In the Wake of Your Abduction

Meraj Shad

Kindly book a ride for me, as I need to leave quickly to make sure I’m not late,” I asked, eager to start my journey.

After successfully arranging the ride, you expressed your desire to receive updates during the journey, even though the clock struck three in the silent embrace of the early morning. As I left Ormara behind, the coastal town fading into the distance, I inserted a SIM card into my mobile phone, hoping to contact you. Alas, my attempts to reach you were in vain, as your number failed to establish a connection. At that moment, Sartre’s words resurfaced in my thoughts, reminding me of the eternal dilemma posed by three o’clock—forever teetering between being too early or too late for any initiative. I remained uncertain whether this particular instance of three o’clock was ill-timed to inquire about your well-being or perhaps too early.

Upon arriving home, I had a satisfying breakfast and then peacefully fell asleep. However, as the evening woke me up from my calm sleep, my friends told me the upsetting news of your unexpected and puzzling disappearance—an unfortunate destiny that trapped you among the “Baloch Missing persons.” Your absence threw me into a storm of pain, and every piece of information I came across became a string I desperately tried to link to you.

During this difficult period, I found comfort in the writings of Franz Fanon, whose profound insights crossed my path. Fanon eloquently discussed societies plagued by lasting violence, revealing their transformation into privatized and organized entities. He argued that this violence went beyond simple political motives, and extended in the domain of economic activities.

Contemplating the dilemma of the Baloch Missing Persons, I realized that this issue was not a recent misery but an ancient malady that continued to escalate rapidly. It had morphed into a chilling economic enterprise. For instance, the grim discovery at Multan Nishtar Hospital revealed the presence of 500 dead bodies. Each one, as depicted in haunting photographs, bore the horrific signs of mutilation, with body parts conspicuously absent.

Such a sight provoked contemplation—were these remains callously discarded in the unforgiving wilderness, eaten up by starving beasts, or were they the disheartening remains of the Baloch missing persons, those imprisoned within the tormenting confines of Pakistani torture cells? It became evident that the medical industry played a significant role, as human body organs commanded unreasonable prices.

The colonizer, ever opportunistic, viewed the colonized and their land as sources of benefit, whether it be Saindak, CPEC, or the organs of their very beings. If there was profit to be gained, they would extract, exploit, and discard. These troubling thoughts consumed my mind, as I feared that the colonizer would not spare even your precious eyes, selling them off for their own gain. I remained oblivious to your whereabouts, unsure if your body would

decay in some obscure hospital in Punjab. But in my humble opinion, it would be preferable for your remains to rest in Tutak, because Tutak belongs to you.

Soon after your disappearance, the Balochistan National Party (BNP) issued a condemnation statement. Reading that statement reminded me once again of Fanon’s words. Indeed, BNP’s involvement in politics regarding the Baloch missing persons is also part of this economic activity.

As the missing persons issue gained more attention, it received significant coverage in both international and national media. Emotions ran high among the people of Balochistan. The state saw an opportunity to address the situation by selecting a political figure who could engage in politics surrounding the issue, instill hope in people’s hearts, and resolve the problems.

BNP also seized this opportunity and started engaging in politics related to the issue. However, it was entangled in the state’s policies. At times, they even asked Akhtar to swear and insult them. This pattern continued, with several commissions being formed, and grand claims and promises being made. BNP was given a place in the government, and funds were raised for the cause. And they were given seats of MPA and MNA.

Meanwhile, middle-class sardars and sardars in particular benefited financially and were further empowered. As part of the success of this policy, the blame for the disappearances shifted from the state to BNP. Akhtar knew well that resolving the missing persons problem was beyond his political capabilities. Perhaps he believed he could handle the situation better than his cousin, Shafeeq Mengal. In your condemnation statement, I also expressed my displeasure towards BNP.

After several days of your disappearance, I reached out to your brother for any updates. He informed me that our father had known a member of the death squad. This brought hope that your release might be imminent. When I asked if the death squad was affiliated with the BNP or the National Party, your brother’s response shattered my hope once again. ‘Not political death squads,’ he said.

Deep in contemplation, I found myself reflecting on the unsettling question of the death squads’ financial gains derived from the aspirations of desperate fathers and mothers. Created by the State with the explicit purpose of extracting information about the Baloch people and facilitating their disappearance, these ominous squads seamlessly integrated themselves into the economy of missing persons.

Over time, their nature underwent a transformation, assuming a different facade. Presently, this once-central death squad has assumed the role of a secondary force, operating with regularity and discretion. Despite being granted political and military immunity, their actions remained closely tied to the issue of missing persons. Countless innocent lives were whisked away by them, often demanding exorbitant ransoms when the state referred someone to them.

Once again, my mind was consumed by the haunting question of the exorbitant price these death squads would exact from your father. Could he muster the means to meet their demands? I couldn’t help but ponder the desolate place in Punjab where your remains would slowly decay, abandoned and forgotten. And for how long would the BNP continue to exploit your vanishing as a pawn for their own gain.? These thoughts lingered, casting a dark shadow over the uncertain future, where the echoes of your absence reverberated through the corridors of power.