man grappling with fragmented identities but also the emotional weight borne by those around him is commendable. The potential for character depth, layered storytelling, and social awareness is huge.
But here lies the tragedy of Behroopia: all of that potential is quickly overshadowed by an over-the-top, often jarring execution that undercuts the seriousness of the topic it seeks to explore.
Faysal Quraishi is known for his range as an actor, and undoubtedly, portraying nine personalities in one role is a mammoth task. However, in this case, the performances, while intense, veer into theatricality more often than they should. Instead of subtly conveying the shifts between Mekayel’s personas, the drama opts for obvious, exaggerated changes that feel forced. The constant cycling between personalities is meant to provoke empathy or awe but frequently borders on the absurd. At times, it's hard to take the scenes seriously, not because of the disorder itself, but because of the way it's portrayed.
Faysal Qureshi depicting Mekayel's split personality
Madiha Imam, usually a breath of fresh air, is also let down by the direction and script. Her reactions often don’t feel grounded in the reality of the story. The chemistry between her and Quraishi is almost clinical, devoid of the emotional pull needed to make the viewer invest in their journey. It doesn’t help that the dialogue feels overly stylized, with long-winded lines that lack natural rhythm. Characters speak as if they're in a play, not in a moment of real psychological tension.
Perhaps the most glaring issue with Behroopia is its staging, the way scenes are set up and filmed. There is a noticeable lack of subtlety. Whether it's a reveal of one of Mekayel’s personalities, a moment of confrontation or a romantic exchange between the leads, everything is executed with such dramatic flourish that it begins to feel comical. Extreme camera angles, slow-motion shots and eerie music cues flood the screen at moments when silence or restraint could’ve had far greater impact.
Faysal Qureshi, Ainee Zaidi and Srha Asghar
In thrillers, especially psychological ones, mood is everything. Atmosphere has to draw the viewer in, and transitions need to feel organic. Unfortunately, Behroopia treats its viewers like they won’t understand what's happening unless it’s spelled out in bold, red letters. This overemphasis makes the entire viewing experience heavy-handed, dulling the impact of scenes that should feel suspenseful, mysterious or emotionally intense.
Another critical flaw lies in the way the narrative is progressing. Despite the rich psychological premise, the plot is unfolding in an oddly disconnected, unnatural manner. Episodes don’t build momentum; instead, they feel like standalone vignettes where Mekayel’s condition is the only hook. There’s little sense of forward motion or coherent buildup. The transitions between key plot points feel rushed or unjustified, and new characters are introduced with barely any narrative weight.
Huma Nawab, Adnan Jaffar and Madiha Imam
It’s particularly frustrating because the themes Behroopia wants to tackle, such as trauma, identity, trust and healing, require patience and nuanced storytelling. The show seems to want to be everything at once: a psychological study, a romance, a social message and a thriller. In trying to do it all, it achieves very little with conviction.
Viewers have started to voice their confusion and disappointment on social media. Many were initially intrigued by the premise and eager to support a drama that diverged from the norm. But now, that intrigue is wearing thin. The uneven pacing, coupled with the bizarre tonal shifts, is making it difficult for audiences to stay emotionally invested. If the show doesn’t pick a narrative direction soon and commit to it, it risks becoming a chore rather than an event to look forward to.
Nabeel Zuberi and Madiha Imam
As a concept, Behroopia deserved applause. It could have been a landmark production, an intelligent, emotionally resonant and visually compelling exploration of mental health. But thus far, it’s proving that good ideas mean very little when execution is flawed. The acting, though earnest, lacks the necessary restraint. The direction, too eager to impress, ends up undermining the gravity of the subject. And the writing needs to trust the audience more, trust that viewers can handle complexity without being spoon-fed every emotion or revelation.
That’s not to say it’s beyond saving. If the makers listen to feedback and focus on grounding the story, reducing the melodrama, tightening the plot and allowing the characters room to breathe, the show could still find its footing. The potential is there, but it’s buried under layers of excess.
Srha Asghar and Faysal Qureshi
As a viewer who wanted to love Behroopia, I find myself disappointed but still slightly hopeful. But hope can only carry a drama so far. Unless things start getting more interesting, more real and more thoughtfully portrayed, I’ll have to bow out. The subject matter deserves better, and so do we.
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