Pakistan becomes first Muslim nation to air Love Island
Pakistani dating show Lazawal Ishq, inspired by Love Island, faced backlash for awkward casting, outdated gender norms, and “unIslamic” content, yet exposes aspects of society mainstream TV often overlooks.
Pakistan’s First Love Island-Style Show Sparks Controversy and Curiosity
Pakistan’s entertainment industry has embarked on a bold — and, for many, shocking — experiment: a reality dating show inspired by the British hit Love Island. The show, titled Lazawal Ishq, which translates to “Eternal Love”, has left viewers divided, perplexed, and, in many cases, cringing. While fans of global reality TV might see it as a natural step forward, Pakistanis themselves were caught off guard. Local media has slammed the show, and social media is ablaze with reactions ranging from amusement to outrage.
This is a milestone of sorts: Pakistan is the first Muslim-majority country to attempt a show closely mirroring the format of Love Island. Unlike Western versions, which feature steamy scenes, Lazawal Ishq has been toned down for cultural and religious sensitivities. Previous shows, like Love Is Blind: Habibi on Netflix, have explored arranged commitments among Arab singles, but Lazawal Ishq takes the dating and romance in a confined, televised format concept to Pakistani screens for the very first time.
And yet, the show’s charm — if it can even be called that — lies precisely in its cringe factor. In an era of streaming-induced brain-rot, viewers seem glued to their screens, compelled by a mix of curiosity, disbelief, and guilty enjoyment. But the real drama is not on the set; it’s online. YouTube comment sections for each episode are flooded with viewers citing Quranic verses, denouncing the show as “unIslamic” and “immoral.” For many, Lazawal Ishq crosses cultural and religious boundaries that mainstream Pakistani entertainment rarely even approaches.
Casting Choices and Gender Dynamics: A Cultural Misfire
Part of the show’s perplexing nature lies in its casting. Dating isn’t openly discussed in Pakistan, and the participants feel almost haphazardly chosen — a seemingly random mix of people who agreed to be on camera. Unlike Western shows, or even Indian equivalents such as Love Island India or Bigg Boss, where participants often have prior media exposure, modeling experience, or controversial backgrounds, Lazawal Ishq’s lineup is strikingly ordinary.
The cast includes corporate professionals, lawyers, a dentist student, and a theatre hopeful, alongside aspiring actors. For viewers, this randomness heightens the “guilty curiosity” — a sense that watching the show is both absurd and fascinating. This motley crew, however, is emblematic of the show’s deeper cultural experiment: exposing a society that rarely showcases the realities of young adults navigating love, attraction, and personal expectations.
The portrayal of gender dynamics is especially telling. Male participants casually make sexist remarks, reflecting attitudes that remain prevalent in certain sections of Pakistani society. Female participants speak candidly about social and familial expectations — some so traditional that feminists might wince. While these moments are often uncomfortable to watch, they provide a rare glimpse into how gender roles, social norms, and romantic expectations collide in contemporary Pakistan. The show, intentionally or not, becomes a mirror to societal norms, revealing tensions between modern aspirations and entrenched cultural attitudes.
Despite the critiques and moral policing, Lazawal Ishq has found an audience. Some viewers are intrigued by the novelty, others by the spectacle, and a few by the sheer audacity of the concept. Social media is alive with memes, debates, and commentary, and episodes trend quickly as audiences dissect the participants’ behavior, the dynamics between contestants, and the broader societal implications.
The producers appear to have leaned into the drama, capitalizing on awkward interactions, playful flirtations, and cultural discomfort. Unlike the polished glamour of international dating shows, Lazawal Ishq carries a raw, sometimes unpolished quality that is both awkward and entertaining. It’s easy to criticize, but it also forces viewers to confront parts of society they rarely see represented on mainstream screens.
Yet the backlash is intense. Many religiously conservative Pakistanis are uncomfortable with even a sanitized version of a reality dating show. Commenters repeatedly invoke religious texts to argue against the concept, framing it as a moral violation. At the same time, younger audiences often respond with humor and irreverence, highlighting the generational divide in perceptions of love, media, and morality.
Ultimately, Lazawal Ishq is more than just a cringe-worthy reality show. It is Pakistan’s experiment with modern entertainment, cultural boundaries, and societal reflection. It exposes tensions between tradition and modernity, between curiosity and propriety, and between public fascination and moral outrage. Whether it succeeds or fails as television, it has already sparked conversations that mainstream media rarely initiates.
In a country where romance is rarely portrayed openly, and where social norms tightly regulate interaction between men and women, Lazawal Ishq pushes boundaries — sometimes awkwardly, often humorously, and occasionally uncomfortably. Love, lust, gender, and societal expectation collide in ways that are fascinating, if cringe-inducing. For viewers, the experience is equal parts scandal, comedy, and cultural lesson, making the show a truly unique addition to Pakistan’s entertainment landscape.