If they are treating them—vulnerable women and children—this way in Islamabad, imagine how they treat them back in Balochistan.
Imagine a loved one who is lost, missing, without a trace, and the whereabouts are not being registered. Police not helping. District administration not helping. As if the person never ever existed. Or as if you speak in a language that no one understands.
Imagine, after all the failures, you reach the capital only to be treated like insects—water showers, threats, police raids, no media coverage.
Imagine getting missed in pursuit of your missing loved ones.
This winter is harsh. There’s been no sun since mid-December. It’s probably the harshest winter passing through the country. Blankets feel useless. And then there are people who left their homes in this same winter, marched all across the country to reach the capital, now sitting on roads, sleeping on pavements for days in and days out… For nothing.
Imagine the suffering with another layer of suffering and suffering becoming cliche itself. Overused. Overemphasized.
And then imagine again: if they treat them this way in Islamabad, how would they have treated them back in Balochistan.
