By: Rehana Baloch
Eid, a day of joy and blessings for countless people around the world, is a time of celebration, unity, and warmth. Yet, in a distant land called Balochistan, this sacred day serves as a bitter reminder of wounds that refuse to heal, wounds inflicted by the state in the name of “missing persons” — Laapata Afraad. This word holds the value of just one word for the world, but in Balochistan, it’s not merely a word—it carries the essence of life itself. From this word, the joys of families are intertwined; within this word, the lamps of hope and dreams are lit.
This word isn’t just a symbol, it’s the very heartbeat of existence, the cornerstone of survival, the pulse of every prayer whispered, and the light that guides the soul through the darkest of nights. Without this word, the entire landscape of joy, struggle, and hope would crumble into nothingness. It is life, it is love, it is everything Here, mothers, sisters, and daughters live in a perpetual state of agony, their hearts torn between hope and despair, as they wait for loved ones whose fates remain shrouded in uncertainty.
This endless waiting has become their torment; a cruel punishment they endure in silence. With each passing Eid, the festivity only deepens the sorrow in their souls, for they are haunted by the absence of those they hold dear. The joy of Eid is replaced with an ache that gnaws at them, a longing for the return of those they have lost. They don’t know when their agony will cease, when the heart-wrenching uncertainty will come to an end, or when they will be able to embrace their loved ones once again.
In places like Nushki, located about 150 kilometers southwest of Quetta, women have faced immense pain and struggle. They have fought tirelessly to raise their voices for the safe return of their loved ones, who have been forcibly taken. These women live in constant fear, but they continue to speak out, despite the danger. Their hearts break every day, but they refuse to remain silent. Their fight is a painful one, as they wait and hope for the safe release of those they love.
The women in Balochistan ask for something far more painful—the safe return of the ones they love, the ones who have been stolen away from their lives, leaving nothing but emptiness in their wake. Their eyes, swollen from sleepless nights, reflect the hopelessness of waiting, of not knowing whether they will ever see their sons, brothers, or fathers again.
“I haven’t worn new clothes or shoes since Rasheed was taken away,” said Khair Bibi, mother of Rasheed Baloch.
Rasheed Baloch, a student, was forcibly taken by the security forces in August 2014 from near Faqeeran, Nushki, Balochistan, and his whereabout remain unknown till day.
I knocked on every door I could think of, desperately hoping someone would help me find Rasheed. But every time, I was met with disappointment. My hands shake now, and my legs can barely carry me, but even after 11 years, I still wait for my Rasheed,” said Khair Bibi, her eyes filled with years of endless waiting.
Rasheed’s elder brother fought tirelessly, trying to find any way to bring his brother back, knocking on every door that he thought might help. But nothing came of it. He had no children back then, but now, with a baby boy of his own, the fear has only grown. “We can’t even let the boy step outside,” said Rasheed’s sister-in-law. “The fear of losing him, just like we lost Rasheed, haunts us. We are afraid to even send him to school, terrified that one day he, too, could vanish without a trace.”
Women in Baluchistan live with constant pain. Their eyes are swollen from crying, and their nights are sleepless. The long wait for their loved ones has drained them of all energy and joy. Every day, their hearts tremble in fear of losing those they love and receiving the mutilated bodies of those who disappeared at the hands of those in power.
I leave the door of my room open all night, even in the freezing cold, just in case my son comes back late. That way, he won’t have to wait outside,” said Bibi Hajira, Sami Mengal’s mother. What could be more painful than hearing a mother ask, ” what do you think he looks like after 15 years? Said Bibi Hajira Wiping her tears.
Sami Mengal, resident of Kili Badini, nushki, student at Balochistan University, was studying engineering. He was abducted on November 16, 2009. The incident happened on Doctor Bano Road in Quetta. Security forces and secret agencies took him. His family and friends have not heard from him since.
They sit on the cold, unforgiving roads, day after day, their bodies weary but their hearts filled with an unyielding plea. In their hands, they hold faded pictures of their loved ones—sons, brothers, fathers—those who have been taken from them, disappeared into the shadows, their fates unknown. These women do not march in celebration. They are not there for joy or pride. They are there because their voices have been silenced for too long, their cries unheard by those in power.
“They will bring my son back once his week is completed,” said Hafeeza, the mother of SarwarBaloch, who was abducted on March 31, 2024. Now, a whole year is passing, and still, no one knows where he is.
Sarwar Baloch a resident of kili Ghareebabad Nushki, was just 16 years old, but his life had already been weighed down with more sorrow than most could bear. At the age of 15, he lost his father, and with that loss, everything changed for him. being younger, instead of continuing his education, he stepped into the harsh world of adulthood far too soon. He opened a small shop where he sold petrol and diesel, not for his own dreams, but to keep his family afloat after his father’s death. Every day, he worked tirelessly, shouldering the burden of his mother and siblings, doing whatever he could to make sure they didn’t fall apart. His youth was stolen, replaced by the heavy responsibilities of survival, and all he wanted was to ease the pain for those he loved.
“He used to fight with me, and I would often say to him, ‘Gum bhay,’ which means ‘go disappear.’ I never knew he would disappear for real, by the hands of security forces and that thought shatters my heart,” recalled 13-year-old Laiba, sister of Sarwar Baloch.
“Our neighbors don’t even ask about him anymore. They probably think he was involved in something wrong. I beg them, what wrong could a 15-year-old boy possibly do?” said Hafeeza, her voice full of pain.
Hafeeza, the bravest woman in the entire family, was once very social and caring towards everyone around her. She dealt with every hardship so easily that no one else could, but now she has become silent, or perhaps hopeless, after the abduction of her son Sarwar.
“Whenever I drink water, I make sure it’s warm, no matter if it’s winter or summer,” said Hafeeza, her voice trembling with a deep, unspoken grief. “I do this because I wonder, will my son ever get a sip of water again, or has he been denied even that small comfort?”
However, in those early days after the abduction of Naseeb Badini, Bibi Sajida’s cries were so loud, so full of sorrow, that her children could not bear the sound. The walls of their home seemed to echo with her grief, a constant reminder of what had been taken from them. One day, as she worked to make naan on the tandoor, (Making breads) lost in thoughts of her missing son, her dress caught fire. The flames spread quickly, burning her body and hair, but even in the agony of being burned, she still cried out for Naseeb. recalled her Fara Naz, Elder sister of Naseeb Badini.
Naseeb Ullah Badini was taken from Nushki, near the Chaghi stop, on November 25, 2014, and since that day, no one has known where he is. His mother, Bibi Sajida, was shattered by his disappearance. The weight of this loss crushed her, and soon after, her health began to fail. She was diagnosed with diabetes, but the pain in her heart was too much to bear. Now, a heart attack has left her a lifeless figure on her bed. Every so often, her eyes flutter open, teary and searching, as if calling out for Naseeb.
Her pain was beyond anything the human body could endure. The fire that scorched her skin was nothing compared to the fire of loss inside her heart. She could feel the flames, but all she wanted was her son back. Added Fara Naz, Naseeb’s elder sister, who stood by helplessly, watching as their mother burned in both body and soul, asking for a son who is far away in the dark dungeons of the state. Through it all, the hope for his return never faded, no matter how deep the wound.
The fate of Baloch women is much harsher than one could expected.
Rehana, Rehmat Baloch’s fiancée, the woman who once envisioned a future filled with love, joy, and shared moments, has been waiting for him for 10 long, agonizing years. With every passing day, she holds on to the hope that he’ll return, but with each sunrise, that hope fades a little more. In her eyes, there is a haunting silence, a silent scream, a universe of unanswered questions. What happened to Rehmat Baloch? When will he come back? Does he still remember her; the life they were meant to build together?
On January 18, 2015, as he was caught up in the excitement and chaos of pre-wedding preparations, Rehmat Baloch, the son of Professor Abdul Wahid, was torn from his world. While coming from Shall (Quetta) making his way near the FC checkpost close to the Government Boys College in Nushki, he disappeared. His life, full of promises and dreams, was abruptly interrupted by an act of unimaginable cruelty—abducted by security forces and till day his whereabouts remain unknown.
The years have worn down Amina, the mother of Rehmat Baloch, being eldest of her children, leaving her with a heart full of longing, yet it refuses to give up. Through the dark, empty nights, through the endless waiting, she wonders how much longer she can endure the unbearable ache of not knowing. Sometimes she cries for Rehmat having no sister of his own who could shoulder her mother in the hardest of the times and who could go on streets holding her brother’s image in hand and asking for his safe release, her health dithered yet she waits.
The only demand of these helpless women is simple: bring their loved ones back into their sight. They don’t ask for anything more than to know where their sons, brothers, or fathers are. Keep them in police custody if they are guilty, but let them be seen, let them be heard. These mothers are asking for nothing but the law to be followed, the very constitution that was supposed to protect them and their families, but it is ignored by those in power.
Sometimes, the state administration accuses the Baloch of using women as shields, saying they bring them onto the streets to block the roads. But can anyone tell them the truth? The state has taken the men of their families, leaving no one else to stand up. These women, who could rarely go out, are now on the streets for days. They are doing this because of the state’s failed policies.
In the dead of night, the forces raid the homes of these poor families, breaking down doors and smashing through walls, as if the lives inside mean nothing. But even in the face of this brutality, these brave women stand tall. They do not bow down to fear. They stand firm against the cruelty they face, from being beaten with batons to enduring tear gas and shelling. They are arrested,harassed, and silenced, but still, they don’t give up. They fight for what is rightfully theirs: the truth, the return of their loved ones, and justice. Their strength is undeniable, and their struggle, no matter how painful, continues.