Why Muamma is the Best Thing on Digital & Mainstream Right Now

What happens when life hits you with everything terrible? Your parents, your husband, every single person you hold near and dear, has betrayed you, has thrown you down the abyss. And when Neitszche said, “if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.” Saba Qamar stares into the abyss in Hum TV Network’s Muamma and how, as Jahan Ara, a vengeful, viper-like woman on the prowl for disloyal husbands.

Written by Imran Nazir and directed by Shaqielle Khan, the show begins with the mysterious character of “JiJi” aka Jahan Ara, a seemingly single woman who rents out another portion of her house to young couples.

Though it doesn’t seem so from the outset, but JiJi is picking her tenants very carefully. Signs of discord. Possibilities of betrayal. Jahan Ara keeps an eye on all things sundry via a two-way mirror she has installed in her home.

Does all of it seem so impossibly OTT and ridiculous?

That’s because it is. And yet it remains entirely believable.

JiJi lives with her handmaiden Asiya and her husband Ashiq. Jiji’s trust lawyer, a smart-alecky man Friday and Asiya are her shaky support system through which Jiji weaves a tangled web around her prey.

Jiji’s dark backstory is shown carefully and delicately, exposing the fractures in not just Jahan Ara’s life but her personality. Each and every trauma makes Jahan Ara more and more susceptible to reactionary violence and that is exactly what Jahan Ara becomes: Jiji.

Once upon a time, Jahan Ara was an unsuspecting, sweet young girl with dreams in her eyes. But she became victim to a terrible life, a life so cruel, every single happiness was taken away from her. Her love (Usman Mukhtar) is separated from her and she is forced to marry Sarmad (Syed Jibran) who is nothing less than a monster himself.

Jahan Ara’s parents (Asma Abbas and Syed Muhammad Ahmed) are mean and unkind, leading to more trauma in Jahan Ara’s life.

Watching Muamma often feels like turning the page of a depressing but delicious Russian short story. The gothic vibes, the classic treatement and the fast pace will keep you hooked, especially if you love literature and have a deep appreciation for the core of Pakistani dramas.

Everything from Saba Qamar’s wardrobe, to her gait, to her expressions, her shifting stares that move from innocent landlady to sociopathic monstrous villain are a triumph in Saba’s name. There is danger yet grace in the way she walks, a sharp discerning intelligence in her stares when she analyzes and overlooks in her two way mirror. She minces no words, keeps her voice low and her plans even more hidden. This is a woman on a mission and boy does it keep getting better and better with each episode.

Saba’s brilliant performance needs no words and praises because as I always keep saying, Saba Qamar remains in a league of her own and with Muamma she proves that no one can come close to her and achieve what she achieves almost effortlessly. As one of those one-in-a-million sort of a performer, Saba Qamar makes Muamma unmissable. Every gesture, every look and every moment she delivers has depth and power. Whether Jahan Ara is vulnerable in front of her abusive husband or devilishly able to manipulate idiots around her, Saba Qamar achieves everything and more. She makes Jahan Ara larger than life yet relatable. Something very few actors could have achieved in this lifetime.

That’s not to say that Imran Nazir didn’t have a very tight script for her to wound herself around and director Shaqielle Khan hasn’t created that perfect little zephyr in a teacup. Everything about Muamma screams stellar direction and pitch perfect attention to detail. The dialog is sharp, the production design crisp and suited perfectly to the story. Nestled in the idyllic Islamabadi trees, is a dark and foreboding story of a wronged woman avenging unwitting sisters in battle. The team of Muamma has delivered a masterpiece so far.

What also makes Muamma work is that there are no false notes from the supporting cast. Usually in shows like these, which have a lot of potential to capture the frenzy of the audience, are marred by silly plotholes, flimsy supporting cast and a mismatched treatment in terms of production design and cinematography. In Muamma, everything marries along with perfect rhythm and symphony. So much so that I won’t be amiss if I say this is one of the best things on tv, across the digital spheres and anything we’ve seen in a long long time.

When we say Pakistan doesn’t make quality content that should be on Netflix should start watching Muamma asap and silence their undue criticism.