Life in Quetta slows down as a signal bar becomes a lifeline
Life is rapidly recalibrating in Quetta as a series of security measures including a suspension of mobile internet, ban on large gatherings under Section 144 and tougher movement restrictions, leave classrooms empty, businesses offline and residents anxious about even routine tasks. What began as a precautionary response to security concerns has rippled through every layer of daily life, slowing the city’s rhythm and cutting off vital connections. From students struggling to freelancers missing deadlines and families unable to reach loved ones, the city now finds itself caught between heightened vigilance and an uneasy stillness.
Who pays when the internet goes dark?
For many in Quetta, the answer is: everyone. Mobile data outages and patchy network coverage have made digital work nearly impossible for freelancers, small businesses and NGOs that rely on instant communication. “We’ve practically been confined to Quetta city,” said Saud Khan, who runs field programmes for an NGO in the province. “Our fieldwork outside the city has stopped completely. Even within Quetta, we have to rely on home Wi-Fi because mobile data doesn’t work. The moment you step out, you lose internet access and even calls get dropped constantly.”
Read: Mobile data services suspended in Balochistan
Khan said the restrictions have “made social mobilisation and coordination nearly impossible,” adding that their outreach efforts in smaller districts have been suspended. His words point to a broader reality that operations that once depended on mobile connectivity now require a wired lifeline, deepening disadvantage for those who don't have it.
Freelancers and creative professionals are watching contracts and reputations slip away. A freelance digital designer in Quetta told this reporter that client communications and file transfers have become sporadic, and international deadlines are being missed because “the internet can just vanish for days here and even when we have the access it is really unreliable.” With clients abroad unsympathetic to local outages, delays translate directly into lost income and credibility.
Can you run businesses in this day and age without card machines?
No. At least, not reliably. With digital payment systems reliant on internet connections, many eateries and retail outlets have reverted to cash-only sales. A shopkeeper on Jinnah Road described the sudden frustration: “You can’t pay by card because the POS machines need connectivity. Customers get frustrated, and sales are dropping.” For an economy where cards and mobile wallets are increasingly routine, outages force awkward, sometimes risky, workarounds.
Read more: Balochistan imposes three-day ban on all public transport
Transport and logistics services are facing similar issues. Delays on the N-70 Loralai section, where traffic has been temporarily halted, have slowed the movement of goods across the province. Business owners say delivery schedules are now unpredictable, increasing fuel costs and reducing daily earnings.
Education and Social life disrupted
Private schools in the city suspended classes as a precaution, and students who depended on mobile data for online submissions or messaging have been left stranded. The disruption is especially acute for pupils in poorer or rural households who do not have home broadband to fall back on.
Social life, too, has gone quiet. Residents report avoiding public spaces after sunset during the heavy security presence and uncertainty. “People are not going out at night,” said a resident of Jinnah Town. “There’s this constant unease, you don’t know what’s going on because even social media is silent.” The result is not just inconvenience but a creeping sense of isolation in neighbourhoods that rely on communal life.
Temporary fix with a lasting damage?
Authorities defend the measures as necessary precautions in the face of intelligence warnings. But civil-society actors, business owners and education officials warn that repeated shutdowns and movement curbs carry compounding costs: lost wages, interrupted schooling and frayed community ties. For organisations doing outreach work, like NGOs, the immediate inability to mobilise is only the start. Rebuilding trust and momentum after prolonged pauses is a long, uncertain road.
Quetta’s current quiet is therefore twofold: the visible silence of earlier-closing shops and empty school gates, and the digital silence that leaves people unable to call, pay, apply for jobs or turn in assignments. In a city where a signal bar is now a lifeline, the return of reliable connectivity will mean more than restored convenience, it will signal the resumption of normal life.