Alif Rant Review

A Spiritual Awakening or an Existential Crisis?

Caution: A slightly more profound and less humorous rant coming your way. Possibly along with some spoilers.

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So, 'Alif' has been on my watch list ever since I started checking out Pakistani dramas. I watched Sajal's performances in 'Yeh Dil Mera' (a story that provoked quite an emotional response from me despite possessing several technical flaws) followed by 'Yakeen Ka Safar' (far superior to Yeh Dil Mera in terms of technicalities, but one that had less of a personal impact on me) and was quite impressed with them (despite her slight hysterical tendencies as Aina, and because of her more controlled performance as Zubia). And obviously, after watching Sajal on screen with her real-life partner Ahad, it's impossible not to turn into a #Sahad (yes, unless you're not living under a social media rock, that is their ship name) shipper.

I'd been postponing watching 'Alif' for mainly two reasons-the first being that I was obviously apprehensive about seeing Sajal cast opposite someone else due to my shipper tendencies, and the second being that 'Alif' was described as a 'spiritual drama' in terms of its genre. And let's just say, spirituality (at least, the the religious kind) and I don't really gel very well.

Despite all these caveats and doubts in my head, I finally decided to give it a go, and I'm happy to report that I definitely don't regret the experience. And as usual, after watching 24 episodes (yes, Pakistani shows are finite with a small number of episodes which are usually around forty minutes long, in case you're wondering), I have a lot of opinions and thoughts that I need to gather. So, let's dive right in, shall we?

'Alif' starts off rather plainly with an eight-year-old Momin (meaning, one who believes in God) writing letters to the almighty. His father's whereabouts have been unbeknownst to him and his mother for the past year and he hopes that Allah will respond to his entreaties if he pens down letters. That's what he's been brought up to believe. He certainly lives up to his name and is a true individual of faith.

Cut to a few decades later, and we see the same 'Momin' all grown up. Except he's no longer the innocent believer he used to be. He's now Qalb-e-Momin (played by Hamza Ali Abbasi), one of Pakistan's most successful film directors, responsible for dishing out some of the greatest commercial blockbusters in the last few years. So much so, that even struggling actress Momina Sultan (played by Sajal, of course. Momin and Momina...kind of has a nice ring to it don't you think?) thinks that landing a part in his film will not only help her pay for her sick brother's treatment but also open up new avenues in terms of career opportunities. 

And in just a few scenes, it's established that circumstances have turned Qalb-e-Momin into an unabashed atheist. What has brought about this transformation? What familial tragedy took place several years ago that led him to lose his faith and end up resenting his mother? Also, how are Momin and Momina's pasts interlinked? These are the questions we get the answers to by the time the final credits roll.

The first thing that intrigued me about the show is that it unfolds in two timelines-one set in contemporary Pakistan where morality and substance seems to have taken a nose dive in a film industry now ruled by artifice and pomp, and one set in seventies or eighties when the industry was of a more pristine nature. This juxtaposition immediately piques your interest. Furthermore, the present timeline focusses on Qalb-e-Momin as an adult, and the other chronicles the lives of his parents (yesteryear's famous actress Husn-e-Jahan, played by Kubra Khan and calligrapher Taha Abdul Ala, played by Ehsan Khan) and the various obstacles to their romance. 

I loved the introductory episode and the establishment of the lead characters, as well as Alif's cinematic universe as a whole. Momin is happy living a rather carefree life, lost in the glitz and razzle-dazzle of showbiz. But things take a rather sombre turn with the unannounced arrival of Momin's conservative and religiously inclined grandfather (the OG calligrapher, it appears, who's written only the lord's name in his works of art), Abdul Ala. Abdul Ala is noticeably displeasured by Momin's lack of faith but he's never too vocal about expressing his disapproval. His digs and taunts are quite subtle (and actually quite underhanded, if you ask me) and they do succeed in troubling and worrying Momin despite the facade he maintains of being unaffected by them.