Insurgency, terrorism, literature and kites
Rashed Rahman
The last week or so has been a very ‘busy’ one. On January 31, 2026, an unprecedented coordinated series of attacks in Balochistan rocked the country. Pakistan had barely got over that shock when an anti-Shia sectarian bomb blast in a mosque in Islamabad once again sent the country reeling. While this mayhem was afoot, Pakistan, particularly Lahore, witnessed Literary Festivals, the annual Asma Jahangir Conference and a revived Basant. Balochistan’s troubles are hardly new. The nationalist insurgency has been part of our news cycle since 2002. However, this time the extent and nature of the attacks suggested that the insurgent group Balochistan Liberation Army (BLA) is by now better organised and enjoys enhanced capability. The Islamabad bomb blast was claimed by the Islamic State (IS), in a reminder that while we concentrate our counterterrorism efforts against the Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), there still exist other fundamentalist terrorist groups like the IS, whose bloody signature was all over the Islamabad bomb blast.
Call it escape or relief, Lahore in particular, but also Karachi, were entertained to another annual feature: Literary Festivals. Timed to coincide with Lahore’s revived Basant, the sum total of all this activity could be taken as relief from our continuing woes. Whether it also enhanced our grasp of what the country faces, and accompanying it the virtual collapse of our intelligentsia, is a matter for deep introspection. Terrorism is the fallout of our decades-old engagement in Afghanistan, with the final result of all these efforts and sacrifices less than satisfactory, to put it mildly.
Balochistan found a questioning audience at the Asma Jahangir Conference, particularly in response to Akhtar Mengal’s hard-hitting speech, in which he castigated the powers that be with failure to engage with the peaceful nationalist camp for a way out of the morass the province seems trapped in. As part of his exposition on the missing persons issue, he referred to the assassination of his brother, Asad Mengal in the 1970s struggle in Balochistan, when Asad and his companion Ahmed Shah Kurd were killed in Karachi, their bodies disappeared, leaving only their blood stained car as a tragic reminder. Akhtar Mengal’s argument was that his family was never contacted regarding Asad Mengal’s disappearance. He said the same playbook of enforced disappearances still sears the soul of his province’s people, arguing for a political solution through negotiations with the peaceful nationalist forces. It remains to be seen however, whether his pleas again fall on deaf ears, particularly since now the state’s narrative describes both the Baloch insurgents and TTP, etc, as India-backed terrorists. With this maximalist description dominant, Akhtar Mengal’s voice promises to once again be lost in a sea of tragic longing, without change.
Pakistan has a penchant for latching on to what seems like a good promotional idea. After Ameena Syed, when she was still heading Oxford University Press in Pakistan, established the Karachi Literary Festival as a go-to annual get together, Literary Festivals have bloomed all over the country like spring flowers. The Lahore Literary Festival was the first to follow, and by now, big cities and little, all seem to savour their own annual literary festivals. While I would be the last one to decry such activity in an otherwise increasingly barren intellectual and cultural milieu that has overtaken us, one may be forgiven for questioning the quality of the fare now available in these literary festivals. The vacuum inside is sought to be filled with contributions from guest participants from abroad, with local talent, struggling as it is, demoted to a secondary status. Are we then truly rid of our colonial hangovers or is this merely wishful thinking?
Lahore’s sorely missed Basant festival returned after an absence of 19 years, rendering the younger generation enthusiastic newcomers to the city’s once famed festival heralding the arrival of spring. Lahoris, and their many keen compatriots from all over the country, gathered to fly kites, play music and enjoy the city’s delicious cuisine, with strict SOPs largely followed that prevented the fatal accidents of yore (largely kite strings cutting motorcyclists’ throats). The Punjab government of Maryam Nawaz deserves our commendation for restoring the Basant spirit to a deprived Lahore. But the revival also makes one wonder whether the original ban made any sense. The critical problem was string being manufactured that was fatal when it met human flesh. If such string could be prevented from being manufactured now, and sparing Lahoris those tragedies of yesteryear, why could this not have been done 19 years ago instead of throwing the baby out with the bathwater by banning the festival entire? One can only call this our penchant for doing things without even a smidgin of thought, and then moaning our loss…till now. May the spirit of Lahore Lahore Ai (Lahore is Lahore) once again march forward with the best the city has to offer to an otherwise troubled realm.
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