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Sharjeena and Rubab from Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum have been all the rage recently. When I go home, I hear my mother discussing them with my aunts. When I go to work, I hear women talking about them — especially about how Rubab took revenge on her lying, cheating, pretentious, and tackily dressed husband.
It’s safe to say that the two characters — played by Hania Aamir and Naeema Butt — have reignited the good girl versus bad girl debate. And for the first time in a long time, Pakistani viewers are siding with Rubab, who fits the textbook definition of a ‘bad girl’. However, I feel we’re all jumping to conclusions rather quickly.
Is Sharjeena really a ‘crybaby’?
While social media celebrates Rubab and calls Sharjeena a “crybaby,” I’d like everyone to consider everything the latter’s gone through; feeling abandoned by her husband when she needed him most, despite having compromised her whole lifestyle for him, going through a miscarriage, and now suffering from postpartum depression — yes, you can suffer from PPD even after a pregnancy loss. I would also advise anyone comparing the two women to refrain from doing so.
I feel this comparison undermines the essence of feminism because while we celebrate Rubab, our “feminist icon”, we forget that the core concept of feminism is to uplift women, not pit them against each other.
Let’s also explore the context in which these comparisons are being made. Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum has gained considerable fame due to its stellar cast and simple yet captivating storyline. In the show, Sharjeena and Rubab are rivals because Rubab ends up marrying Adeel, who was initially engaged to Sharjeena.
Sharjeena then marries Adeel’s younger brother, Mustafa, who is, to put it nicely, a man child in his late twenties — lounging around and playing games all day. Sharjeena, embodying the perfect middle-class wife, takes on the responsibility of “fixing” him — a trope we continue to romanticise.
The last couple of episodes have led to viewers favouring Rubab over Sharjeena, simply because she’s been upset because of everything happening in her life — going from riches to rags, being ignored by her husband (everyone’s favourite Mustafa, played by Fahad Mustafa), and losing her child. On top of that, Mustafa told her he did not want a child in the first place while she was struggling to bring the baby into the world.
He also did not offer a single sentence of reassurance in the entire period that she was making these sacrifices, while she’s been nothing but supportive of him, pushing him to pursue his dreams.
Is Rubab really all claps and no caps?
As for Rubab, let’s not forget the position of privilege this character operates from. And while being privileged is not necessarily a bad thing, one must remember the entitlement at play here. This character, with the support of her father’s never-ending pots of money, behaves like a spoilt, entitled, manipulative child who wants what she wants. She knows how to stand up for herself, but is she really someone we should aspire to be like? Sad Double Roti here would disagree, but I’ll try to break it down.
The way Rubab dealt with her cheating husband, Adeel (played by Emmad Irfani), was indeed remarkable. The scene took the cake — quite literally. However, I wouldn’t call Rubab a feminist icon simply because she has a way with grand gestures and revenge. On the contrary, I would like to remind everyone that she went after an engaged man, married him, and then proceeded to plot against his brother and his ex-fiancee to get them kicked out of their own house.
Irrespective of her wealth, she actively schemed to make Sharjeena look bad, and aren’t feminists supposed to empower other women instead of feeling threatened by their existence?
Ha-ha! The joke’s on you
Right after the last episode aired, there were a couple of reactions on social media, that were rather triggering, but one reel stood out to me and actually inspired this entire piece.
The reel featured a scene from the show in which Sharjeena is alone in her room, crying. That, in my opinion, is an incredibly emotional scene because it reflects how alone Sharjeena feels. And haven’t we all felt similar feelings of abandonment at least once in our lives?
Given the vastly different situations of the two characters, there shouldn’t be any room for comparisons. Rubab has been dealing with something completely different and that has nothing to do with Sharjeena. Sharjeena has had her moments of strength in the show, particularly in one scene in which she stood up to Rubab for insulting her family. This character has also had to build her life back up from scratch. But sure, let’s call her clingy for asking for the bare minimum from her husband and a crybaby for expressing her emotions.
Modern feminism and cry-shaming
No matter how liberated and strong-willed a woman is, it’s only human to have emotions. Sharjeena is a strong woman who’s in love, and let’s not kid ourselves — we all know how women can be when they’re in love. They’ll do anything for the man they care about, so her support for her partner’s dreams and tolerance of the insults from his mother aren’t unusual. While it’s wrong to expect similar tolerance for bad behaviour from every woman, it’s also something a lot of us are conditioned to deal with.
But shaming someone for crying because their life hasn’t turned out exactly how they planned, just because they signed up for something, doesn’t make it alright.
What would you do if your partner became completely oblivious to your existence, especially when you’re pregnant and already emotionally overwhelmed? How would you feel if he promised to show up at your doctor’s appointment but didn’t even have the basic decency to call and apologise for being late?
While I love the refreshing idea of a woman taking revenge on an unfaithful man, I disagree with romanticising a character who has consistently brought down another woman. Rubab pursued an engaged man, confessed her love to him just as he was about to marry, used her privilege to degrade Sharjeena, ridiculed her on multiple occasions, and repeatedly called her “middle-class”. Is such classist and toxic behaviour really our definition of “heroic”?
I would also like to emphasise that these two women face entirely different situations. One is dealing with a cheating, unfaithful husband, while the other feels abandoned and unloved. How can anyone compare these two women — coming from different backgrounds, and grappling with different emotions? Make it make sense!
Last but not least, let’s remember that most women in our society are not privileged enough to behave the way Rubab did with her husband. Many are stuck with husbands like Adeel because they’re either emotionally manipulated, blackmailed, lack a support system, or face various other constraints. It takes everything for a woman to walk away from a marriage, and we shouldn’t judge them for staying.
In conclusion, women need to support each other and avoid romanticising a character who isn’t truly a ‘girl’s girl.’ We can appreciate Rubab without bringing Sharjeena down — that’s just how it should be.
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