By Sangeen Baluch
Introduction
Sometimes, a name becomes destiny. Sometimes, the person who laughs at the meaning of their own name ends up proving it more than anyone else.
“Names are a true reflection of our personalities, aren’t they?”
Buland started laughing.
“Do you mean that my personality will resemble my name? The high-and-mighty one who never bows his head—isn’t that the meaning of my name?”
“Yes, exactly. That’s what I mean.”
He laughed even harder.
“Oh, please, leave it. Don’t even think about it. I am a complete coward. Whenever a shot is fired outside, I hide under countless blankets out of fear, and my body keeps trembling for half an hour.”
“We shall see whether those are really your fears. We are here, and we will witness it.”
At the time, it was just another conversation between friends, another moment of laughter. We laughed at his stories, at the way he described his fears, and at how strongly he denied the meaning hidden within his own name.
But time had its own answer.
Today, I am still here, and you are gone. Whenever I remember that conversation, I cannot help but smile. The same person who used to joke about being afraid proved everyone wrong. The boy who laughed at the meaning of his own name became the very definition of it.
Buland—the high-and-mighty one who never bowed.
You laughed at the idea once, but time proved that your name had been telling the truth all along. It is not merely a name; it is something far greater. To reduce its meaning to a simple noun would be to diminish its essence. Yet its true significance lies in coexistence, and its broader meaning reflects an entire school of thought. The very meaning of the name “Sarbuland” embodies a distinct form of cultural collectivism. It is a legacy of ancestral memory that is passed from generation to generation until it becomes part of a people’s folk tradition.
The Legacy of Resistance in Baloch History
Our national history bears witness to the fact that the Baloch way of thinking and consciousness has never allowed the Baloch people to become anything other than themselves. Therefore, the Baloch proudly embrace their history and take pride in their legacy of struggle.
War is a significant chapter in human history. Wherever people have lived and wherever civilisations have emerged, traces of war can be found. Yet when war becomes a means of national survival and collective consciousness, it acquires a different meaning altogether. Many people become so devoted to the struggle for preserving their nation and way of life that they willingly choose death itself.
The philosophy of self-sacrifice is ancient and can be found in the history of every nation. Socrates accepted the cup of poison in order to preserve the integrity of his philosophy. Hameed Baloch, who carried out his attack knowing the likely consequences, followed the same philosophy of sacrifice, a philosophy whose echo reached Baloch ears through the sound of gunfire. His sacrifice seemed to declare:
“The man targeted by my bullets may not die, but I certainly shall. Yet my death will stand as testimony to the awakening of my nation.”
If one reflects upon national history and the struggle for freedom, it becomes clear that self-sacrifice has always been a banner of resistance. Yet sacrifice requires awareness, understanding, and consciousness. Those who sacrifice themselves are people of insight and conviction. They understand the significance of the moment and recognise when such a step becomes necessary.
Sarbuland and the Philosophy of Sacrifice
Baloch history is filled with warriors and fighters. Yet in the present era, this struggle has drawn the attention of both the Baloch nation and the wider world. One of its defining characteristics is that it has managed to carve out a path despite confronting a powerful adversary. That path has been illuminated by self-sacrifice. Throughout this conflict, many young men have given themselves for the cause, and understanding their philosophy of sacrifice is even more important than merely praising their sacrifices.
A young man like Sarbuland, who emerged from the small village of Paroom, transformed the cries of Gwadar’s shores into the music of struggle from an early age and adorned the philosophy of resistance with new melodies and songs. These songs seemed to rise from within Sarbuland himself. They were melodies born from a collective human consciousness. When the song of Baloch freedom found its voice, it carried with it the promise of immortality and liberation. Through it, life was renewed and revived.
For the elevation of his principles, Sarbuland accepted death just as Socrates accepted poison. Yet Socrates chose that path to preserve his life’s work and philosophical legacy for future generations. Sarbuland, however, sacrificed himself so that his companions might breathe the air of Baloch freedom. His decision stands as a testament to his conviction and commitment.
An Inheritance Passed Through Generations
The enemy may possess greater material power. Yet within the minds of every Baloch child resonate the songs of freedom and national awakening. Defenders of liberty in the mould of Socrates will never be absent from among them. If the Baloch pass on any inheritance to their children, it is the inheritance of resistance. Generation after generation, they have preserved this legacy, nurturing the spirit of national consciousness and the aspiration for freedom.
This inheritance belongs to those descendants who will rise with dignity and honour, becoming truly Sarbuland—the exalted, the proud, and the unbowed.
Sarbuland, despite his young age, demonstrated to the state of Pakistan that no matter how powerful it may be, the Baloch, with whatever courage they possess, will continue to resist and will not allow it to live unchallenged in their homeland.
A Sacrifice for Future Generations
The way Sarbuland embraced the beauty of Gwadar with all his heart, placing himself in danger and ultimately sacrificing his life—have you ever stopped to ask for whom he did it? Did he not know that he might never witness the outcome of his actions?
As human beings, we are often selfish. Rarely do we act unless we expect something in return. Yet these heroes act for others, for their nation. They become selfless for your future and mine, sacrificing their today for our tomorrow.
Therefore, we must never allow their blood to be shed in vain. We must continue along the path they chose and think about the generations yet to come, giving up our own comforts for their future.
Even now, I feel a sense of shock, and my body begins to tremble whenever I remember his final words:
“Do not give yourself up for me; I would give myself up for you.”
After speaking those words, he may have left us physically, but ideologically he remains present. One can still imagine him soaring over the skies of Gwadar, a smile on his face and courage in his heart.
Conviction, Consciousness, and Commitment
These were not merely poetic words. They reflected his consciousness and revealed to the world the sincerity of his commitment. His decision was not the result of force or manipulation. Rather, it emerged from an ideological path that reflected his intentions and his devotion to his homeland. It was his attempt to strike a blow against what he viewed as oppression and, above all, to refuse to bow his head before it.
The day I lost you as both a mentor and a friend, I realised that you were never forced to choose this path. It was your ideology that had been shaped by the passage of time, by the hardships you witnessed, by the cries of mothers, and by the humiliation endured by sisters.
This decision was not sudden. It had been forming from the moment you became conscious of the world around you. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it began on the day you were born, or even from the first time you rested in the arms of your mother, Luma Hasina.
You were raised in a home filled with courage from the very beginning, perhaps from a time when few dared to stand against what you perceived as oppression. The values of resistance and bravery surrounded you long before you fully understood their meaning.
Looking back now, I realise that the path you chose was not unexpected. It had been taking shape within you for years, through every hardship, every injustice, and every wound carried by your people.
The Friend Behind the Fighter
Before history remembered Sarbuland as a fighter, I remember him as a friend.
We became friends because we shared the same ideology, the same dreams, and the same concerns for our homeland. Although we were of different genders, our friendship was built upon mutual respect and understanding. He never believed that the struggle for freedom belonged only to men. He believed that men and women were equal partners in the pursuit of freedom and national liberation. For him, commitment to a cause mattered more than anything else.
Our conversations were never ordinary. We spoke about books, history, politics, and the future of our homeland. He always encouraged me to read and learn, but he would also remind me that reading alone was not enough. One thing he often told me was:
“Do not just read; do something. Play your part in the struggle for freedom. Do not simply accept the chains of slavery.”
At the time, those words sounded like the advice of a friend. Today, they feel like a responsibility he left behind for all of us.
What made Sarbuland special was not only his courage but also his character. He was humble, caring, and full of life. He never treated people with arrogance. He listened, encouraged, and respected others. Even during difficult times, he carried a warmth that made people feel comfortable around him. He possessed the rare ability to discuss serious matters while still making people laugh.
That is why losing him was not merely the loss of a fighter; it was the loss of a friend, a mentor, and a person whose presence brought strength to those around him.
The day I heard the news of his sacrifice, something changed within me. Even today, whenever August arrives, I cannot see it as an ordinary month. For me, August has become a month of pride because it reminds me of the high-and-mighty one who helped make us an unconquered nation.
Conclusion
Today is the twentieth of August, the day I lost you, but also the day I gained you forever in the pages of history.
History will remember your courage and the sacrifice you made for what you believed was the future of your homeland, Balochistan. It will remember your unwavering commitment to your cause and the conviction with which you pursued it.
But I will remember you simply as “Sarbuland” — literally, “the high-and-mighty,” yet in its deeper sense, “the one who never bowed his head.”
You always stood tall against what you perceived as oppression, against the system, against the state, and against every form of subjugation. You desired freedom not only for yourself but also for your people. And when the moment came, you were prepared to die for that belief without hesitation.
You were never afraid of death. Instead, you embraced your homeland with the same tenderness and devotion that a mother shows her child.
Every fallen individual leaves behind a story. The final pages of history will remember yours just as they will remember your name: Sarbuland.
And perhaps that is the greatest truth of all. The young man who once laughed at the meaning of his own name ultimately became its embodiment. The one who joked about fear became a symbol of courage. The one who denied the meaning of his name spent his life proving it.
Sarbuland, the one who stood tall, remained steadfast, and never bowed his head.
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.