The Cries of Hazara Mothers

This evening I visited Hazara graveyard since today is the seventh day when the martyrs of Mastung incidents are laid to rest. In Hazara traditions the third day after a person dies is observed by men where they go to graveyard to offer fatiha whereas the seventh day is specific for women where they visit the graveyard, offers Fatiha and distribute food among needy.

If I say today I see no distance between a mother and Allah then I am right for sure. There I saw a series of graves of Mastung martyrs. They were all young and their handsome pictures were displayed upon their graves. Graves whose soil was still moist telling that the dead young men are new in this city of graves. Around those young and moist graves I saw mothers, sisters,brothers and wives along with huge number of mourners. The martyrs were not alone today. They attracted a huge crowd over there who are mourning for their youth, future and the negligence of government who is causing an increase in the number of graves in Hazara Graveyard Alamdar road Quetta. 

I saw a young wife, she was the widow of Mr.Jawad Hussain a sepoy in Quetta police. The ill fate young woman just got married to him few days before his martyrdom. She was crying and crying and crying loud taking her deceased husband's name again and again. I saw her. She was young and so beautiful. Her eyes were swelled due to continuous weeping. Her black hair were showing the story of her youth and the number of days which she was going to live without her husband. She was shaking the tomb stone and calling her husband to respond then I switched my sight to a mother. Her cries were louder she was calling her son's name again and again. She was shouting for him and asking him to raise and embrace her. I look at the picture of his son he was handsome teen of just 17 years. He was wearing a scout's uniform and smiling. The feeling of just imagining of losing such a son is terrifying. It's breath taking. I just imagined him the darling of his mother. I just imagined how this cute little boy would be laying his head in his mother's lap telling her about his day. And now the mother is empty lapped. She was all alone with the pain of losing her son in another "terrorist" act. 

I looked around me I saw many shaheeds, all of them were young hazara men including officers and students, common men and poor. My sight stopped at Aqeel Raza's grave. He was killed in BUITEMS bus attack 2 years ago. Along his grave I saw his friend's grave too. They were class fellows. The day this deadly blast happened. The engineering department of BUITEMS was having an after exam party. Aqeel and his friends were active part of it. Suited booted and perfumed Aqeel never knew that today he is not going to attend a party but a meeting with Allah. He and his fellows never knew that this party will be their farewell from this temporary world. My brother was also in the same bus and attending the same party but it was all by Allah's grace that he and my cousin skipped this deadly blast. It was a miracle and we are all thankful till end of our lives to Almighty Allah. According to my bro the environment in the bus was so lively. Everyone was so happy and listening to music. They were nicely clothed and thinking of funniest things they would do in the party and then suddenly a powerful blast occurred which turned every thing in to darkness, blood and cries of young flowers. 

I was standing in the Hazara graveyard on the 7th day of martyrs of Mastung and I was surrounded by numerous tales of misery, disappointment, death and cries of mothers. 

I was crying too over the situation my nation is experiencing. No nobody is doing anything. Government is sleeping. They have no will in eliminating this monster of death over Hazara Nation. The leaders of the time have no sympathy, they have no apathy for Hazara nation. I wish Mr. Prime Minister could visit Hazara Graveyard today when he is in Quetta. I hope after seeing the pictures of our shaheeds he can think of them as his sons. I wish he could find resemblance of Hassan Nawaz in any of them. I wish he could feel the pain of a mother or a father who raised his son after so many hardships. I wish … I wish we could stop the cries of Hazara mothers.