Pakistan’s Exploitation of Balochistan’s Resources Is Coming to an End
By Mir Yar Baloch | 22 May 2026
It was a cold evening, and the streets were still wet from a recent drizzle. People moved about their daily routines when suddenly a young boy, barely twelve or thirteen years old, drew everyone’s attention.
He wore a remarkably elegant overcoat. His shoes were polished, his hair carefully combed, and in his hand he carried an old book. To anyone watching, he appeared to belong to a wealthy and respectable family.
People in the neighborhood often admired him.
“Look at that child,” they would say. “How fortunate he must be. Just look at the fine clothes he wears.”
Some children envied him, while others respected him from a distance. Yet no one ever tried to look beyond the overcoat to discover the truth hidden underneath.
Every day, regardless of rain or cold, the boy wore the same coat to school. It was more than clothing to him — it was his shield, his dignity, and the final barrier protecting his poverty from public view.
One day, while crossing the road, the boy was struck by a speeding car.
People rushed toward him in panic. As two men lifted him to place him inside a vehicle, one side of the overcoat slipped open.
Suddenly, silence filled the street.
Beneath the expensive-looking coat were old, patched clothes. His shirt was torn, the sleeves of his sweater were frayed, and his trousers had been stitched repeatedly to keep them wearable.
One man’s eyes filled with tears.
“This child was never rich,” he whispered. “He was hiding his poverty.”
Even while drifting in and out of consciousness on the way to the hospital, the boy kept trying to pull the overcoat back across his chest, terrified that people would finally see the reality he had spent years concealing.
Later, doctors revealed that the boy’s father had died years earlier. His mother worked in other people’s homes to pay for his education. The overcoat itself had been donated by a kind stranger. The boy wore it every day because he did not want the world to pity him.
The following day, when the neighborhood learned the truth, many felt ashamed.
They realized how easily people judge others by outward appearances, while hidden behind polished images are struggles no one can see.
From that day onward, one sentence became famous throughout the neighborhood:
“Never judge a life by its outward shine — sometimes the finest coats hide the deepest wounds.”
According to the author, the boy in this story symbolizes Pakistan.
For decades, Pakistan has projected itself internationally as a powerful, resource-rich, and strategically influential state. Yet the author argues that much of this image has depended heavily on the natural wealth and geography of Balochistan.
In this metaphor, the overcoat represents Balochistan — not a gift to Pakistan, but a territory allegedly seized and controlled through force.
The mountains of Balochistan, its reserves of gold, copper, natural gas, oil, coal, coastline, Gwadar Port, and access to the Arabian Sea have long contributed to Pakistan’s geopolitical and economic importance. The author contends that these resources created the appearance of prosperity and strength that the world associated with Pakistan.
For years, the international community accepted Pakistan’s narrative without seriously questioning the ownership of these resources or the aspirations of the Baloch people. According to the writer, this allowed Pakistan to maintain an image of regional importance while deeper structural weaknesses remained hidden.
However, the article claims that this dynamic is now beginning to change.
As the voices of Baloch activists and nationalist leaders grow louder on the international stage, more observers are beginning to ask whether the resources and strategic assets of Balochistan should be discussed directly with Baloch representatives rather than solely through Pakistan.
The author argues that without Balochistan’s resources and coastline, Pakistan would struggle with severe economic hardship, unemployment, social instability, and political crisis. In this analogy, the “patched clothes” beneath the overcoat symbolize the underlying vulnerabilities concealed behind outward displays of national strength.
The piece further suggests that both global powers and regional actors are increasingly recognizing the limits of Pakistan’s ability to maintain control over Balochistan through military force alone.
According to the article, Baloch nationalist groups are intensifying efforts to assert control over their land, resources, and maritime access, while diplomatic outreach by Baloch representatives is expanding internationally.
The writer concludes that the world may eventually choose to engage more directly with Baloch leadership when discussing the future of the region, rather than relying exclusively on Pakistan’s position.
The article ends with the hashtags:
#PoorPakistanRichBalochistan
#BalochistanIsNotPakistan
