Written by Maryam Mohammad
Every night, before closing our eyes, we think about yesterday, about a new day, about a new sun. We wonder: does it come without fragility? Does it come without loss? But fears don’t come without reason—they have many reasons. These fears have been with us since 2009. They have been attacking our minds, our consciousness, for decades. Yet, these fears have no voices. These are voiceless fears. They are attacking us, burning us, snatching everything from us—even our national existence is being questioned.
We are silently drifting with the waves of a tyrannical storm. We are silently surrendering ourselves to tyranny, even though we cannot breathe. They press their feet upon our chests, and we only look at them hopelessly. Our silence gives them permission—as if our silence is saying: Do whatever you want with us. We are nothing. We are merely your slaves. You have full rights over us. Our lives, our health, our priceless possessions don’t matter—only your wishes matter.
You slaughter our loved ones like animals, but don’t worry—we won’t say anything, not even a single word. Why? It doesn’t matter if you kill me, my loved ones, or someone else. Be assured—we will say nothing. Not even a single word will leave our mouths. We have stitched our mouths shut. We have stitched our eyes closed. Now we are dumb. We are blind. We won’t speak. We won’t see.
Here, you are free—you can do anything to a voiceless people.
Yesterday, we lost a son, a brother, a hope, a life full of dreams—a future named Nabeel Baluch. Nabeel Baluch was a talented and punctual student at Tump College. He participated in many educational events and was the sole breadwinner for his family. He sometimes wrote poetry, and he created vlogs for his followers. His content always reflected the image of a Baloch personality. Through his vlogs, he represented Tump.
But you noticed. And you are the witness.
We did not say anything. We picked up his body silently, buried him silently, and returned home without saying a single word. We didn’t even show a wrinkle on our foreheads.
Don’t expect us to ask anything of you. No—never. We have compromised. We will face any oppression with a smile. We won’t raise our voices. We won’t stand against tyranny. We won’t disappoint you. That’s our promise.
But remember: before our surrender, before our silence, before our false promises, the blood of the martyrs had already made a promise to their motherland. They promised they would bring colour, they would shine, they would return in thousands—and they would take revenge.
Don’t forget. Don’t believe they will remain silent. No. Every drop of their blood will speak loudly. Their voices will break this vast silence. The noise of their voices will shatter every instrument of your tyranny.
We believe this silence will end. And the blood of the martyrs will bring colour.
How long will people remain silent? One day, they will speak—for themselves, for their loved ones. You can silence people by force, but it will not last forever. One day, the silence will be broken. Every chain of oppression will be shattered. And the oppressed will rise—free, like a bird released from its cage.
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.