Ep.3 I IZZAT: The Name of My Cage | A Thriller, A Tragedy, A Family Horror • By Bint-e-Azhar

 Episode 3

Of Wolves and Lathis

“Where’s Iman Sahab?”

That was my first question as I sat at the dining table.

“He ate earlier,” Adn said.

“Meaning?” I folded my arms.

“Meaning, I made him eat earlier so he wouldn’t have to sit with us.”

“Sahi kiya. We are not going to admit be-sharmi,” Abba said, looking up from his plate of biryani for the first time.

My vision blurred at the sound of his voice.

Donning a turban and pathani suit, yet never as intimidating as Taya, my Abba had once been an engineer — until Taya dragged him into this rotting feudal world.

“If he’s my husband,” I said softly, “how is this be-sharmi, Abba?”

“Stay in your limits, Ramal,” he ground his teeth, his mustache twitching from the force.

“You’ve already troubled us enough. Our reputation. Our honor. Sab mitti mein mila diya tu ne.”

“Then why invite me? Just to lecture me?”

“Enough!”

Taya entered. The air in the dining room thinned as he thundered in.

“You’ll see why we invited you soon.”

My legs turned to jelly. My palms, clammy.

But I raised my chin.

“How’s your son, Taya? Has he been called be-haya like me too — or not?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Ramal?” Abba snapped.

“Taya knows exactly what I mean.” I shrugged.

“Rehana,” Taya narrowed his eyes at Amma,

“make sure this girl doesn’t eat with us again.”

“As if I’m dying to eat with wolves.”

I kicked my chair back and stormed out to the rooftop kitchen.

---

“Bibi ji!”

A soft whisper stopped me.

I turned. The vani girl blinked up at me, her hand frozen mid-air, unsure whether to reach for me or not.

“Sit?” I scooted over.

“Thanks, Bibi ji.”

“Please don’t call me that. Technically, you’re my sister-in-law.”

She blushed. A grin crept onto my face too.

If not for the circumstances, she would’ve been the perfect choice for Adn.

“But I’m a v—”

“I know. But that doesn’t define your worth. This wasn’t your choice. To me, you’re a girl with wide eyes and vibrant dreams.”

She looked at me like I was something foreign.

Maybe no one had ever spoken to her that way.

“You must think I’m stupid with a big mouth, huh?”

She was quiet for a long moment. Then whispered,

“I think you’re an... angel.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Come on. I’m anything but.”

“I really mean it, Bibi ji. The way you cover your head, the noor on your face... but you’re a fierce kind of angel. You speak up against injustice.”

I let out a laugh.

“I used to be like you once. But then this system rotted me.”

She nodded gently.

“Well, thanks. That’s the first time I’ve heard something like that.”

A bitter laugh escaped me.

“To my family, I’m a spawn of the devil. A runaway. A—”

“Just because you’re different from them, Api.”

I blinked.

She flinched.

“Can I... call you that? Api? I had an elder sister your age.”

“I love it.” I touched her hand.

“But you didn’t tell me your name, chhoti.”

“Mahnoor.”

“Wow. Light of the moon. I’m Ramal — just... sand.”

“And your brother?” she asked, lashes lowering.

“What does his name mean?”

“Your dulha?” I smirked at her reddening cheeks.

“Adn — as in always. No idea why they gave us such dramatic names.”

I leaned closer.

“Wanna hear a joke, Mahnoor?”

She nodded, eyes gleaming.

“Before Abba got... twisted by Taya, he was a funny, lively man. Once, a relative wanted a very unique name for his newborn. Abba suggested names of Sahaba, prophets — but the man kept asking for more unique names. I still remember the shake of his head, ‘Nahi, Murtaza Bhai, koi alag sa naam batao.’”

“Then?”

“Then Abba said, ‘Name him Godzilla.’ The guy lit up. Then Abba said, ‘Anaconda.’ He was even happier.”

I laughed, clutching my stomach.

Mahnoor’s laughter rang like bells.

There was something wild and free about it — an anthem of rebellion in this gilded cage.

I smiled and turned on the stove to make tea.

“Wait!”

She gasped.

“What are you doing, Api?”

“Making tea. For us friends.” I winked.

“No! Please, no.”

She took the sugar jar from me.

“I’m your servant. I’m meant to serve you—”

“It’s okay, Mahi.” I took the jar back.

“Allah’s given me two hands. I can serve myself. And never say that about yourself again.”

As the tea simmered, silence grew between us.

That’s when I realized: Mahnoor was crying.

Twisting her maroon dupatta, her shoulders shaking silently.

“Mahnoor?”

She looked up, green eyes glittering.

“You really are an angel, Api. So pure. Why do they say such things about you? You don’t look like someone who ran away with a—”

“With a...?”

“With a lover.”

My heart sank.

“Th-they say that?” I stammered.

Adn’s fury.

Abba’s silence.

Amma’s smiles with an edge.

That’s why.

They think I ran for... Oh God!

“Yes. They say you’re immoral. Be-haya. That no girl should be around you. Not even the maids are allowed to serve you.”

“Who says that, Mahnoor?”

“Your Taya, Tai, Saif Sahab, Naail Sahab... and some villagers.”

My throat closed.

Rotten breath. Creeping hands. Flashbacks clawed at me.

I ground my teeth and pushed them back.

“N-Naail?” I asked.

“Yes. He’s the worst. He stares at us all. His eyes feel like they’re... undressing us. He drinks. He makes the maids ‘entertain.’ I call in sick when he’s around.”

“Do others know?”

I prayed she’d say no.

Abba must not know. Taya might not know.

“Your Abba, Amma, and Taya know,” she spat.

“Not sure about your brother.”

I curled my fists. Inhaled.

Mahnoor offered me water, and I gulped it down, spilling some on my dupatta.

“I’m sorry, Api. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t be.”

I turned to the tea. It boiled like my insides.

“I shouldn’t have said so much—”

“Not your fault, sweet cheeks.”

I touched her cheek and stood.

“I’ll be back.”

I needed air.

No — I needed Iman more than air.

At the door, I turned.

“Mahi?”

She looked up.

“I enjoyed your company. I promise I’ll get you justice too. Even if I have to go for their damned throats.”

She nodded.

---

Turned out Iman had gone to visit our fields with Mujtaba Chacha.

His voice was so cheerful on the phone — climbing a mango tree, promising he’d bring “souvenirs” for me — that I smiled, despite my renewed pain.

Then I headed to my garden.

The air played with the tendrils of my hair sneaking out from my dupatta.

I hugged myself tightly.

Papaya trees. Sunflowers. The wooden swing.

It was as if the garden hadn’t aged a bit. Only I had — by two years.

I closed my eyes and inhaled the fragrance of fruit and flowers.

Nostalgia hit hard.

But something was missing.

Every evening, Adn and I used to sneak out of the house and play—

Thud.

I turned, startled.

Two lathis lay on the ground.

Adn stood there, expression unreadable.

“Pick yours,” he rasped.

My throat wobbled with emotion.

Was he really asking me to play the game we once lived for?

Secrets, stories, and trust were once exchanged through the clash of lathis.

“You sure?” I asked, staring into the abyss of his eyes.

“I have questions,” he said.

I smirked. Of course, he did.

“Answers have a price.”

I picked up a lathi, tossing it from hand to hand, feeling its familiar weight.

“Save yourself first.”

He hurled his lathi at me.

I blocked it, muscles straining.

His brow arched.

“I’ve been practicing, brother dear.” I winked.

Soon, we were tangled in a slithering dance of lathi-bazi —

Each hit unraveling his buried rage...

Each block helping me dodge my truth.

“You don’t look guilty.”

I paused.

“Is that a question?”

“Yes.”

He blocked another strike.

“Why won’t you be guilty?”

“Because I didn’t commit a crime, Adn Chaudhary.”

I backed off — barely avoiding a blow to my stomach.

“Is running away with your lover not a crime in your dictionary?”

He roared, lunging with a jab that could’ve split my head.

“Wait—”

I gasped.

“Is this a real fight?”

“Yes.”

His chest heaved.

Hair stuck to his forehead.

His eyes — serpents of fury.

He was no longer the boy who once dressed my wounds after these playful duels.

He was something else now.

He hissed:

“I want to kill you, Ramal.”

For a moment, I couldn't breathe.

---

•~

To be Continued...

© Bint-e-Azhar ✒️

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⁉️How’s the story going for you so far?

🔥 Favorite line or moment?

Who do you trust more right now?

☐ Ramal 

☐ Iman

☐ Mahnoor

☐ Adn

☐ Taya