Baloch Yakjehti Committee (BYC)
Baloch Yakjehti Committee (BYC)
May 29, 2025 at 05:03 PM
โฆฟ ๐ˆ๐ง ๐๐š๐ฅ๐จ๐œ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ๐ญ๐š๐ง, ๐ฅ๐ข๐Ÿ๐ž ๐๐จ๐ž๐ฌ ๐ง๐จ๐ญ ๐Ÿ๐ฎ๐ง๐œ๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐ฅ๐ข๐ค๐ž ๐ข๐ญ ๐๐จ๐ž๐ฌ ๐ข๐ง ๐จ๐ญ๐ก๐ž๐ซ ๐ฉ๐š๐ซ๐ญ๐ฌ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐ฐ๐จ๐ซ๐ฅ๐. ๐ˆ๐ญ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐๐ž๐Ÿ๐ข๐ง๐ž๐ ๐›๐ฒ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ฏ๐ž๐ข๐ฅ๐ฅ๐š๐ง๐œ๐ž, ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ข๐œ๐ข๐จ๐ง, ๐š๐ง๐ ๐œ๐จ๐ง๐ญ๐ซ๐จ๐ฅ. To live as a Baloch is to be constantly monitored, constantly questioned. Movement is restricted. Identity is criminalized. At every checkpoint, the state demands to know your name, your fatherโ€™s name, and to see your ID card โ€” not for security, but as a routine exercise in humiliation and control. They raid your home at night. They break down doors, abduct sons, and return themโ€”if at allโ€”cold, tortured, unrecognizable. And even when they are released, a worse fate follows. โฆฟ ๐—ง๐—ต๐—ฒ๐˜† ๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐—ฒ ๐—ธ๐—ถ๐—น๐—น๐—ฒ๐—ฑ ๐—น๐—ฎ๐˜๐—ฒ๐—ฟ. ๐—ง๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐—ด๐—ฒ๐˜๐—ฒ๐—ฑ. ๐— ๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐—ธ๐—ฒ๐—ฑ. ๐—ง๐—ฟ๐—ฎ๐—ฐ๐—ธ๐—ฒ๐—ฑ. ๐—˜๐˜…๐—ฒ๐—ฐ๐˜‚๐˜๐—ฒ๐—ฑ. Killed not just once, but over and over, in the silence of the media, and in the complicity of those who claim to care about human rights. This is not survival. This is โ€œbare lifeโ€ โ€” a life stripped of rights, of dignity, of future. This is the condition of Balochistan today: where death is not an interruption of life, but its constant backdrop. And yet, this is not a tragedy. This is not fate. This is the design of a brutal, militarized state. This is the violence of a genocidal system. A system that sees the Baloch people not as citizens, not as human beings, but as a problem to be managed. โฆฟ Just days ago, journalist Lateef Baloch was shot dead in front of his wife and children โ€” killed by death squads everyone knows are backed by the state. In Awaran, Naeem was killed during a raid. His mother was wounded by gunfire. His aunt, Hoori, was also killed in the same operation. In Washuk, a young man named Yunus was forcibly disappeared on May 24, 2025. Five days later, his sister Mahjabeen, a polio patient, was enforcedly disappeared from the Civil Hospital Hostel in Quetta. โฆฟ ๐—ง๐—ฒ๐—น๐—น ๐˜‚๐˜€: ๐˜„๐—ต๐—ถ๐—ฐ๐—ต ๐—น๐—ฎ๐˜„ ๐—ฎ๐—น๐—น๐—ผ๐˜„๐˜€ ๐˜๐—ต๐—ถ๐˜€? ๐—ช๐—ต๐—ถ๐—ฐ๐—ต ๐—ฐ๐—ผ๐—ป๐˜€๐˜๐—ถ๐˜๐˜‚๐˜๐—ถ๐—ผ๐—ป ๐—ด๐—ถ๐˜ƒ๐—ฒ๐˜€ ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐˜€๐˜๐—ฎ๐˜๐—ฒ ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—ฟ๐—ถ๐—ด๐—ต๐˜ ๐˜๐—ผ ๐—ธ๐—ถ๐—น๐—น, ๐—ฎ๐—ฏ๐—ฑ๐˜‚๐—ฐ๐˜, ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ฑ ๐—ฑ๐—ถ๐˜€๐—ฎ๐—ฝ๐—ฝ๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐—ฟ ๐—ฝ๐—ฒ๐—ผ๐—ฝ๐—น๐—ฒ ๐˜„๐—ถ๐˜๐—ต๐—ผ๐˜‚๐˜ ๐—ฐ๐—ต๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐—ด๐—ฒ ๐—ผ๐—ฟ ๐˜๐—ฟ๐—ถ๐—ฎ๐—น? And where is the media? Where are the academics? Where are the human rights defenders and the so-called intellectuals of Pakistan? Where are they when a Baloch journalist is killed in front of his family? When homes are raided and civilians shot inside their own houses? When women, the elderly, and disabled are abducted? Did you not know? Or did you know and look away? โฆฟ You wrote essays on justice and hosted conferences on peace. You spoke of democracy while a nation was dying. You sat across from generals at panel discussions and called it dialogue. You waited until the bodies became too many to ignore, and even then you asked the wrong questions. You asked, who are these people protesting? You asked, why is Mahrang Baloch angry? You asked, what does the Baloch Yakjehti Committee want? You never asked the state why it turned Balochistan into a war zone. You never asked the army why it runs this land like a conquered colony. You never asked why a generation of Baloch youth is either in a grave or in a dungeon. โฆฟ The Baloch Yakjehti Committee (BYC) was not born out of politics. It was born out of necessity. It was born in graveyards, in protest camps, in hospitals, in villages burned to silence. It was born where journalism refused to go, where academia dared not look. It came to remind you: That resistance is not terrorism. That dignity is not a crime. That silence, too, can be a weaponโ€”and you have used it well. BYC, and voices like Mahrang Baloch, are not the ones who must explain themselves. ๐—ฌ๐—ผ๐˜‚ ๐—บ๐˜‚๐˜€๐˜ ๐—ฒ๐˜…๐—ฝ๐—น๐—ฎ๐—ถ๐—ป. Youโ€”the journalist who never asked the right question. Youโ€”the professor who turned genocide into theory. Youโ€”the human rights defender who learned to look away. โฆฟ When the BYC stood up, it didnโ€™t just show the face of the stateโ€”it revealed your face, too. The one hidden behind neutrality, the one that always folds when it matters most. The face that smiles at the oppressor, and interrogates the oppressed. And when the moment came to choose, between the oppressed and the oppressor: you chose power. You chose safety. You chose the comfort of not knowing. When media, academics, and so-called human rights defenders turn a blind eye or twist the truth to serve the oppressor, they become part of the machinery that dehumanizes an entire nation. If you claim to stand for human rights, then stand now โ€” not with the oppressors, but with the oppressed. #stopbalochgenocide #releasebycleaders

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