Posted by: Editor | June 23, 2009

Sectarian Killing: Another Murdered in Quetta

Talib Agha and others killed by unknown gunmen. (Jang Photo)

Talib Agha and others killed by unknown gunmen. (Jang Photo)

Quetta: Principal Commerce College, Amanat Ali Baig has been killed in Quetta. Target killing of a resident of Punjab Province is followed by the assassination of Talib Agha. Principal was attacked this morning. The two target killing incidents seem sectarian terrorism. Yet any religious outfit has not claimed responsibility. All previous incidents of sectarian terrorism in the past have been claimed by Lashkar-e-Jangvi.

Chief Minister Nawab Raisani and City Nazim have strongly condemned Talib Agha’s murder. Members of District Council have criticized the Govt. saying the incidents of target killing are happening in the city as if there is no Govt. and law enforcement agencies at all.

A complete shutter down strike is being observed in Quetta. It was called by Anjuman-e-Tajiraan.

Talib Agha will be laid to rest today Tuesday, June 23 in Hazara Graveyard, Alamdar Road, Quetta.


  1. My dear brothers and Sisters

    Are we focused on problems rather than solution?

    If that is the case then we will never can get out of these situations in Pakistan or Afghanistan as a Hazara Nation. We must focuse on solutions rather than long standing mesiry and historic problems…


  2. People like you never see success in their lives because their brain are too small to contain things and instead busy thinking of something nagative. At the end of the day we are all one…

  3. Its totaly insane blaming someone other than who were on board responsible for the incident. Almost All hazaras living in Aussi land today have come through this way. You should appreciate if someone is daring and able to rescue qaumas from dangrous areas like quetta and afghanistan. Don’t use your personal bias while commenting………thanks

  4. “Sacrifice”
    By Khalil Gibran!

    One day in the late part of June, as the people left the city for the mountain to avoid the heat of summer, I went as usual to the temple to meet Selma, carrying with me a little book of Andalusian poems. As I reached the temple I sat there waiting for Selma, glancing at intervals at the pages of my book, reciting those verses which filled my heart with ecstasy and brought to my soul the memory of the kings, poets, and knights who bade farewell to Granada, and left, with tears in their eyes and sorrow in their hearts, their palaces, institutions and hopes behind. In an hour I saw Selma walking in the midst of the gardens and I approaching the temple, leaning on her parasol as if she were carrying all the worries of the world upon her shoulders. As she entered the temple and sat by me, I noticed some sort of change in her eyes and I was anxious to inquire about it.

    Selma felt what was going on in my mind, and she put her hand on my head and said, “Come close to me, come my beloved, come and let me quench my thirst, for the hour of separation has come.”

    I asked her, “Did your husband find out about our meeting her?” She responded, “My husband does not care about me, neither does he know how I spend my time, for he is busy with those poor girls whom poverty has driven into the houses of ill fame; those girls who sell their bodies for bread, kneaded with blood and tears.”

    I inquired, “What prevents you from coming to this temple and sitting by me reverently before God? Is your soul requesting our separation.?”

    She answered with tears in her eyes, “No, my beloved, my spirit did not ask for separation, for you are a part of me. My eyes never get tired of looking at you, for you are their light; but if destiny ruled that I should walk the rough path of life loaded with shackles, would I be satisfied if your fate should be like mine?” Then she added, “I cannot say everything, because the tongue is mute with pain and cannot talk; the lips are sealed with misery and cannot move; all I can say to you is that I am afraid you may fall in the same trap I fell in.”

    When I asked, “What do you mean, Selma, and of whom are you afraid?” She covered her face with her hands and said, “The Bishop has already found out that once a month I have been leaving the grave which he buried me in.”

    I inquired, “Did the Bishop find out about our meetings here?” She answered, “If he did, you would not see me here sitting by you, but he is getting suspicious and he informed all his servants and guards to watch me closely. I am feeling that the house I live in and the path I walk on are all eyes watching me, and fingers pointing at me, and ears listening to the whisper of my thoughts.”

    She was silent for a while, and then she added, with tears pouring down her cheeks, “I am not afraid of the Bishop, for wetness does not scare the drowned, but I am afraid you might fall into the trap and become his prey; you are still young and free as the sunlight. I am not frightened of fate which has shot all its arrows in my breast, but I am afraid the serpent might bite your feet and detain you from climbing the mountain peak where the future awaits you with its pleasure and glory.”

    I said, “He who has not been bitten by the serpents of light and snapped at by the wolves of darkness will always be deceived by the days and nights. But listen, Selma, listen carefully; is separation the only means of avoiding people’s evils and meanness? Has the path of love and freedom been closed and is nothing left except submission to the will of the slaves of death?”

    She responded, “Nothing is left save separation and bidding each other farewell.”

    With rebellious spirit I took her hand and said excitedly, “We have yielded to the people’s will for a long time; since the time we met until this hour we have been led by the blind and have worshipped with them before their idols. Since the time I met you we have been in the hands of the Bishop like two balls which he has thrown around as he pleased. Are we going to submit to his will until death takes us away? Did God give us the breath of life to place it under death’s feet? Did He give us liberty to make it a shadow of slavery? He who extinguishes his spirit’s fire with his own hands is an infidel in the eyes of Heaven, for Heaven set the fire that burns in our spirits. He who does not rebel against oppression is doing himself injustice. I love you, Selma, and you love me, too; and Love is a precious treasure, it is God’s gift to sensitive and great spirits. Shall we throw this treasure away and let the pigs scatter it and trample on it? This world is full of wonder and beauty. Why are we living in this narrow tunnel which the Bishop and his assistants have dug out for us? Life is full of happiness and freedom; why don’t we take this heavy yoke off our shoulders and break the chains tied to our feet, and walk freely toward peace? Get up and let us leave this small temple for God’s great temple. Let us leave this country and all its slavery and ignorance for another country far away and unreached by the hands of the thieves. Let us go to the coast under the cover of night and catch a boat that will take us across the oceans, where we can find a new life full of happiness and understanding. Do not hesitate, Selma for these minutes are more precious to us than the crowns of kings and more sublime than the thrones of angels. Let us follow the column of light that leads us from this arid desert into the green fields where flowers and aromatic plants grow.”

    She shook her head and gazed at something invisible on the ceiling of the temple; a sorrowful smile appeared on her lips; then she said, “No, no my beloved. Heaven placed in my hand a cup, full of vinegar and gall; I forced myself to drink it in order to know the full bitterness at the bottom until nothing was left save a few drops, which I shall drink patiently. I am not worthy of a new life of love and peace; I am not strong enough for life’s pleasure and sweetness, because a bird with broken wings cannot fly in the spacious sky. The eyes that are accustomed to the dim light of a candle are not strong enough to stare at the sun. Do not talk to me of happiness; its memory makes me suffer. Mention not peace to me; its shadow frightens me; but look at me and I will show you the holy torch which Heaven has lighted in the ashes of my heart — you know that I love you as a mother loves her only child, and Love only taught me to protect you even from myself. It is Love, purified with fire, that stops me from following you to the farthest land. Love kills my desires so that you may live freely and virtuously. Limited love asks for possession of the beloved, but the unlimited asks only for itself. Love that comes between the naivet� and awakening of youth satisfies itself with possessing, and grows with embraces. But Love which is born in the firmament’s lap and has descended with the night’s secrets is not contended with anything but Eternity and immortality; it does not stand reverently before anything except deity.

    When I knew that the Bishop wanted to stop me from leaving his nephew’s house and to take my only pleasure away from me, I stood before the window of my room and looked toward the sea, thinking of the vast countries beyond it and the real freedom and personal independence which can be found there. I felt that I was living close to you, surrounded by the shadow of your spirit, submerged in the ocean of your affection. But all these thoughts which illuminate a woman’s heart and make her rebel against old customs and live in the shadow of freedom and justice, made me believe that I am weak and that our love is limited and feeble, unable to stand before the sun’s face. I cried like a king whose kingdom and treasure have been usurped, but immediately I saw your face through my tears and your eyes gazing at me and I remembered what you said to me once (Come, Selma, come and let us be strong towers before the tempest. Let us stand like brave soldiers before the enemy and face his weapons. If we are killed, we shall die as martyrs; and if we win, we shall live as heroes. Braving obstacles and hardships is nobler than retreat to tranquillity.) These words, my beloved, you uttered when the wings of death were hovering around my father’s bed; I remembered them yesterday when the wings of despair were hovering above my head. I strengthened myself and felt, while in the darkness of my prison, some sort of precious freedom easing our difficulties and diminishing our sorrows. I found out that our love was as deep as the ocean and as high as the stars and as spacious as the sky. I came here to see you, and in my weak spirit there is a new strength, and this strength is the ability to sacrifice a great thing in order to obtain a greater one; it is the sacrifice of my happiness so that you may remain virtuous and honourable in the eyes of the people and be far away from their treachery and persecution.

    In the past, when I came to this place I felt as if heavy chains were pulling down on me, but today I came here with a new determination that laughs at the shackles and shortens the way. I used to come to this temple like a scared phantom, but today I came like a brave woman who feels the urgency of sacrifice and knows the value of suffering, a woman who likes to protect the one she loves from the ignorant people and from her hungry spirit. I used to sit by you like a trembling shadow, but today I came here to show you my true self before Ishtar and Christ.

    I am a tree, grown in the shade, and today I stretched my branches to tremble for a while in the daylight. I came here to tell you good-bye, my beloved, and it is my hope that our farewell will be great and awful like our love. Let our farewell be like fire that bends the gold and makes it more resplendent.”

    Selma did not allow me to speak or protest, but she looked at me, her eyes glittering, her face retaining its dignity, seeming like an angel worthy of silence and respect. Then she flung herself upon me, something which she had never done before, and put her smooth arms around me and printed a long, deep, fiery kiss on my lips.

    As the sun went down, withdrawing its rays from those gardens and orchards, Selma moved to the middle of the temple and gazed along at its walls and corners as if she wanted to pour the light of her eyes on its pictures and symbols. Then she walked forward and reverently knelt before the picture of Christ and kissed His feet, and she whispered, “Oh, Christ, I have chosen Thy Cross and deserted Ishtar’s world of pleasure and happiness; I have worn the wreath of thorns and discarded the wreath of laurel and washed myself with blood and tears instead of perfume and scent; I have drunk vinegar and gall from a cup which was meant for wine and nectar; accept me, my Lord, among Thy followers and lead me toward Galilee with those who have chosen Thee, contended with their sufferings and delighted with their sorrows.”

    When she rose and looked at me and said, “Now I shall return happily to my dark cave, where horrible ghosts reside, Do not sympathize with me, my beloved, and do not feel sorry for me, because the soul that sees the shadow of God once will never be frightened, thereafter, of the ghosts of devils. And the eye that looks on heaven once will not be closed by the pains of the world.”

    Uttering these words, Selma left the place of worship; and I remained there lost in a deep sea of thoughts, absorbed in the world of revelation where God sits on the throne and the angels write down the acts of human beings, and the souls recite the tragedy of life, and the brides of Heaven sing the hymns of love, sorrow and immortality.

    Night had already come when I awakened from my swoon and found myself bewildered in the midst of the gardens, repeating the echo of every word uttered by Selma and remembering her silence, ,her actions, her movements, her expression and the touch of her hands, until I realized the meaning of farewell and the pain of lonesomeness. I was depressed and heart-broken. It was my first discovery of the fact that men, even if they are born free, will remain slaves of strict laws enacted by their forefathers; and that the firmament, which we imagine as unchanging, is the yielding of today to the will of tomorrow and submission of yesterday to the will of today — Many a time, since the night, I have thought of the spiritual law which made Selma prefer death to life, and many a time I have made a comparison between nobility of sacrifice and happiness of rebellion to find out which one is nobler and more beautiful; but until now I have distilled only one truth out of the whole matter, and this truth is sincerity, which makes all our deeds beautiful and honourable. And this sincerity was in Selma Karamy.

    • what is the conclusion and who really have read this all ……….


    We, Who Were Slain In Unlit Pathways
    Faiz Ahmed Faiz

    Inspired by the letters of Ethel and Julius Rosenberg

    Wishing for the roses of your lips
    we offered ourselves to a gallows’ twig
    Longing for the radiance of your glowing hands
    we let ourselves be slain in unlit pathways

    On the gallows away from our face
    darted the redness of your ruby lips,
    waved the playfulness of your youthful locks,
    shone the glow of the silver palms.

    When the evening of suffering settled in your alleys
    we came, as far as our steps could bring
    Words of poetry on our lips, a lamp of anguish in our hearts
    Our suffering was a testimony to your beauty
    See, we were faithful to our pledge
    We, who were slain in unlit pathways.

    If failure was our destined end
    your love was indeed our own doing.
    Who is to blame if all the roads of passion
    led to the killing grounds of separation.

    Picking up our flags from these grounds
    will march forth more caravans of your lovers
    For whose journeys’ sake, our footsteps have
    shortened the lengths of the agonizing quest
    For whose sake we have made universal
    by losing our lives, the pledge to your faithfulness
    We, who were slain in unlit pathways.

    (Montgomery Jail, 15 May 1954)

    (Prison Journal).



    I longed for your lips, dreamed of their roses:
    I was hanged from the dry branch of the scaffold.
    I wanted to touch your hands, their silver light:
    I was murdered in the half-light of dim lanes.

    And there where you were crucified,
    so far away from my words,
    you still were beautiful:
    color kept clinging to your lips�
    rapture was still vivid in your hair�
    light remained silvering in your hands.

    When the night of cruelty merged with the roads you had taked,
    I came as far as my feet could bring me,
    on my lips the phrase of a song,
    my heart lit up only by sorrow.
    This sorrow was my testimony to your beauty�
    Look! I remained a witness till the end,
    I who was killed in the darkest lanes.

    It�s true� that not to reach you was fate�
    but who�ll deny that to love you
    was entirely in my hands?
    So why complain if these matters of desire
    brought me inevitably to the execution grounds?

    Why complain? Holding up our sorrows as banners,
    new lovers will emerge
    from the lanes where we were killed
    and embark, in caravans, on those highways of desire.
    It�s because of them that we shortened the distances of sorrow,
    it�s because of them that we went out to make the world our own,
    we who were murdered in the darkest lanes.


  7. First of all I express my deeply condolences to those families who lost their love ones, life can be cruel on the unexpected. My prayers are with all Pakistani Hazaras Qawma on this difficult time. May Allah confort the families who lost their relatives and rest the martyrs’ souls in heaven.
    It was a very bad news that made me wonders but has to tolerate, it is not just on hazara people but all Pakistani citizens and government of Pakistan going to patient because Pakistan cultivated these seeds for innocent afghan people and now Pakistani people are harvesting. Binazer Botto was a kind mother of these Taliban. Afghan people burnt 30 years on Pakistani’s fires and now that fire took the Pakistans lap. Alama Iqbal says (Betars az ah mazloman ki hangam doha kardan——- Malaek az dar haq bahr esteqbal meayad)
    Innalaha wa ina ilahe rajeoon

  8. ya khuda reham kano da bale Hazara
    khuda tamam shahida ra jannath nasib kana wa mo tamam mo muthahid shuda yag kar kini amota ki MQM da karachi kada yali una da azu maqam rasida khuda di mo qoum ra niyad wa diyanath bida ki halath tamam mo khub shuno. aamin

  9. ay jawanan e hazara shad bash
    baad azi ya murg ya azad bash

  10. salam, i have read todays news on daily jang the home minster of balochistan said i know the gang who is killing and i know who is behind those killers but im helpless and police r helpless we can,t do any think with them , HERE U GO

    • Salam brothers

      I am punjabi pakistani & I am absolutely discussed with what is happening in quetta. First may allah grant paradise to amanat ali & give his family sabr.

      Hazara people are our brother & we love them. Hazara people are very kind & friendly. They have done so much for pakistan. Great Hazaras suchas Gen. Musa Khan helped build our defence against our enemies. Hazara people have more respect in pakistan than in afghanistan. Regardless if you are sunni, shia , pashton, punjabi. We are one & pakistani.

      Hazara & Pashtoon of balochistan we love you forever & may allah bring peace to our quetta & balochistan.

      From your brothers in Punjab province.

      Allah Hafiz

  11. Dear Brothers & Sisters

    This is the time to understand the situation. after the comments of the provincial interior minister of Balochistan on the florr of the assembly, it is now very clear to all that government agencies are behind all this killings. they have an agenda which is international, therefore it is quite simple that the GOVERNMENT AGENCIES are playing this game. provincial government cannot do anything although they are aware of it.
    Now the question is that what should the Nation do? in my opinion it has become tha game of now or never, we need to find out who these agents are and then we know wht to do.
    The governement is playing a very wrong game which will bounce one day and they will not get a way out. Dear Hazara brothers do something to bring governemtn agents to justice.

  12. i think that its time for hazaras to do some thing for their security. because in the jungle there is no law and order. either you kill or to be killed. and this situation is now in quetta.

    my condolence to faimly of syed talib agha and his friend and bodyguard.

    long live to hazara people.

    ay jawanani hazara shad bash
    bad azin marg ya azad bash.

  13. I think lashkare-e-jhangvi is actually ISI,and by killing us they want to somehow create fight between hazara and balouch since they failed to create that between pashtoon and balouch..we sould not act stupid but rather smart and cool ,by hunt them the way they hunt us ….after one or two of them being punished by hazara then they know who they are messing with.

  14. I think there is ISI behind all these killing .

    • but y ISI is doing this?? is there any benefit of them?? remember in war no one wins.

  15. today we and i lost a such wonderful person from our lifes,words cannot describe his incredible personality.he knew this wil happen to him,but he never let his pride down infront of our enemies.he lived his life as a honerd man.he wil be always alive in our hearts.may god rest his soul in peace and give a patience to his loved once.AMEN

  16. جای هزار غم اور افسوس استه. قصه کهنه لیکن جای اور کردار نیا.

    صرف اینمیقس که اگر حفاظت خو میخواهی باید ایم کیوایم جور شونی. ورنه هیج گپ از بدله مدله نزنین از خاطر که حوصله شی ندرین..

  17. Oh GOD!!!

    It is really sad to hear such kind of attacks which is called incident. I really fell sorry for my people who are experiencing such kind of situations our soul and heart is with his family and our people.
    I fell sorry to call such kind of people even a human being.It can’t be called an incident but a planed target. No words to describe them. God help our people.
    Laghnat bar zalemen

  18. Chi shuda gayrad hazara ra yak azmo ra zada, panj danay she daraz kanin….


  19. this tailban are the idiot and supid person in this whole world and i’m saying that don’t killed any hazara ok

  20. well i feel really sorry about it boz i hate the

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