The Crime that Keeps on Giving: Polygamy in Pakistan

Where mercy was meant, mayhem now reigns.

It started with a simple talk show appearance. Or did it?

Lollywood power couple Ayeza Khan and Danish Taimoor have long been the picture–perfect image of a happily married couple. Both successful, good-looking actors, known for doting over each other on social media, they were well-respected, noncontroversial, and admired. That is, until last month.

This past Ramadan, the couple made headlines following an appearance on a daytime TV special. The episode became the subject of intense online chatter when a clip of Danish’s comments went viral. In said clip, he confidently asserts his Islamic right to four wives, emphasizing that nobody can take that right away, before clarifying – Ayeza smiling in front of him – that “for now,” he is content with her. Audiences went abuzz with analysis on his use of the word ‘filhaal’, translating to ‘for now’ (which he later defended & apologized for), and it sparked a larger conversation on the notion of Muslim men’s right to polygamy and, moreover, the culture surrounding the topic. The clip also, however, highlighted a deeper issue fundamentally attached to modern Pakistan and its collective psyche: religious illiteracy.

Religious illiteracy has corroded the moral fabric of the nation in ways that – forgive me for my tone – sometimes seem irredeemable. There are far more dangerous ways it's manifested, of course; for example, in cases of blasphemy allegations, honor killings, or sectarian violence. But this too is a phenomenon hard to ignore – it has a deeply human cost that’s growing by the day, as is amplified by and reflected in the media. Polygamy, in this context, becomes one more example of divine wisdom being exploited due to a lack of comprehension. Today, many routinely distort what was intended as a mercy into a license for indulgence. The popular imagination has detached religious rulings from the spirit of justice, compassion, and accountability that defines Islamic law. As expected, then, it is women who pay the price.

If we are going to have an honest conversation about the law, let’s have it – but that means doing so the right way, inclusive of context. Of course, I am no expert on fiqh. I am not denying what is codified in Islamic law. I simply aim to shed light on the fact that advocacy for one aspect of something must not overshadow or erase the truth of other equally important components. The Islamic wisdom behind the ruling of polygamy, laid out in the Qur’an and perfectly exemplified by the Prophet Muhammad (SAW)’s marriages, emphasizes the nobility of looking after widows (and thus orphans), divorceés, or women otherwise left without male protection in a society in which it's essentially necessary. I, too, am acquainted with women who are second wives in such situations, and empathize with them and their position. I recognize the mercy and compassion embedded in the legal framework God has provided us with. When the Quran, Surah an-Nisa, verse 3 explains that a man can have multiple wives, it goes on to say that is if he can treat them equally, which could very well not be possible. Thus, there is clearly mentioned not a possibility, but potentially even inevitability of injustice against the women in question, which would negate the purpose of the ruling in the first place.

The issue is that in Pakistan, the conversation remains confined, as always, to men’s rights in Islam, failing to acknowledge that God has also explicitly and generously, in His divine wisdom, mercy, and grace, accounted for women’s. To be fair, while the official law does require that men get written consent from their first wife before entering another nikkah, this is rarely enforced. That fact alone further speaks to the fundamental lack of Islamic knowledge and ethics that has become part and parcel of mainstream discourse in Pakistan, a larger crime with bloodier footprints.

The truth is, the crisis is grounded in the reality that just as I mentioned women in vulnerable situations above, there are too many stories of men taking second wives who don’t have those qualifying identifiers – who marry simply for desire, not duty, the consequences of which have been aptly portrayed through ‘entertainment’. The subject hasn’t evaded the entertainment industry; on the contrary, it’s seeped into our screens as countless television shows have captured the drama that comes with the topic, increasingly so in recent years. Take ARY’s Bismil, for example, a 2024 hit show starring veteran actor Nouman Ejaz. The show follows the story of a happy, wealthy family headed by patriarch and successful businessman TT (Ejaz), whose life is turned upside down when he marries a younger, middle–class woman. Spoilers ahead: the marriage triggers a chain of familial trauma that culminates, devastatingly, in his son’s suicide, and later, divorce from both of his wives. The injustice imposed upon the ‘original’ family is not a mere TV plot anymore. It’s the story of your neighbor, or her cousin, or your child’s classmate. While fictional, the storyline mirrors real–life tragedies unfolding behind closed doors across the country.

Paradoxically, despite its normalization, the practice still carries a significant air of dishonor. Many families, understandably, don’t want to marry their daughters into families where polygamy is practiced or tolerated. I have myself been witness to people getting divorced or having engagements broken upon finding out after the papers are signed that a man is already married, or even that his father has another wife. This conundrum is yet another reason this exploitation of God’s law remains a crime that keeps on giving. Its footprints shamelessly leave their marks on the heart of this country, and we find ourselves now standing in a sea of tears rising and roaring, forced to confront the question of what to do before it drowns us.

The foundation of any society and thus nation is the health of the family, and thus the welfare of women. This is the fundamental key so many remain blind to: where women are mistreated, a society can not flourish. On the list of issues facing Pakistani women, especially today, this is not number one by any means, but it can not be diminished, as it speaks to a primary reality underpinning a larger problem. Religious illiteracy is so widespread, accepted, and unquestioned that this phenomenon and its implications are no surprise; nevertheless, it must be challenged. Again, acknowledging the sensitivity of the topic and the potential for Islamophobes to misquote me, I feel compelled to reiterate that I am not disputing the Islamic permissibility of polygamy. I only wish to shed light on a troublesome reality increasingly apparent in modern Pakistani society, which is one more branch on a tree of problems relating to religious interpretation, abuse, and performativity in the country, particularly and ever so conveniently when it comes to women. I could rhetorically ask how we could have abandoned the prophetic example so, but that question mark can certainly be applied to much bigger issues.

The question is, why has it become such a cultural standard to herald men’s Islamic rights to something when they’re not, and realistically never will be, under threat? Why has this subject become so popular – and why are we ignoring the impacts this is having on our families and society at large? It is undeniable that we have cultivated a culture of normalizing the practice, even when it’s so obviously to the detriment of women. Realistically, our general concern for women has proven to be lukewarm, but won’t we at least acknowledge that it’s also destructive for society as a whole? The mental health toll of familial dysfunction, which is almost inevitable in such cases, as seen in Bismil, can not be understated or underestimated, nor can its consequences.

Now, it would be a significant lapse on my part if I failed to acknowledge another reason the phenomenon exists: our obsession with marriage in general. Pakistani society operates in a manner I can only describe as extremely unhealthy when it comes to sacred union. A full analysis of this fixation and its many manifestations (including extravagant weddings and a culture of excess) warrants another article, but for now, the point remains that marriage is the driving force of society in Pakistan. Not only are young people’s lives dictated by their impending nuptials, which is already problematic in and of itself, but the culture that’s been built and steadily maintained of a heavy in-law presence has effectively destroyed any semblance of prospects for a healthily functioning society.

Take, for instance, the 2023 ARY television show, Mein (ironically starring Ayeza Khan herself), which captures another angle of this increasingly common crisis. Khan’s character Mubashara is a divorcee who gets remarried to a family friend, played by Wahaj Ali, who ‘agrees’ to the marriage upon his father's coercion, despite being in love with and wishing to marry another character, Ayra. Spoiler alert: to nobody’s surprise, he ends up marrying Ayra as well. What this reflects is a deeply toxic component of our marriage–fixated culture and collective reality of enmeshed family dynamics. How many of these second (or more) marriages take place solely because of the often unreasonable demands of family? We have to address how young people stripped of autonomy over the most important decision of their life will inevitably have consequences not only on the individuals and future generations within that household, but on society as a whole. With autonomy so routinely denied, the idea of progress shifts from a genuine hope to a cruel joke. There is much more one could say about familial dynamics in Pakistan, but again, I’ll save it for another article. Mein isn’t the only show, of course, to shed light on this truth. Many shows have reflected this lived reality of women across the country, precisely because it’s not uncommon. And at the heart of it all lingers the common denominator: the disposability with which women are treated.

In every case, real or fictional, it is the woman who is minimized and ultimately suffers the most. So let’s ask ourselves: whose rights are constantly defended and needlessly advocated for on screen, from the pulpit, at the dinner table? And whose have consistently been and remain to this day under threat, erased, rewritten?

Tragically, we have twisted beyond recognition the sacred wisdom of God’s decree, and while we’re now witnessing its consequences, some continue to dawdle with their blindfolds. This conversation is only one thread in a wider, pressing tapestry – but it is a thread worth pulling. Until we end the cycle of treating women as expendable, this crime will keep on giving, and we shall remain a society robbed of a new tomorrow. If we desire a fresh dawn, let us treat God’s word with the grace it deserves.

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