Recognizing the Baloch narrative, acknowledging their pain, and engaging in meaningful dialogue is the only way to pave the path towards genuine reconciliation. The wind that whips from the lands of Balochistan carries more than sand; it carries whispers of pain, stories of struggle, and a plea for justice that reverberates far beyond the provincial borders.

Today, in Islamabad, hundreds of voices rise in unison, weaving a tapestry of dissent against the alleged enforced disappearances and genocide of their people. It’s a protest fueled by decades of simmering frustration, ignited by the recent death of 24 year-old Balach Baloch, allegedly at the hands of state agencies. Dr. Mahrang Baloch’s 1,600 kilometer long march, a testament to unwavering resolve, culminated in a stark confrontation with Islamabad police.

Clashes erupted, painting a grim picture of a dialogue gone awry. While accusations of police brutality and state repression fill the air, official narratives counter with claims of violence incited by the protesters. The truth, perhaps, lies somewhere in the dust of conflicting narratives, buried beneath unheeded cries for justice. At the heart of the turmoil lies a potent question: are these isolated incidents of extrajudicial killings, or systematic efforts to silence a marginalized community?

Families torn apart by “missing persons,” mothers clutching faded photographs of loved ones vanished without a trace, paint a disturbing picture of enforced disappearances that continue to haunt Balochistan. The Counter-Terrorism Department (CTD), cast as the villain in this narrative, stands accused of playing a macabre role in this alleged campaign of repression. But the Baloch struggle transcends mere opposition to specific institutions. It’s a desperate call for recognition,

for the right to exist, for their voices to be heard and stories acknowledged. They seek not secession, but an end to the narrative of them being labeled “insurgents” or “terrorists.” They demand the dignity of due process, the right to live without the constant fear of arbitrary arrests and disappearances. The Islamabad protest is a microcosm of this larger struggle. It’s a platform for the unheard, a stage where narratives long suppressed find a voice. The demands are simple yet profound: the disbandment of the CTD,

the release of missing persons, and the cessation of violence. These are not demands born of radicalism, but of a longing for normalcy, for the basic human right to live with freedom and dignity. Yet, the road ahead remains shrouded in uncertainty. Will the government listen to the voices echoing from Islamabad? Will it address the grievances of a community long marginalized and unheard? Will justice prevail, or will the dust of Balochistan continue to conceal stories of pain and suffering?