Jama Taqseem Episode 7 & 8

The most recent episodes of Jama Taqseem (7 & 8) delivered such an emotional blow. I felt Laila's suffocation more strongly than ever before. She glances at Qais and asks, almost hopelessly, "Woh kya kar le ga?" And that sentence stayed with me. Because it truly conveys how trapped she has become, not only by the home, but by the system itself.

Qais's response was what made the scenario so moving. For the first time, he stood up to his parents and proclaimed aloud that Laila is his izzat, and of course, being accused of anything so little as stealing would pain him. His irritation eventually boiled out, and Talha Chahour nailed it. The way his voice cracked as he battled with his mother, the way his face expressed fury and helplessness—it was such a real, well-acted moment.

All of this started with something really lovely. Qais agreed to assist Laila with the washing and dinner prep. So simple, right? But the way their faces lighted up as they sorted clothing and decided how much surf to use was touching. That tiny water fight between them seemed like a rare moment of fun in this usually oppressive home. Of course, their parents disliked seeing their "jawaan beta" performing "women's chores." That was enough to trigger the storm. Add Rashida's cunning doodh ki chori act, she conceals the milk and blames Laila and things quickly become nasty.

Despite all of this poison, the program continues to deliver gentle, romantic Laila-Qais moments that make it all worthwhile. For example, Qais arrives with sushi as a peace gift, muttering "sorry" while Laila pretends to be angry. She's hiding behind the door, but you can sense she's melting little. It's sweet and genuine, the type of moment that each couple in love can relate to.

Meanwhile, the home continues to reveal new levels of dysfunction. Rashida is so preoccupied with petty politics and ghar ki management that she entirely ignores her daughter Sidra's misery. Sidra is visibly in pain, and the only one who notices is Laila. And it's really difficult to see. It's so prevalent in our society for adults to quarrel about frivolous power plays while serious concerns are ignored.

I really like the introduction of young Faisal's character here. He is such a wonderful contrast to the older generation. He's youthful, clear-headed, and not afraid to expose the hypocrisy surrounding him. I couldn't help but grin when he gently chided his mother about how she undoubtedly hopes her spouse would help her from time to time. This boy understands it. He realizes that males helping out at home is not a sign of weakness, but rather of simple decency. And when he emphasizes that the Prophet (pbuh) himself undertook household tasks, the impact is different. He is the only one in the family who understands that Qais and Laila have the right to live their life as they choose.

However, Faisal is limited in his abilities. His mother, Nudrat, is unafraid to meddle in Qais and Laila's marriage, but she remains silent about Zeeshan. And let's be honest: Zeeshan is the true problem here. The kid's conduct is disturbing, but everyone ignores it since he is the "ladla beta". Faisal attempts to warn his mother, but he also withholds a few aspects since he understands how things operate in their household. The youngster is intelligent.

Then there's the issue of privilege and inequity. When Nighat's brother, Nadir, arrives with expensive presents, it feels like a smack in the face for everyone else. Rashida and her kids are only watching from a distance, but you can sense the animosity building. And what really struck me was Qais' reaction when Laila pointed it out: "Yeh to saalon se ho raha hai." Just because something has been going on for years doesn't mean it's correct. This statement precisely captures how accepted injustice gets in toxic homes.

Another thing that is becoming increasingly clear is the involvement of Qais' father. He is the source of so much of this rigidity. He is a traditionalist who refuses to accept change. While there's nothing wrong with appreciating culture, the issue arises when it suffocates everyone else. He's conducting the house and the company as if it's 1980, which is producing friction everywhere.

And that tension is gradually seeping into Qais and Laila's relationship. You can see fractures growing — not because they don't love one other, but because the world around them is eroding their relationship. Laila is working so hard to fit in, adjust, and stay strong. However, every time she is accused or silenced, a small piece of her spirit is chipped away.

I am curious to see what Qais does next. So far, he's been lovely and helpful, although he may be passive at times, trapped between his parents and his wife. Will he eventually step up for Laila? Will the weight of this poisonous household break them apart?

Episodes 7 and 8 provided us with everything: a romantic love story striving to live in a claustrophobic atmosphere, a terribly realistic picture of a tight joint family structure, and a peek of how everyday brutality lies under the word "tradition." It's scary, but it's also the type of storytelling that stays with you.