Author: Mahgunag Baloch
Each sunrise brings anguish and sorrow in weeping land of Balochistan. Term lockdown is a new trending word for the globe, but it exists in the life of this bleeding nation for centuries. It was not easy for the world to understand the true meaning of lockdown but now it seems much easier for them to resonate with Baloch. Let me take to my land, where each coming day is harder to survive. You may hear the word Baloch missing persons or may have come across this phrase somewhere on social media but must have ignored, right. The days start in normal life by getting up, fresh and having breakfast but in my weeping land days starts with receiving dead bodies of loved ones or with news of disappearances.
What could be more dreadful than not knowing where your loved ones are? Balochistan has become a land of missing persons, where among the numerous concerning issues, the most horrifying one is the enforced disappearances by the occupying state, thousands of victims never came back to their homes. They are brutally tortured and killed, many of them faced the barbarism even after their death, acid was poured on their faces and bodies, their mutilated bodies were hung on the trees or their bullet-riddled bodies were thrown on roadsides and jungles.
The fear rules in every valley, the eyes never sleep at night on this piece of land. The kidnapping of women is in its peak, lives are under the threat. Atrocities, like burning villages to abduction of men, women, children, elderly people or looting the valuables and livestock from almost every corner of Balochistan, has become a nasty routine. Abductions are not a new norm or practice in Balochistan. People of Balochistan are facing this inhuman treatment for decades and every passing day brings more news of abductions and the production of mutilated dead bodies.
Surviving in Balochistan is not cheerful but horrific. Living in a dark dried yard; where each piece of land is stained by the blood of innocent civilians. A land where millions of dreams got burned on each passing second with cruel winds. Evening winds take the grief of a bleeding nation to the globe so that it reminds the ignorant power holders, the nation miles away still waiting with hope to get free from all the pains. The international world has completely forgotten the nation long ago who in its shimmery cities and marvellous building care not for the huts that remain to wait for centuries for a candle to experience light perhaps this dream never turns to a reality. So-called human rights champions have lots of time to deliver inspiring speeches to attract millions of youth and write actionless rules but have zero time to notice the adorned dead bodies and cries of innocent people that live just a few kilometers away. Daughters and sons of martyrs read books and articles of humanity one after the other and get to a conclusion with disappointment that the beautiful word known as human rights is printed just to embellish the pages.
Cannibals have sworn to break the happiness and to drink the blood of the Baloch nation with their beautiful sword to recreate Hitler. The wounded birds of Balochistan knocked all the justice doors but returned with empty hands. Justice serving wings are too lost in the cosy comfort of their soft blankets that has no time for weeping nation. The international community is silently watching extreme Baloch genocide but afraid of uttering a single word. Mountains of Sayaji are wet with tears and the ground of Mashkay blemish with the blood of innocents. Nation has wept for centuries in the open sky now daughters of land became tearless as they found that humanity lost its preciousness and just left words without meaning in the written paper. Every single day extreme poverty hunts the innocent people of bleeding land. Greedy Hitler is busy flowing the floods of injustice and cruelty to each part of Balochistan. These red floods only bring to the mesmerizing rivers of a wounded land, its brave daughters and innocent sons tortured dead bodies. Ugly floods that clearly show not the season of the monsoon but the flavour of the massacre.
More than half of the nation is locked up in the never opening torture cells. Unending endure convinced Baloch youth that humanity is as dead as a doornail in this glamorous world and the only thing uncertain is how costly some of the survivors who still linger around will make the funeral. The Blood of thousands of plants of freedom has grown only a bud and not yet a flower. And there is no hope left that can boast of clean hands in the area of brotherhood. Every part of this land confronts a serious issue and needs urgent notice.
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.