
Imran Abbas calls out obsession with gossip
On Friday, actor and model Imran Abbas took to Facebook to express his frustration with what he sees as the nation's unhealthy obsession with celebrity gossip, and the widespread silence over pressing societal issues. In a candid post, which was later deleted, Abbas criticised the public's preoccupation with trivial matters, calling it a distraction from the real challenges facing the country.
The deleted post was a scathing critique of those who focus on criticising celebrities rather than addressing systemic injustices or advocating for change. Abbas began by lamenting, "Once the people of this country stop focusing on the lives of celebrities, proving them to be imperfect, crafting memes, giving interviews to bloggers to discuss their private past, present or their acting, and farshi shalwars - they'll understand what is happening with them, what has already happened and what will happen now."
Abbas pointed out the collective apathy of society, adding that while the country faces increasingly dire circumstances, people choose to remain silent or indulge in negativity in unrelated areas. He wrote, "Every day we get to hear a piece of news that makes the heart hurt, but we are all silent. When we don't have the courage to speak up when required, then all the perverseness and negativity will come out in other places. What else can be expected from apathetic onlookers, standing and watching the show (and even recording it on their phones)?"
The actor invoked a powerful analogy to explain his frustration, stating, "Your whole house is on fire but you're more concerned because you can smell burnt food from your neighbour's house. In this case, there's no hope for you." He called out society for its misplaced priorities, emphasising that ignoring personal and national crises while focusing on mocking others only accelerates collective decline. His post ended with a biting invitation to critics to prove his point by posting negative comments on his page, sarcastically remarking, "Keep singing along to Hum Zinda Qoum Hain."
'Preoccupied with trivial matters'
Although the post was deleted shortly after being published, Abbas shared another message later that day, which remains visible on his Facebook page. This second post carried a similar message but was more measured in tone. It emphasised the need for the public to redirect its focus toward meaningful issues rather than trivial distractions.
In this follow-up post, Abbas wrote, "It is regrettable that we lack an understanding of our primary social issues as a nation, and where we should be actively advocating and raising our voices and shouldn't be standing as a silent spectator." He expressed concern over the public's tendency to fixate on the personal lives of celebrities, their fashion choices, and their relationships, calling it a waste of energy.
Highlighting the need for societal awareness, Abbas added, "Instead of addressing important societal matters, we often find ourselves preoccupied with trivial matters such as gossiping about celebrities, critiquing their public statements, fashion choices, performances, relationships, and personal lives. Our energies are frequently wasted on making negative comments daily."
Through his posts, Abbas urged his audience to reflect on their priorities and muster the courage to speak out against real issues. He stressed that this silence in the face of critical problems could have devastating consequences for the nation, urging people to use their voices where it matters most. "At this critical juncture, there is an unsettling silence when there should be voices raised in dissent," he said.
Abbas's comments come in the backdrop of controversies surrounding Ramazan transmissions, where hosts and celebrities have sparked debate with insensitive remarks.

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Express Tribune
15-06-2025
- Express Tribune
Viral by chance, famous by heart
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The stall is simple, the recipe traditional, but the impact has been anything but ordinary. Online, he is known as Pehlwan Kachalu, and his street food story has become a viral sensation. What changed everything was a single video. In it, Umer layered the ingredients one by one, ending with what he calls the final touch of love. His voice, full of energy, carried through the screen. 'TikTok brought people to me,' he says. 'From Lahore, Karachi, even other countries. They saw the video and wanted to try the food.' Before all this, his stall catered to passersby and neighborhood regulars. Now, it draws food vloggers, tourists, and fans who wait in line with their cameras ready. 'It's not just a stall anymore. It's become a brand,' Umer says. His account now has over half a million followers, and several videos have crossed the million-view mark. What draws people in isn't just the food. It's the way he presents it, fast hands, warm banter, a connection to the viewer. 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And in a crowded digital space, that still counts for something. At a time when brands spend millions crafting the perfect online presence, small businesses across Pakistan are showing that sometimes, the most effective content is the kind you don't plan. These videos may be shaky, the lighting inconsistent, but they carry something more powerful, sincerity. 'Big businesses still rely on spending to stay visible on social media,' says Ibtisam Ahmed, a social media marketing manager at a local agency. 'But stories that are original and create a real connection don't need a strategy or a budget. These people speak from the heart, and they have platforms where audiences are already waiting. You just have to be real, and you can reach people organically without spending a penny.' That's the difference. These business owners are not pretending to be anything other than who they are. They don't perform for the camera. They simply invite people into their world, whether it's a roadside stall, a home workspace, or a decades-old sweet shop. The result is a kind of content that feels more like a conversation than a pitch. The afternoon sun filters through the glass panels and Wali carefully seals a packet of almonds, the day's third order for a customer from Lahore. Nearby, two boys are recording a slow-motion video with his walnut display. He watches, smiles briefly, then returns to weighing figs on the scale. There's no script here. Just the quiet rhythm of a shopkeeper who now shares his space with the unexpected fame of the internet. Every now and then, someone asks if he'll make another viral video. But Gul Wali doesn't think in terms of virality. He thinks in terms of fresh stock, clean counters, and greeting whoever walks through the door, whether they saw him on TikTok or just happened to pass by. As another phone camera lifts and the familiar challenge begins again, 'Yeh akhrot na haath se tootega, na truck se', he looks on, not certain if this clip will go viral. But then again, he didn't expect the first one to, either.


Express Tribune
11-06-2025
- Express Tribune
Pump petrol, earn raptures
Quick, without Googling or consulting ChatGPT, riddle us this: what is the most ludicrous, outlandish, woman-in-men's-field thing a female person do to earn the respect of a man? Is it building a rocket? Sliding into a parallel parking spot in 0.5 seconds? Building a career as a petrol station attendant? We need neither brains nor AI to assist with this answer, because we have Imran Abbas toiling away on Instagram Stories to tell us: it is number 3. Possibly because women have little time left for rocket-building over the course of a busy work day, and also because very few women in their right minds would attempt to parallel park when there is a perfectly good spot available half a mile away free of both other cars and braying bystanders. Which just leaves us with the petrol station thing. Earlier this month, Imran was impressed enough to post (with consent) a video of the woman refuelling his car, not unlike a tourist on safari in Africa pulling over to quickly snap photos of a wandering leopard before it slinks away into the bush. Just before telling us all this her name, Imran urges us to check out this rare sighting of a 'working woman', saying, "Look at this, women here are in every field of work." The label splashed across his video read "Respect!!!". Yes, all three exclamation marks are his own. What's the problem? In an interview earlier this year, when touching upon society's favourite oxymoron (the "working woman") the ever dependable Sania Saeed, fierce defender of those of those she shares a gender with, pointed out that in rural areas, women had been working and farming alongside men for generations without anyone recognising their value. Bearing Sania's observation in mind, the real question is this: why is it noteworthy for a woman to be working at a petrol station? Why can a woman not be out in the wild earning a living without people getting out of their cars to marvel at the spectacle? Is it because there are so many cultural barriers for women to break through that by the time they make it to the finish line at the petrol station, it is time to hand out medals and/or film it all for posterity? Is this awed state the equivalent of a woman overcome with raptures over a man who is both liberal and culinarily advanced enough to boil himself an egg for breakfast? As a man as social media savvy as Imran must be aware, in the wake of any content posted online, it is the prerogative of followers to comb it for subtext with the diligence of a forensics expert searching a crime scene for clues. On social media, a spade is rarely ever a spade. You put up your post, and in return, we put on our Sherlock hats and ask the important questions: What can we glean from this five-second video about this person's innermost thoughts and society at large? In Imran's defence We have little interest in Imran's innermost thoughts – unless, of course, he is reckless enough to publicly compose a post titled "My innermost private thoughts", in which case it is open season on the poor man. In this spirit, it is necessary to back up Imran's one-word helpful caption and note that, as he so thoughtfully pointed out, it is of course entirely respectable to earn a living at a petrol station. He is not wrong on that score. We must also absolve him of any nefarious intentions of patronising this woman in the same way as someone else would praise a four-year-old's drawing of a cat. This is not meant to be an attack on Imran, who, lest we forget, was amongst the first male celebrities to publicly condemn the murder of Sana Yousaf, a woman who fell afoul of a man spurned. In this petrol station situation, Imran's was an entirely innocuous post, put up to celebrate the power of women defying social norms to go out and earn a living that does not involve a more traditionally female career, such as teaching or making snide comments about blackheads whilst threading 50 eyebrows a day. All of which is a very roundabout way of circling back to our original question: why are there so many social norms that necessitate defying in order for a woman to find work at a petrol station? Is such public appreciation yet another example of hidden patriarchy? Of course, it is a bit pointless to go searching for hidden patriarchy in Pakistan when we have such a rich abundance of the in-your-face variety, displayed so gloriously on our dramas on our screens and there for your viewing pleasure on the off chance that you have not had your fill of patriarchy in your real non-drama life. To pick at random, Naqsh, starring Hina Altaf, shows us a father informing his daughter that she must marry the man of his choice on the grounds that he is her father, despite her protestations to the contrary. Meanwhile, Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum (in which a woman felt compelled to marry a stranger so as to spare her parents awkward questions about why there was a bride-shaped space on the wedding stage) shows Hania Aamir's Sharjeena sprinting to the kitchen after putting in a full day at work without anyone batting an eye (although her more sympathetic housemates do take care to compliment her cooking, a heartwarming moment for which we are urged to give them an undying round of applause.) Down with patriarchy Many educated women will be fortunate enough to no longer have to put up with a father stubbornly insisting they marry whatever specimen he parades before them, but unfortunately they will still find themselves occupying the Sharjeena end of the spectrum when it comes to striking that work-life balance. And naturally, if a real-life Sharjeena lands herself a man who will voluntarily boil that egg, she it to be congratulated for winning the lottery. We should not belittle Imran for recognising the hard work put in by a woman. It is, after all, the very thing that Sania stressed people fail to do. But the very fact that a woman is celebrated for being able to work in what would otherwise have been a post taken up by a man points unwittingly to a society rooted in preferring that that woman stay home instead and trot out beautiful rotis as if drawn by the hand of God. Or a compass. As Morgan Freeman succinctly remarked way back in a 2006 interview, the only way to get rid of racism is to stop talking about it. In the same vein, the only way to hack away at deep-rooted patriarchy is to not stop and take note every time a woman steps out of the house to earn a living just like a man. Hopefully, we can achieve this noble goal before Katy Perry builds a second home on the moon. Although perhaps if we insist on entertaining such notions, we are just the dreamers of dreams.