With his embroidered cap and waistcoat over a beige shalwar kamiz and a beard and typically Baloch-accented Urdu to go with this attire, no one can tell that Abdullah is a Punjabi settler, and not an ethnic Baloch. Previously, he had never felt the need to adopt the local attire. But now, after more than 30 years in Quetta, he fears that if he does not look and act Baloch, like some other non-Baloch settlers in the city, he will be targeted.

“I am a taxi driver and have to visit different localities during the day,” he points out. “If I dress differently and go to a locality where the people are mostly Baloch, several questions would be put to me about my ethnic background and this could be risky.”

While not identifying specifically who his possible assailants could be, he hints at local Baloch elements perceived as venting their anger at the Pakistani military and state on them.

Several others share Abdullah’s fear. “We try not to stay outside our homes late at night unless it is absolutely necessary,” says Barkat, a Christian who works for a local hotel. “Religion is not the issue here. People risk a greater chance of being targeted if they have roots in Punjab.”

Although settlers have lived on Baloch soil for several decades now, and without feeling threatened in any way, matters have deteriorated greatly since the death of Nawab Akbar Khan Bugti in 2006.

“We haven’t settled here today. We have been living here for more than 50 years and we love this place,” says Aslam, a government servant whose family originally came to Quetta from Faisalabad. “We understand Baloch grievances. We support the Baloch in the struggle to win their rights. Yet we are targeted. What is our fault?”

Aslam has seen such targeting from close quarters. He narrates with dismay an attack on his brother and the latter’s co-worker. “A hand-grenade was lobbed in their direction. Both were seriously wounded. My brother recovered but his friend died.” His fears are echoed by Nilofer, a Quetta housewife who is originally from Lahore. “Where do we go?” she asks. “The only home that we know is Quetta.”

The prevalent view among many settlers is that they contribute to city life, working as policemen, day labourers, drivers etc. They blame the government for their current predicament as does Abdullah, the taxi driver, who says that life for him has become a nightmare ever since the army operation against Baloch insurgents began in 2005.

“We the poor pay the price for the wrong decisions taken in the corridors of power,” he says bitterly. “Every Baloch child views us (the settler community) with suspicion, sometimes even as the enemy.”

No doubt many of the grievances that have arisen on account of the army operation in Balochistan are genuine. But many ethnic Baloch are believed to have exploited this period of turmoil to settle personal scores.

“Threatening notices have been thrown into the homes of many well-to-do settlers, warning them of dire consequences if they do not vacate the premises”, discloses Nilofer. “Some have been kidnapped for ransom too.”

Abdullah agrees, citing the abduction of a man belonging to a Pakhtun tribe as an example.

Although the Punjabi settlers in Quetta and elsewhere in the province bear the brunt of this anger, life for other non-Baloch has been far from easy. The Pakhtun community has not been spared either, even in areas where it is in a majority in the province.

“Many Pakhtuns own shops in a part of the market where dried fruit is sold,” says Abdullah. “Some months ago, two men on a motorbike lobbed a hand-grenade at one of these shops. Later it was revealed that one of the men was a university professor.” He laments that even the educated class had lost its ability to think rationally.

Although they denounce such aggression, many Baloch leaders assert that it is a part of a cycle that cannot be stopped. They explain that in any conflict where emotions run high the aggrieved find it difficult to think logically.

While agreeing that the unrest in Balochistan is “not the fault of the poor Punjabi living in Quetta and who is not a part of the establishment,” Karachi-based Shahryar Mazari, son of veteran Baloch politician Sherbaz Mazari, says that the violence is the outcome of a growing sense of frustration among the ethnic Baloch.

Former senator Sanaullah Baloch admits that it is a disturbing situation, especially as Balochistan was always known for its hospitality and has been home to various ethnic and religious groups.

His views differ somewhat from those of Aslam, the public servant. He says the main reason behind the targeting of minority groups is that they did not join forces with Baloch nationalists demanding autonomy. In fact they distanced themselves from their struggle, thus creating the impression that they were siding with the enemy — the Pakistan state in this case. “Where there is conflict and crises, innocent victims pay the price,” he says.