Balochistan has once again borne witness to the blood of Pakistan’s finest. In the scorching heat of July 2025, three valiant sons of the soil—Major Muhammad Anwar Kakar, Major Zeyyad Saleem Awal, and Major Syed Rabnawaz Tariq—embraced shahadat while confronting the shadows of terrorism in its most venomous form.
These are not just names. They are stories of duty, courage, and the kind of sacrifice that should shake the conscience of a nation. And yet, what do we hear from our self-proclaimed rights defenders? Deafening silence.
Our Heroes: Blood in the Dust, Honor in the Sky
Major Anwar Kakar, hailing from Pishin, was martyred in Quetta on July 19, 2025, when a magnetic IED planted by Fitna Al Hindustan (FAH) terrorists targeted his vehicle near Jabl-e-Noor. A seasoned officer serving at HQ 12 Corps’ ISPR cell, he had earlier survived the 2019 Gwadar PC attack. But this time, the cowards found a window of deceit.
On July 23, Major Zeyyad Saleem Awal, son of Brig Muhammad Saleem, was leading an operation against FAH militants in Mach/Splinji. Despite being newly posted to 4 AK Regiment, he led from the front, embodying the ethos of “Fighting Four.” He embraced shahadat, while five soldiers were injured.
A few days earlier, on July 16, Major Syed Rabnawaz Tariq laid down his life in Jhao, Awaran. The young Second-in-Command of 7 Baloch Regiment eliminated three terrorists of the Indian-backed Fitnal-ul-Hindustan network before falling in battle. A father of two, and a proud son of the soil from Azad Jammu & Kashmir—his life is now etched in national memory.
These men didn’t fall in vague “incidents.” They were targeted by terror groups like FAH, whose foreign sponsors and local apologists thrive on chaos.
Condemning Terrorism Is Not Conditional
While the FAH media cells boasted of these attacks, no major nationalist leader in Balochistan condemned the killings. The silence from sub-nationalist politicians is not just strategic—it is morally bankrupt.
When a terrorist is neutralized in a security operation, we see tweets, protests, international letters, and fiery speeches. But when Pakistan Army officers—born of this very soil—are martyred, there is not even a single line of condolence.
This selective grief is not “local sensitivity.” It is cowardice coated in ideology, and the people of Balochistan see through it.
Political Apathy: The Real Enemy Behind the Curtain
Where are the mainstream political parties—the ones who marched to power on the slogans of peace and progress? After the success of Operation Zarb-e-Azb, there was a rare window of opportunity. Militancy had been beaten back. Security corridors had reopened. However, the government failed to follow through on reforms, job creation, and infrastructure development.
The martyrdom of officers like Maj Zeeyyad Saleem is a reminder that soldiers are not a substitute for economic policy. No brigade can create employment. No battalion can replace hospitals, schools, or civil courts.
Yet, even now, political leaders are absent from these zones—both physically and morally. No visits. No development. No accountability. Only statements, that too for terrorists not martyrs of Pakistan Army!
The state’s security apparatus has continuously protected the Federation, but the political elite has failed to protect the legitimacy of the Federation in the eyes of the people.
The People Deserve the Truth—and So Do the Martyrs
We must ask: Why is there more noise in Islamabad for banned militants than there is empathy for our shaheeds in Balochistan? Why does the state face international lectures for counterterrorism, while those who justify violence in the name of identity politics are treated like community leaders?
This is not merely a military issue. This is a narrative war, and those who remain neutral—or worse, apologetic—are not bystanders. They are accomplices.
Final Words: Salute to the Martyrs, Reminder to the Nation
Major Anwar, Major Zeeyyad, and Major Rabnawaz are not just names in military communiqués. They are fathers, sons, and brothers who defended our peace at the cost of their own.
If our political class cannot even acknowledge them, the public must.
Let this be a turning point—not just in policy, but in public memory. Let us name our schools after them, build stories around them, and remind every child that Pakistan still survives because men like these stood firm where others failed.
