Love is Blind tackled a dating taboo – and I was thrilled

As a Pakistani Muslim, distrust between Indian and Pakistani communities has been drilled into me from a young age.

My childhood best friend, who is Indian, once told me in those very early days her dad took time coming round to the idea of his kid befriending me. 

From my own parents, I had heard stories of family friends whose children’s relationships had been torn apart because one or both of the parents simply refused to accept their Indian partner. Or, in the rarer-than-rare case where they stayed together anyway, they were quickly ostracised from the community. 

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment it clicked, but at some point in my youth, I sadly accepted that Indians and Pakistanis weren’t meant to mix.

Outside of these circles, very few understand how wide this yawning chasm remains among second and third-generation immigrants to this day, even as we mark 78 years of partition this week. 

But aside from some fleeting discourse on the BBC’s A Suitable Boy adaptation, which tackles this topic from a historical lens, I have never seen it discussed or represented in mainstream media – until now.

In the most surprising turn of events, it was Love is Blind UK season two, of all places, which has brought it to the fore.

Spoilers ahead for season 2 of Love is Blind UK.

During their time in the pods (where participants must date without seeing one another), 32-year-old contestant Kal, who is half-Pakistani, and 29-year-old Sarover, who is Indian, make an instant connection.

A few dates in, they broach the topic of their heritage and quickly acknowledge ‘there could be conflict’ with Kal asking Sarover if her family would ever accept him.

I thought that might be the end of it, but the show shocked me by really giving this tension the time and space it deserved to explain and work through. 

As Kal tells the audience in a voiceover: ‘I’ve come here to find love, definitely, and I wouldn’t have expected to find it in Sarover. She’s got Indian heritage. I’ve got Pakistani heritage.

‘Historically, there’s been conflict and a massive divide between India and Pakistan. Ten, 15 years ago, me and her probably wouldn’t even be having a conversation.

‘Especially for the older generation, I know from experience, a parent with an Indian daughter would not want them dating a half-Pakistani or Pakistani guy. They just did not get on.’

It was heartening to see someone perfectly summarise the crisis that has been facing us for decades, and ruined people’s lives.

What is even more heartening is Sarover’s response, as she opens up to Kal: ‘Undoing so many years of upbringing, it took a long time. Over the years, even my grandparents are so open and we have so many mixed marriages in the family now.’

The pair get engaged and, although we are yet to see if their relationship can survive the prejudices of the outside world, even just getting this far feels revolutionary.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. This kind of representation on one of the most popular dating shows around could genuinely change perceptions of Pakistani-Indian relationships.

Of course, on a global scale, it’s always been known that the two countries have bad blood that runs as deep as the gaping wounds left by centuries of British colonial rule and the partition of India in 1947.

Just a few months ago, the neighbouring nations were on the brink of nuclear war due to the ongoing dispute over the territory of Kashmir.

It was a repeat of a situation my family had been trapped in when they visited Pakistan in 2019, while I stayed home in London. I was sitting terrified on the other side of my phone as the airspaces overhead shut down while both nations prepared for nuclear war. 

Thankfully, it didn’t come to that.

But this volatile political divide has permeated into the personal, impacting millions of diaspora across the world, 78 years on from partition.

One of my close friends is being forced to hide her relationship with a Muslim man from her parents out of fear of outright rejection, and vice versa.

Meanwhile, any relationship of this nature is still the subject of scandal and gossip in my local community, although it has become easier over the years.

This is far from a black and white issue. There’s religious prejudice, misguided national pride, and the rejection of ‘other’ in whatever form, stemming from both communities, which makes this a minefield wherever you land.

Online misinformation makes this a modern problem – not least as Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi continues to fuel Islamophobia and perpetuate the concept of love jihad – a false claim of Muslim men of converting Hindu women by marriage).

Love is Blind proves that this is a problem my community cannot afford to ignore, and for those far removed from this experience, I hope it proves an education for just how big this struggle remains for people like Kal, Sarover, and me. 

At one point, Kal jokes to Sarover: ‘Yeah, but listen, we can bridge the gap. We can mend the peace,’ to which Sarover quips: ‘Are we just gonna solve history?’. I laughed; it’s the same jokey conversation my Indian friends and I have had time and time again.

I’m under no illusions that Love is Blind will heal decades of bitterness but it’s a small salve that I hope one day grows into something bigger.
Or even just kickstarts a conversation in someone’s house.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. 

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