A 58-year-old woman I know in Chandigarh, a retired schoolteacher and devoted grandmother, recently finished watching the famous Pakistani showZindagi Gulzar Hai for the fourth time. She also believes, quite firmly, that Pakistan remains India’s most irresponsible neighbour. When I mentioned the show to her husband, a retired government officer known for his harsh views on the Pakistan army, his eyes lit up instantly. “Adnan Siddiqui is an exceptional actor," he admitted, before quickly correcting himself: “But don’t quote me. I have no love for Pakistan. I just happened to watch it."
That awkward disclaimer captures something millions of Indians, particularly Punjabis, quietly experience today. People across Chandigarh, Ludhiana, Delhi and beyond, who hold deeply critical views of the Pakistani state are simultaneously hooked on Pakistani television dramas. They may not watch it openly on TV screens in their living rooms, but slyly on YouTube channels on their phones. It is a contradiction few openly acknowledge.
This comes at perhaps the lowest point in India-Pakistan relations in decades. In May last year, India launched Operation Sindoor, following the Pakistan-sponsored Pahalgam terror attack that killed 26 innocent civilians in Jammu and Kashmir. Indian strikes targeted terror infrastructure across Pakistan and PoK. Military exchanges followed. The Indus Waters Treaty remains suspended, diplomatic ties are frozen and bilateral engagement is virtually non-existent.
Yet even as commemorative videos of Operation Sindoor circulated this month, viewers across Indian cities were still catching up on episodes of Hania Amir’s Meri Zindagi Hai Tu. After the Indian government blocked major Pakistani YouTube channels following the Pahalgam attack, mirror channels emerged almost instantly. The audience seemed to have simply migrated with them.
Part of the explanation lies in Punjab’s memory. Many families in Indian Punjab still trace their roots to Lahore, Lyallpur, Multan or Jhang. The stories passed down through generations are often stories of homes left behind overnight.
My own childhood, like that of many Punjabis, was narrated through memories of cities now in Pakistan. That emotional geography never entirely disappeared. Pakistani dramas unintentionally recreate fragments of that lost world. The language, food, courtyard homes, wedding rituals, family structures and Urdu-blended Punjabi tones feel deeply familiar to many Indian Punjabis. What viewers recognise is not Pakistan as a state, but echoes of a shared civilisational past.
There is also a simpler reason: the dramas are genuinely well-made. For years, Indian television increasingly leaned towards exaggerated melodrama and unrealistic spectacle. Pakistani dramas moved in the opposite direction. Their appeal lies in restraint. Characters resemble ordinary people, homes look lived-in and conflicts revolve around believable emotional tensions: marriage, class, ambition and family expectations.
That realism has found a massive audience across borders. Several Pakistani dramas have crossed billions of views online. Even after official restrictions, Indian audiences continued finding alternative channels to watch them.
Is this Pakistan’s soft power? To an extent, yes. Pakistani dramas have succeeded in creating familiarity where official diplomacy repeatedly collapses.
Just as Bollywood has long been Pakistan’s guilty pleasure, India may have quietly conceded an edge to its neighbour in the human business of television drama. But we should be careful about overstating what this means at the level of statecraft.
In November 2008, then Pakistani President Asif Ali Zardari spoke at a conference in Delhi and reflected on how Indians and Pakistanis still carried traces of one another despite the Partition. The remarks were warmly received, but within days came the 26/11 Mumbai terror attacks. The contrast was brutal and unforgettable: cultural warmth on one side, terrorism on the other.
That tension still defines the relationship today.
Pakistan’s sponsorship of cross-border terrorism is not a diplomatic misunderstanding. It is a long and documented reality with devastating consequences for Indian civilians and security personnel alike. The Pahalgam attack reinforced why Indian concerns remain legitimate and non-negotiable.
At the same time, Indian viewers who enjoy Pakistani dramas while supporting firm action against terrorism are not being contradictory. They are caught up between a hostile security establishment and popular culture. That distinction rarely appears in official rhetoric, but it exists quietly inside millions of Indian homes.
None of this implies naivety. When families in Ludhiana or Amritsar watch scenes that resemble conversations once common in undivided Punjab, what they experience is less political reconciliation than cultural familiarity.
Cultural consumption cannot substitute for accountability, nor does it erase decades of violence, mistrust and hostility. But it does reveal something worth noticing: even during periods of extreme political hostility, people continue consuming stories that feel emotionally recognisable. A year after Operation Sindoor, trade is frozen, diplomacy is minimal and mistrust dominates the relationship. Yet Pakistani dramas continue to find Indian audiences, even if many viewers discuss them almost with guilt.
The aunty from Chandigarh summed it up best: “We criticise Pakistan all day, then stay awake till midnight because there’s one more episode left!"