Author: Saeeda Baloch
I am a sister, marked by the loss of my brother and nephew, taken from me more than three years ago. Their absence is a void that I cannot fill, and the uncertainty of their fate torments me daily. I know who took them, but I am forced to label them as unknown. I remember the face of the one with freshly dyed hair, those who approach under the cover of darkness, faces obscured and dressed in black. They are more than mere thieves; they are the shadows that have stolen my family, leaving me with nothing but an unbearable emptiness and tears that never seem to stop.
Every day, I feel the weight of their absence like a crushing burden. They have left behind mothers who cling to faded posters of their missing sons, hearts heavy with grief, and sisters like me, lost in a whirlwind of despair, unsure of where our beloved brothers have been taken.
I wander through a maze of unanswered questions, searching for answers that remain frustratingly out of reach. I have faced countless investigators and explored every avenue of inquiry, but each encounter leaves me more hollow than before. I plead for answers, but silence echoes back, deepening my sense of isolation. I yearn to write about this relentless pain, but the words escape me. My heart aches to express the depth of my sorrow, yet I cannot find the right notebook or the pen that could adequately convey this anguish. Is it even possible to articulate such suffering?
In this vast world, I am a helpless sister, a mother who knocks on doors, begging for news of her son and brother, desperate for a glimpse of hope. I long to understand what happened to them and why they are still hidden from us.
Three years represent six seasons of longing, each one marked by heartache and uncertainty. In the bitter cold of winter, I wonder if they have warm sweaters to shield them from the chill. During the oppressive heat of summer, I fret over whether they have even a single glass of water to quench their thirst. The repetition of these thoughts gnaws at my spirit, suffocating me, and tearing my heart apart piece by piece.
Yet, amidst the agony, I cling to the flicker of hope that one day they will return to me, smiling and whole, ready to be embraced once more. But how do I count the days until that moment? How will they measure their time in the darkness? Who is responsible for this unbearable stretch of years?
I am sleepless, consumed by anguish, yearning for the day when I can hold them close again, feeling their warmth and love. My heart is heavy with pain, and every moment without them feels like an eternity. The struggle to find peace within this torment is relentless, and I wonder if I will ever be whole again.