Writer: Abeer Baloch
In the heart of Balochistan lies Bolan, a land known for its natural springs, where water, cold and clear, flows from ancient mountains, feeding the earth for ages without fail. Its valleys hum with the whisper of life, safe from the harsh sun that bakes the wider desert. But for Zeeshan, on those fateful days, Bolan’s generous embrace offered not a single drop. The very land, usually a sanctuary of flowing water, seemed to hold its breath, a silent witness to a war against a harsh rule as old and unbroken as the cruelty of Yazid.
This was a fight born of years of unfairness, a struggle for a nation’s spirit against those who aimed to crush it. In the stark, moonlit stretch of Bolan, where the sky sparkled with uncaring stars and the cold night air bit deep, the Baloch Liberation Army launched Operation Dara-e-Bolan. From January 29th to 31st, 2024, for two endless days and nights, 385 freedom fighters, including 12 dedicated members of the Majeed Brigade, held their ground. They were few, but their determination was a fire against the vast, cold desert.
Among them was Zeeshan. As the hours turned into days, the battle raged and the unforgiving desert began to claim its own. His water supply, once a small comfort, dwindled to nothing. The sun, even in winter, seemed to pull the moisture from his very bones. His lips, once full of life, cracked like the dry earth around him, mirroring the deep cracks in a land desperate for hope. A deep thirst, a burning pain, became his constant friend. It was a thirst that whispered of Karbala, of the brave Abbas ibn Ali, who, in his own moment of ultimate sacrifice, faced the same cruel lack.
Through a crackling radio Zeeshan’s voice, rough and strained, cut through the noise of battle. “I have no water left ” he rasped “but I have so much more to give in this fight. Yet, this thirst… it eats at me. I cannot give up alive. Can I use the last bullet of philosophy?” His leader’s voice, steady and calm, came back through the static, “No, my son (Sangat) Be brave. Hold on.” And Zeeshan with a strength drawn from a source deeper than any mountain spring, fought on.
For another day, the battle continued, the thirst a burning fire inside him. The cold nights offered no comfort, only a deeper chill that made the internal fire worse. His dry lips, a clear sign of his strong resolve, showed his silent pain. Then, on the second day, a final call, filled with quiet dignity “We have a part to meet again.”(رخصت آف اوار اُن ) And then, the sharp, single sound of a bullet echoing through the vast, sorrowful mountains of Bolan. It was the “last bullet of philosophy,” a final act of rebellion, a refusal to give in, a statement of freedom etched into the very air.
Zeeshan, a brave son of the Baloch nation had set an example, his dry lips and firm spirit a clear reminder of the path of Abbas ibn Ali, who died in Karbala with a thirst that went beyond physical pain.
And so, the story of Dara-e-Bolan became woven with the timeless narrative of Karbala. The 12 devoted fighters Nadir Baloch, Jamal Baloch, Atta Baloch, Chakar Baloch, Hammal Momin, Nizam Baloch, Qasim Baloch, Salal Baloch, Saddam Baloch, Zeeshan Zehri, Wadood Baloch and Zeeshan Rind each stood as clear proof of their shared courage and loyalty, much like the loyal friends who stood with Imam Hussain. Their numbers, though small against the wave of oppression, mirrored the brave few who chose honor over surrender.
Bolan, the land of constant springs, saw a thirst that day unlike any it had known. For Zeeshan ! and for those who fought alongside him, the waterfalls that never run dry offered no comfort only the stark truth of their sacrifice. Their honesty in the face of huge odds, their deep courage, their defense of their homeland and their strong loyalty to their cause, echo through the valleys a sad song carried by the wind, a lesson carved into the very rock of the mountains. The sorrow of Bolan’s peaks usually protectors of life, now held the weight of a deep loss, and the lasting meaning of a thirst for fairness that could not be put out by water, only by the ultimate sacrifice.
