Opinion | Blood on the Tracks: The Tragic Truth of the Balochistan Train Attack

This attack is not an isolated incident. It is part of a cycle of violence that has been turning for decades, fueled by oppression, neglect, and the brutal policies of a state that has treated Balochistan as nothing more than a colony.

The recent train attack in Balochistan is not just another tragic event in Pakistan’s troubled history. It is a stark reminder of a reality that the state itself refuses to acknowledge: Pakistan has systematically destroyed itself by committing endless atrocities against the Baloch people. This attack is not an isolated incident. It is part of a cycle of violence that has been turning for decades, fueled by oppression, neglect, and the brutal policies of a state that has treated Balochistan as nothing more than a colony.
. Balochistan, on the other hand, is a place that Pakistan has kept hidden from the world—a land where people disappear in the night, where villages are burned down, and where even the most peaceful voices are silenced before they can be heard. It is a place where injustice is so deeply rooted that incidents like this train attack no longer shock anyone. They are expected.
When the news first broke about the attack, the state’s reaction was predictable. Officials condemned the violence, blamed “terrorists,” and issued vague statements about maintaining law and order. But for anyone who understands Balochistan, this was just another scene in a familiar script. This was not just an attack on a train—it was an attack on the illusion that Pakistan still controls Balochistan. The attack happened because the people of Balochistan have been pushed beyond the point of desperation. It was an act of defiance, a response to years of humiliation and suffering. For decades, the Pakistani state has used the military and intelligence agencies to crush any form of dissent in Balochistan. Thousands have disappeared, their families left with nothing but silence. Students, intellectuals, activists—anyone who dares to speak out is either killed or forced into exile. And when people are left with no voice, they turn to violence.
To understand why incidents like this keep happening, we need to go back to 1948, when Balochistan was forcibly annexed by Pakistan. From that moment on, the Baloch people have been treated as outsiders in their own land. They have never been given the rights and autonomy they were promised. Instead, they have been subjected to military operations, economic exploitation, and systematic discrimination.
Pakistan has always justified its actions in Balochistan by claiming it is fighting separatism. But separatism did not arise in a vacuum. It was born out of oppression. When you rob people of their identity, steal their resources, and treat them as second-class citizens, resistance is inevitable. The Baloch people have fought back in different ways—through political movements, protests, and, when all else failed, armed struggle. And yet, Pakistan refuses to learn from its own history. It refuses to see that every act of repression only fuels the fire of resistance.
Pakistan often boasts about its so-called development projects in Balochistan, pointing to Gwadar and the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) as examples of progress. But ask any Baloch, and they will tell you the truth: these projects are not for them. The highways, ports, and railways are not meant to benefit the people of Balochistan. They are meant to extract wealth from their land while leaving them in poverty.
The Baloch people see their natural resources being plundered while they remain without basic facilities. Schools, hospitals, roads—everything is either neglected or non-existent. In Gwadar, fishermen are losing their livelihoods because the government is handing over their waters to Chinese companies. In the mountains and deserts, villages are being cleared out under the excuse of security operations. And yet, Pakistan expects the Baloch people to remain silent.
Every time an attack like this happens, Pakistan blames foreign powers. India, Afghanistan, Iran—someone is always accused of fueling Baloch insurgency. But the truth is much simpler: Pakistan is its own worst enemy. No external force could have done more damage to Pakistan than its own policies in Balochistan. It is the Pakistani military, the intelligence agencies, and the political elite who have turned Balochistan into a war zone.
Pakistan’s leaders refuse to ask the real question: why would a group of people want to separate in the first place? Why would they take up arms against their own state? The answer is clear to anyone willing to see it. When a government treats its people like enemies, it should not be surprised when they start acting like enemies. Balochistan was never given a choice. It was never treated with respect. And now, Pakistan is paying the price for its arrogance.
As a Kashmiri, I see a warning in Balochistan’s struggle. The way Pakistan treats Balochistan today is the way it once treated East Pakistan. It ignored the voices of the people, used brute force to suppress them, and refused to acknowledge their demands. The result? The creation of Bangladesh in 1971. Today, history is repeating itself in Balochistan. Pakistan is using the same playbook, expecting a different outcome. But nations are not held together by force alone. The cracks are already showing.
For those of us who understand the pain of occupation, the suffering of Balochistan is not just a political issue—it is a humanitarian crisis. The world is beginning to take notice, and Pakistan will soon find itself exposed for what it truly is: a state that destroys its own people in the name of nationalism.
The train attack is not an isolated event. It is part of a war that has been waged for decades. And unless Pakistan changes its course, this war will continue. More lives will be lost, more families will be shattered, and more blood will stain the soil of Balochistan.
But there is still a way out—if Pakistan has the courage to take it. That path begins with justice. It begins with acknowledging the wrongs of the past and committing to a future where Balochistan is treated with the dignity it deserves. That means ending enforced disappearances, stopping military operations, and allowing the Baloch people to decide their own fate. If Pakistan refuses to do this, then the future is clear. Balochistan will slip further away, just as East Pakistan did. And when that happens, Pakistan will have no one to blame but itself.
As I write this, I think about the families of those who lost their lives in the train attack. I think about the mothers who do not know if their sons will ever return home. I think about the children growing up in a land where survival is a daily struggle. And I wonder: how long will Pakistan keep pretending that everything is fine? How long will it keep sacrificing its own people at the altar of power?
The train tracks of Balochistan are soaked in blood, but they do not just carry the bodies of the dead. They carry the weight of a nation’s failures. And until Pakistan finds the courage to face the truth, those tracks will continue to run red.

The Author, Advocate Tahir is a political commentator known for his fearless critique of state oppression and deep insights into South Asian conflicts. His work cuts through propaganda, exposing hidden truths and amplifying unheard voices. He can be reached at advocatetahir2024@gmail.com