Balochistan has been here before. Another surge in violence. Another round of official statements. Another promise to bring development to a province that has long waited its turn. And yet, despite the headlines and the handshakes, the sense of disconnect between the people of Balochistan and the state continues to grow. It is not enough to speak of progress when the lived reality tells a different story. For many in the largest province, “development” arrives in the form of large projects they did not design, enforced with security they did not ask for. Roads are built, ports are expanded, but the people who live alongside them remain locked out of decision-making. Yes, the security challenges are serious. No one denies the threat posed by armed groups who reject the state entirely. But we cannot ignore what has brought us here. Generations of Baloch citizens have grown up feeling like strangers in their own country: spoken about, rarely spoken to. Their concerns demand respect, representation, and the right to shape their own future. Too often, peaceful criticism is met with suspicion. Instead of building trust, the state too frequently resorts to control. This approach may bring temporary calm, but it does not build peace. Real stability can only come when people believe they have a stake in the system; and that they are seen not as a threat, but as equal partners in the federation. There is still time to change course. Dialogue cannot be seasonal or symbolic. It must be sincere, inclusive, and consistent. The voices of students, workers, teachers, and tribal elders must be brought into the conversation, not just to tick a box, but to set a direction. Balochistan does not need sympathy. It needs honesty. It needs a government that listens as much as it legislates. It needs policies that are shaped by the people they affect. For far too long, the province has been asked to wait: for progress, for justice, for belonging. *