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Author: Mehlab Deen Baloch

I want to escape from all of what I have around me, from my home, from friends and from my birth place and also I want to escape from this world. I want to escape from my home because I cannot bear the pain my family is experiencing on daily basis. I cannot see my Mom’s sorrowful eyes nor do I have enough courage to tolerate the heart wrenching feelings of my elder sister Sammi. It is heart breaking when I see my elder brother he is also helpless in doing something for our consolation.

I want to escape Balochistan because I do not have a heart to see people who are desperately waiting for their loved ones. Children of Balochistan, instead of living their childhood peacefully and playing with toys, are chanting slogans for the release of their disappeared family members. Almost every child of Balochistan is Sammi waiting for Deen Mohammad, Every mother is Khadija waiting for Zakir Majeed, Every sister is Seema Baloch Waiting for Shabeer. I want to escape the land which has been blood bathing from innocent blood. Killers of humanity have complete immunity here, they can kill mother of Bramsh before her eyes and they can stab to death Kulsoom freely. No one is here to stop this brutality nor anyone pays heed to missing persons’ grievances. The families are roaming city to city to register their protest, but their never-ending struggle does not seems to bear any fruit.

I have spent my childhood in these worries. At a time when my age fellows were playing with their toys, I was recording protest and knocking every door of justice for the safe recovery of my BaBa. 11 long years have passed, but I and my family are still in a distressful situation, the situation in which we are spending our lives, is with us from June 28, 2009 when we heard the devastating news of abduction of my Father.

I recall those days when we had a happy family with my father among us. My father was a medical officer in district Khuzdar. He used to come to Mashkai, our home town, after every 4 months. I was not even able to wait those 4 to 5 hours when my father would tell us he was leaving for Mashkai. Baba always brought me toys. We used to protest to our father that we cannot wait for 4 long months. At that time we were living at Nali Mashkai. Nali is a beautiful place surrounded by date palms. Mashkai River glows across the village. On the southern side of the village there is an Army camp. The security personnel always used to interrogate my Baba where he was and why he always goes out of Mashkai. Despite knowing the fact that Baba was a medical doctor and his posting was in Khuzdar, the security personnel always used to torture us and my father by asking irrelevant questions.

When Baba was with us, all our relatives used to be so nice to us. They used to come to our home to visit us and always asked us if we needed their favor. But when BaBa went missing, all their artificial love also faded down.

But the person who to this day is raising us through all these difficulties is my mother. My mother has given us the reason to live. She has motivated us for searching and struggling for my Father. She put all her efforts for educating us. She gave us courage to go out and struggle for missing Baloch people.

My mother also spent her childhood in difficult conditions like baloch of that time did. She used to go a long way for bringing water for household use. She wanted to study in schools but there were no schools available for girls at that time. Because of not having school facilities, my mother did not study in schools. But after marrying my Father, Dr Deen Mohammed, my mother had learnt so much from him. It was my father’s company that made my mother strong enough even after his abduction my mother fought all difficulties alone. After my father’s abduction, my mother is all for us. I even cannot imagine how much my mother has faced difficulties for us. In front of us she pretends to be brave, but we know that there is a limit of patience. Perhaps sorrow can be hidden for one or two days, but it is not possible to hide it for 11 years.

Now we are passive toward each other’s feelings, because we are out of words, there are no words for our consolation. Distress of my father’s disappearance is unbearable, but we are still living with it. I still hope my father will come one day, this hope is the reason I am still alive. All courts and human rights groups have disappointed me. But I will never give up the hope of getting justice.


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.

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