Author: Pirdhan Baloch
I am not a writer, neither do I know if anyone will read my writings. Yet, I am composing this for my very few surviving friends. The ones who have survived war, hunger, torture and forced disappearances. Unfortunately, at the time of writing this I am not sure Sajid falls in which category – the ones who survived it or the ones who couldn’t.
Sajid Hussain, mysteriously disappeared on 2nd March 2020 from Uppsala Sweden. Although Sajid belonged from the small village of which I was an inhabitant too, but he lived all his life in the busy metropolitan city of Karachi. However, he remained undeterred by the busy city life and continued to carry with him the calmness of the clear streams running in Nazar Abad, his hometown.
Despite belonging to the same village, my first meeting with Sajid was at a small tea stall in Karachi. Dr Naguman Baloch and Ubaid Shad were also in presence. This was the time when I had newly joined politics, whereas Sajid had mastered the arts. In a later meeting in our hometown I came to know that Sajid was not only my village fellow but a relative too. Our meetings were not very frequent.
Gradually the politics of Baloch nationalism surpassed the glam. The reality, as well as Pakistani brutalities, kicked in. Each day disclosed a new disappearance and a new friend was lost on weekly and at times daily basis.
Years passed by, I met Sajjid Hussain again and luckily this time it was a detailed meeting. We had a great discussion and debated everything from literature, politics, religion, books, stories to the changing circumstances of Balochistan and the international issues. Then he moved to Europe and one day he disappeared from there.
The mysterious disappearance of Sajid has left us at loss of words. Unsafe from the daily disappearances and killings, few lucky Baloch manage to escape to Europe. But, it now seems that they are not even safe in these otherwise secure countries. It appears the Baloch live to suffer only. More and more people on international level know about our sufferings but no one has bothered to try to make a difference and save us from this continued dreadful abyss.
Recently Sajid’s brother revealed that once Sajid had sent one of his friends the first chapter of his unfinished novel after getting life threats. He had asked his friend to handover the chapter to his daughter when she turns eighteen. I have been thinking about it since then. In the peaceful world the writers and literati spend decades to pen novels and books, but this is not the case with Baloch writers. We are aware of the fact that our lives are very short and therefore all of us are in a rush. Maybe that is the reason that Balochistan is full of young poets, writers and linguists. We are in a hurry to contribute our share as quickly as possible, for our lives are not mastered by the fate or nature but by a brutal occupier.
I am not sure if I would ever get to see Sajid again in the peace and silence of our beautiful hometown. But I think when Sajid’s novel gets published his daughter will see a short phrase and a signature, handwritten by Sajid himself.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of The Balochistan Post or any of its editors.