ONCE again, Quetta is showered with fire and iron. Our brothers, sisters and children are caught in the rubble and blood, and we’re told that terrorists won’t be allowed to play with human lives. Reading and hearing these things reminded me of my first journey to Balochistan. I first visited Quetta in October 1980 and felt that it was a sensitive region, though I had no clear understanding of what that meant beyond some hearsay and biases. Some of that hearsay included stories of East Pakistan’s tragedy and a suspicion that certain forces were conspiring in Sindh’s affairs. However, I hadn’t heard anything like that about Balochistan, though I sensed its sensitivity.
More than twenty years later, I returned, but now as a journalist. In journalism, especially for newcomers, confidence can often exceed actual knowledge. At that time, with limited experience, I saw myself as a self-proclaimed expert on Balochistan and sought to uncover profound stories from its majestic mountains, valleys and mysterious caves. I indeed returned with many stories, but soon, newer truths emerged, challenging my initial understanding. This made me realize that those who claim to understand Balochistan often resemble the blind man searching for an elephant — touching different parts and concluding it’s like a pillar, a snake and so on, based on what they feel.
My journey toward understanding Balochistan might have continued this way if not for a significant intervention by Ammar Masood. Together with Khalid Fareed, Masood wrote a book, ‘’Mir Hazar Khan Marri”, which revolves around the life of Wado Marri. This biography captures not only an individual’s life and struggle but also the complex history, challenges and culture of Balochistan across generations. I have read many books on the region, but none like this, which explores a single person’s life while weaving in the broader narrative of an entire region and civilization. Much has been written about why Baloch people harbour resentment, but no one has explained how this resentment has shaped their psychology.
As Pakistanis, we carry the legacy of migration — a migration that, despite the passage of over seventy years, remains one of history’s most painful. While our elders bore this experience, for our generation, it has mostly turned into a political or intellectual discussion. But a few among us truly grasp the lasting emotional scars our elders endured. Meanwhile, in Balochistan, many people still endure displacement, having been forced to migrate to Afghanistan with their families and entire tribes. There, they organized armed groups that even the Soviets saluted.
Ammar Masood’s book reveals these forgotten histories, showing the struggles Baloch tribes faced as they left for Afghanistan. It depicts the lives of those who were born in exile, how they felt disconnected from Afghanistan once the Soviet Union was defeated, and the circumstances that forced them to abandon it. These displaced individuals faced the risk of losing their identity all over again. Imagine the anguish of people who were already uprooted from their homeland, prepared to fight against it, only to again risk becoming faceless. How would they have reacted if foreign powers tried to tempt them with new promises? And when they finally returned home and found their lands occupied by strangers, what trials did they face?
A pivotal moment in this journey is when the commander of an anti-Pakistan force finally realizes his true identity, bows to the soil of his homeland, salutes the Pakistani flag and pledges loyalty. This narrative of survival, betrayal and redemption is reminiscent of the epic tales of medieval warriors. Its depth extends beyond the 300-plus pages, resembling an unending saga.
Masood’s narrative doesn’t just end with the loyalty of once-enemies. His gripping book also uncovers where today’s separatists and armed rebels receive their weaponry and identifies those still igniting the fires of conflict. The story of Mir Hazar Khan Marri unveils hidden truths, even those left unwritten, which a discerning reader can interpret. By examining these unwritten layers, one can not only understand the root causes of current unrest but also learn how to address them — though not through the methods currently employed. When the Quetta Railway Station was rocked by explosions, it became clear that understanding Balochistan means understanding its soul. Ammar Masood’s book does just that, revealing the essence of Balochistan through the life story of one of its sons.
—This writer is former advisor to the president of Pakistan, author & mass media theorist.
(farooq.adilbhuta@gmail,com)
