Author: Kohsaar Baloch
Translated by Goran Baloch
In the dark hours of August 25th, Mahal Baloch, armed with an unyielding ideology, shattered the fragile silence of Bela with the thunderous roar of deadly explosions. With her radiant blood, she transformed the dark night into bright, moonlit sky, infusing courage and endurance into all the brave-hearts of motherland. Every tree and stone of the land began to sing songs in honor of their martyred sons and daughters, the fidaayees.
Every part of Mahal’s body challenged the blind eyes, mute tongues of Bela, and the colonized enemy. Whether it be the silence of Bela, the roaring waves of Gwadar’s sea, Shaal’s thunder, the black stones of Makran, the strongholds of Bolan, or the slow murmurs of Barkhan, the brides of the motherland, like Mahal, will rise like storms. With unmatched bravery, they will strike down all that is corrupt and vile, defending the motherland like walls of iron.
Today, with the spirit of unity, patriotism, and nationalism, the Baloch War of Independence sends a message to the entire world; In every facet of this struggle, Baloch women stand shoulder to shoulder with their brothers and ideological companions. Mothers, singing songs of bravery, drape their martyred sons in the Baloch national flag, allowing the motherland to embrace them. Sisters, with love and pride, welcome the explosives to their chests, just as Mahal and Sammu did before them.
The smile of Babar and the courage of Attah will live on forever. General Aslam’s ideology will continue to illuminate every corner of the motherland like a candle in the dark. To defend the Baloch seas and the motherland, just as Hammal Jihand once did, heroes like Mahal will always rise, ready to strike down the enemies, plucking their very eyes from their heads.
Maho, if I were to recount the stories of the brave, a thousand nights would pass without end. Maho, I know that before you left, you had already foreseen everything that would follow. You knew that the Baloch War of Independence would take on a new form after you, and that thousands of Baloch women would follow in your footsteps. But Maho, this time I have news for you. Maho, the enemy has been utterly shattered by your martyrdom, and now they are in a state of complete chaos.
Since your brave attack, the cowardly enemy has not found sleep for many nights. Their mercenary soldiers are paralyzed with fear, and they don’t know how to muster courage. Perhaps they try to hide their casualties from the world, but how can they erase the fear that has taken root in their hearts? Maho, you know your companions-brothers have turned all of Balochistan into a storm for the enemies.
The battle raged for three nights and two days, igniting the dead hearts of the cowardly enemy. The bravery of our fighters shattered the enemy’s courage for decades to come.
Maho, I have stopped writing much these days. I was never a great writer, but whenever my inner emotions overwhelm me, I can’t help but write.
For a long time, I’ve been thinking about giving up writing. I don’t know what emotions drove me to write to you after you left us. Maho, I know that right now you are sitting with Mother Shari Baloch, sharing with her the beauty of our motherland. You’ve rested your head on Sharul’s lap, and she is gently playing with your hair, while you answer her questions with a smile on your face.
Sharul must have asked you about Meeru and Mahu. Tell mother that Meeru is still unaware, playing in the innocence of his childhood, not yet mature. Mahu, however, now understands your ideology and is growing under the love and guidance you left behind. Share with mother that today, across all of Balochistan, there are endless rows of Baloch women standing proudly alongside their brothers—something the enemy never imagined.
Maho Jan, my dear sister, when you and my mother Sharul go to visit the other martyrs of our motherland, tell her on the way that her son sends her many greetings.
Kiss her hands and tell her that her love always gives me the strength to endure every hardship in life.
Maho, tell my mother that I am a little upset with you because it has been a while since you’ve appeared in my dreams. I don’t know whom to ask about you. Every night, your thoughts haunt me. Let her know not to delay; Every night I stay up late, hoping you might come. I have so much to discuss with you and many complaints to share, which is why I haven’t sent messages to anyone else—I’ve been waiting for you to return.
When Mahalu conveys all my messages to you, kiss her forehead and ensure she is never alone for even a moment. Mother, I want you to know that your son misses you deeply. Don’t take too long; I’m waiting for the day you will come.
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.