Ep. 7 | IZZAT: The Name of My Cage | Bint-e-Azhar

 

Act II 

The Lioness & The Jackal

•

The room Taya called his study was painfully spacious —

which was a whole damn joke, considering the man couldn’t even read the alphabet.

I entered soundlessly.

He stood with his back to me, hands clasped behind him, staring at the wall.

No — not the wall.

The CCTV monitors.

The faint blue glow of the monitors carved his majestic silhouette.

"Your husband is leaving," he said flatly.

Didn’t turn. Didn’t blink.

Like he’d been expecting me all along.

I raised my chin.

"And you’ll let him leave."

That steel in my voice finally made him turn.

His bushy eyebrow arched like a challenge.

"Really?"

"Yeah." I nodded, calm as storm clouds.

"Why?"

"First I will try to convince you of leaving him alone — he is innocent and of no use to you. Though I am innocent too, yet I am useful."

"That's it?" He squatted away a fly. And sighed. "Pathetic."

He flipped open his phone and began to dial, his eyes never leaving Iman passing in the doorway on the CCTV.

"I'm not done yet, Taya." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a chip.

"You'll let him go because ... our little buddy here?"

I smiled — a slow, wicked grin.

"He gossips."

I tossed the chip in the air. Caught it.

"And he gossips about you, Taya."

I didn’t flinch. He didn’t flinch. We held each other's gaze.

Then, in a calm — too calm — motion, he sank into his rolling chair. Tossing his phone away.

"Sit."

I smiled.

Two can play at the game. 

He made two cups of tea.

Mine with three cubes of sugar. His without.

"Drink."

I raised my cup but didn’t bring it to my lips.

"You think so low of your Taya, bitiya?" he tsked.

"I don’t poison. I stab."

The eerie way he said it made my blood pound in my ears.

But I couldn’t back off. Not now.

"You admit it?" I smiled.

"Well, that’s progress, Taya Ji. Because —"

I let the because hang in the air.

"Our not-so-little buddy sees everything."

I motioned my eyes toward the pen on my coat.

That stirred something in him.

His calm features began to crack.

Crack… in a laugh.

Thunderous. Rolling.

So intimidating, I almost flinched.

"Ohhoho. You're still a kid, Ramal, puttar," he wheezed between gasps.

"I thought you'd grown into something smart. But look at you — oh, still a kid."

My jaw tightened.

Or maybe that’s exactly what he wanted —

for me to shake, to fear, to rage.

So I loosened my jaw and batted my lashes.

"Kids are more annoying, Taya Ji, don’t you admit? A real pain in the rear? A thorn in the side?"

He leaned back and watched me.

"Why did he leave?"

"His mother’s sick."

"When will he return?"

"Never." I leaned back on the sofa.

He leaned in. "You think my men can’t bring him back?"

"You won’t send them." I sipped the tea and clicked my tongue.

"And why do you think that?" He sipped voicelessly.

"Because of the gifts I have for you." I flipped the chip on my thumb.

"Come on, Ramal. Let’s not waste time. Tell me like a good girl — what’s in it?"

"You sure you don’t want to snatch it from me, Taya?"

"Will I? No. Because you’ve made copies, haven’t you?"

"So smart." I flashed a grin.

"And because you’re eventually going to give it to me."

"Oh yeah?"

"Or you’re going to carry it to your grave."

I tilted my head.

"It just might have something regarding…"

He waited.

"Come on, Taya, ask me what’s in there. I like questions."

"What’s in it?" His voice was cold.

"Something about your land corruption…" I sang.

"And?" he asked, tersely.

"And the money in your offshore accounts…"

"And?" He was grinding his teeth now.

"And… and what?" I pouted. "What else could be there? Kya hai is chip me?"

I drummed my fingers on his desk and sang,

"Is chip me kya hai, kya hai? Is nanhi si chip me kya hai!"

"Stop!" he roared.

"Woah, Taya."

I circled my lips dramatically.

"You could’ve scared me. I’m so afraid of this high roar of yours. Now how am I supposed to tell you what else?"

"Stop it, Ramal." His jaw clenched.

"Stop before I lose it."

I tilted my head and studied him.

This man was a monster.

He’d pushed my father into drinking, and when the addiction sank its teeth in, he stripped him of everything.

Eventually, he took him from us.

And then his son — Naail — snatched me from my family.

I tapped a finger to my temple, as if still thinking.

"It might contain something about Naail too. Something he did with… the maids."

I chuckled, watching the red flare in Taya’s eyes.

"Chill, Taya. Naail couldn’t have done anything with the maids, right?

He wears such a heavy crown of izzat and ghairat on his turban, after all.

Remember what you said that night, Taya?"

"I. Know. What. I. Said."

A shudder ran through me.

I was crossing into dangerous territory.

Waking a lion.

But I couldn’t stop now.

"Yeah?" I took a sip from my tea and let out a loud slurp.

Taya hated sounds like that.

He rose to his full, towering height.

The cup shook in my hand.

"I know what I said," he repeated.

"And I still practice it. My son, Naail Chaudhary, will become the next leader of Jirga after me. And I'll make sure to erase all prints of his occasionall little playfulness."

"Little playfulness?" I clenched my jaw."Is that what you call attempt harassment? Is that what you call the epitome of Beghairti? Playing with others' Izzat? Others' sisters and daughters?" I rose from my chair and kicked it so hard it slammed against the marble.

"Shhh!" Taya put a finger on his lips. "You're too loud for a girl, beti. Wish you were a son. My son. Or..." He smirked. "my daughter in law?" Then he shook his head. "But alas, you're so badnaam as a be kirdar girl all over the village, that not the poorest peasant would make you his bride."

"And you were the one who spread all this about me!"

I yelled. The veins in my neck straining.

"Look," He flashed a wolfish grin. "I got under your skin."

Hot thick rage burned behind my eyes.

Yes. He's finally crawled under my skin.

"What do you want?" I asked, suddenly breathless.

His canines gleamed. "The chip and all its copies."

"Only if Naail doesn't become the next Jirga leader."

"That. He will be. I raised him to be one."

I crossed my arms. "Forget the chips then."

"Is that final?"

"Yes."

He stared for a beat, then leaned forward slightly.

"What if I kill you right now, Ramal?"

I didn’t blink.

"Then I'll die like a lioness. A sherni. As my husband calls me. Claws out. Head high. InshaAllah."

I jabbed a finger in his direction.

"And you — you'll snicker at my dead body like jackals. Kameene. Beghairat. And still so afraid of the lioness."

His smirk faltered — just a flicker.

But I saw it.

There was a beat of silent. And then

He whispered. “Don’t you fear me, Ramal?”

Arms outstretched, he stood like a god surveying the wreckage he’d made.

“After everything I destroyed—your life, your name...

All of it, undone with the snap of my fingers.”

Serpents of fury uncoiled in my chest—awakened and wild. Ready to be unleashed.

I stepped forward. “I fear no one but Allah. He alone commands hearts. He alone holds power.”

I stared into the eyes of the man who once visited our home as a sweet uncle, teaching me poetry. But now ruined lives for sport. 

“You, Taya, are drunk on borrowed power. And your zulm—your tyranny—will return you to dust.”

I exhaled, not in defeat, but in aching hope.

“You're still my Taya. Despite everything... I want Jannah for you too. Turn back. Please.”

His lip curled. “And if I don’t? What if I am more fascinated by Iblees than Adam, Ramal?"

My voice dropped to a hiss, heavy with the weight of generations.

“Then I say what the poet said:

‘Hum aman chahte hain, magar zulm ke khilaf.

Gar jang laazmi hai, to phir jang hi sahi.’”

Humor left his face. 

"You can go."

"What?" My brow knitted.

"You can go now, bitiya. The break to converse has ended." He leaned back, the look in his eyes of absolute sadness. Or mockery. "You missed it. Now let me give you the justice you're so fond of."

The hair on my neck pricked.

He knew. 

'The justice you're so fond of ' his tone betrayed.

That he knew of my conversation with Mahnoor.

Before I could pinpoint how, dizziness swept over me — sudden and absolute. My limbs turned to bags of stone.

"What-"

The door of his study started being banged with fists.

"Ramal!" Adn cried. "Open the door, Ramal."

I took a swift step towards the door. My vision blurred. My legs buckled.

"What did you-" My voice cracked. The world tilted taking me to the floor.

Taya crouched beside me. "No, I didn't give you poison, puttar. I don't poison, remember? But

... A little dose of sleep? No offense."

I wanted to scream. To snatch  that greyed mustache off his monstrous face.

Dark spots crept my vision

My gaze floated to the CCTV, Adn being dragged by three men.

Taya’s lips stretching in a wolfish grin. "Ghulam Mustafa se panga? Mehenga parhega." 

And then blackness swallowed me whole.

• 

To be continued...

Written by © Bint-e-Azhar ✒️ 

-

Aham aham… 🗣️

So… how was the chapter?

And to all my dear Ramal fans out there -

 breathe in, breathe out… What will happen now?